Moments later, his hot, hard dick is pressed against me. Fisting his cock, he slides the velvety tip up and down my slit before shoving himself inside me with a hard thrust. I break our kiss to cry out, and it’s mingled with Gray’s groan. Once he’s balls deep, he curls one of his arms under my back and grips my shoulder from the opposite side, effectively securing me against him.
In the next moment, he pulls out of me slowly only to slam forward again. His grip on my shoulder is the only thing that keeps me in place. My mouth drops open as my breath flees my lungs in a huff. Realizing the precedent has been set, I lift my head and bury it in Gray’s neck while squeezing my arms around his back, ready to hold on for the ride.
Every strike is as ruthless as it is satisfying. I drag my knees up high on Gray’s side, and it opens me up enough so I can feel him grinding against my clit with every slap of his skin against mine. His intensity is almost punishing as his body finds a home in mine. Over and over, he crashes into me until I’m nearly dizzy with the need to either come again or scream, but my body needs another release of some kind.
“Not yet,” Gray growls breathlessly, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. I let my eyes close as a protest slips from my lips. He’s crazy if he thinks I’m going to hold off. I intentionally squeeze his cock with my inner muscles, and his rhythm falters—I know I have him. With a dark smile on my lips, I do it again as soon as he’s buried deep inside me, but then I keep milking him. Instead of pulling out, he grinds against me. The pressure against my clit and the feeling of him moving inside me is enough to send me over the edge. I’m no longer controlling the spasms in my pussy, my orgasm takes over and does it all for me.
“Fucking hell,” Gray curses, but it comes out more like a praise. I know my orgasm pushed him into his own, and I like knowing it. Grayson likes control, but I love making him lose it.
My arms fall off his back and onto the counter. The cool stone is welcome now that my skin is overheated. Gray lifts his chest off mine and stares down at me with a glare that holds no reproach. “You did that on purpose,” he accuses. My only answer is a grin.
* * *
The chimeabove the door to Jimmy’s Diner tinkles a welcoming tune as Felix pulls the door open for us to enter. I glance around quickly and note there are fewer women making up the crowd, but they still make up the bulk of the diners.
Gray pulls me the rest of the way in by tugging on my hand. I think back to the last time we came here. He wouldn’t even really speak to me then. What a difference a few weeks make.
The counter seats are all taken, unlike last time. Remy stops short when he notices and lets out a disgruntled sound. “Looks like you’re old news, Broussard,” I tease.
Without missing a beat, Felix walks over to a table in the middle of the room. Gray pulls up short when he realizes where Felix is headed. He lifts his chin and looks around, searching for a booth, I’m sure. I have no idea how they convinced him to sit at the counter bar, but it looks like he wants to draw a line at sitting at the tables.
“Want to wait?” I offer. Gray looks down at me with a curious expression. “For a booth,” I clarify.
“No, it’s fine.” He pulls out a chair for me and takes the one next to it. Remy and Felix sit across from us.
I lean over, so my head is nearly on his shoulder, and ask him softly, “Why do you prefer booths?”
Gray meets my eyes, and I see something flash across his features that makes me want to take the question back. “My grandfather…” He looks out over the table, taking his eyes from mine. “I avoided him most of the time, but he was always at dinner.” I watch as Gray rolls his big shoulders and neck.
He doesn’t need to say any more. I know his grandpa was a prick. I saw the bruises to prove it. I scoot my chair a little closer and keep my head on his shoulder. It’s been a long time since Gray had to worry about his grandfatherdisciplininghim. That shit stopped when Gray stood up to him when he was about thirteen, but the fact that he still prefers booths proves his treatment had lingering effects.
A slightly flustered waitress who looks fresh out of high school makes her way over to our table with a notepad in her hand. When she notices who’s at the table, she looks over at the bar as if she’s wondering what we are doing here instead of there.
“Hey.” She focuses her attention on her hand that’s now poised over the notepad, her pen at the ready to jot things down. “Will this all be on one bill?”
“Yeah,” Remy answers quickly, then adds, “Double up the Greek platter for me, and I’ll take an orange juice and water.”
She scribbles on the pad, then briefly looks up, letting us know she’s ready for more orders. “Turkey club for me with fried pita and garlic sauce,” Felix tells her. Nobody has even looked at the menu, but I don’t need to either.
I’m next in line, so I say, “Bacon cheeseburger, extra pickles, and fries, with mayo and ketchup on the side.”
Gray is the last to order. “Grilled chicken sandwich, no tomato, and vegetables for the side.”
“Drinks for anyone else?” She glances at everyone but Remy.
“Water,” I pipe up. Gray orders coffee, and Felix opts for water also. Once she’s gone, I lean over the table and quietly ask, “Why the hell do you guys come to a greasy diner if you’re going to order the healthiest shit off the menu?” The last time we came in, everyone had burgers.
“It’s good,” Remy defends with a shrug. “Plus, we like Jimmy.” He gives a chin jerk to someone behind me, and I peer over my shoulder to see the round owner with a towel over his shoulder behind the bar counter. I wave and smile, which makes Jimmy’s eyes crinkle as he returns the gesture.
Halfway through my burger, Gray stiffens and slowly turns his head to look behind us. I follow suit and notice an older man. He’s kind of wiry, but not too thin for someone his age. His eyes are on me, even with Grayson staring him down.
“Can I help you?” I ask after wiping my mouth with a napkin.
“Frankie Bishop, right?” His eyes are a deep brown, so dark they are nearly black, standing out even against his sun aged skin. There’s an aura of magic around him that feels as if he’s either just stirred a spell or he leaks magic, which isn’t all that uncommon, especially if you’re above a seven. What is a little uncommon is the fact that I can feel him through my shields without any effort at all. It makes me think he might even be an eight or higher.
“Yes.” I turn a little more so I’m facing him better.
“I’m looking for your dad. I stopped by the house, then the station, but Scotty said he’s away.” The end of his statement comes out more like a question. It is a bit unusual for Dad to be away. As far as I know, the only time he left Hill Crest was when he would come to visit me, and that was typically day trips when he had time off.
