Jailbait (8 page)

Hearing him try to compliment the kitchen remodel isn’t charming. Not at all. And neither is he for that matter.
 

“Thanks.” I fill two glasses with wine and lean against the counter opposite Grayson. “Talk.”
 

“I can do that. What do you want me to talk about?”
 

I take a sip of wine. “Don’t get cute with me. You know exactly what.”
 

He taps the base of his wine glass with his fingers but doesn’t pick it up. I have no idea if Grayson’s a wine drinker or not. I’m going with not.
 

“Where do you want me to start?” His voice is hollow, and his gaze is heavy with longing, but not just sexually. He’s looking at me as if he’s desperate for forgiveness.

“The beginning would be nice,” I reply just as quietly.
 

“The beginning,” he repeats and lets out a breath. “Let’s just start with the whole stalking thing.”

“Stalking?” I take another sip. “Well then, yes, let’s start there. What the hell are you doing?”

“Making sure you’re safe.”
 

I blink, take one more drink—because I need it—then take in a breath to reply. “I know some of those teen paranormal movies make it seen romantic to stalk someone out of ‘love’, but it’s creepy. Lurking in the shadows isn’t going to make me want you.”
 

He doesn’t laugh.
Shit
.
 

“I’m sorry, Pepper. Look…if I had it my way, this wouldn’t be the way we’re reunited after all this time.”
 

“And that time,” I say carefully. “Where did you go? What happened?”

He inhales and closes his eyes on the exhale. “That
is
something I can tell you, but I’d rather not. Not just yet. I don’t want to risk the chance to talk.”
 

And now that smile is back, making me feel very warm. I look down at my wine glass and bite the inside of my cheek. There is more to Grayson than sex appeal, which is what enamored me to him back when I was eighteen.
 

“I’ve missed you.” The words roll off my tongue and the confession takes me by surprise. Those three words have been inside me, haunting me, for years. I used to wonder if just admitting to myself that I missed him would finally help me get over him and move on. Maybe refusing to deal with my emotions is why I’m feeling such strong ones right now.

Or maybe what we had was the real deal. Teenagers or not. Love is love, right?
 

“I’ve missed you too.” He pushes the wine away and stands. The next thing I know he’s by my side, arms wrapping around my waist. I bring mine around him, feeling every pound of muscle in his abdomen. So many thoughts run through my head, but the panicking feeling that this is the last time Grayson will be in my arms makes me keep my mouth shut.
 

Well, shut in one sense.
 

I rest my head against his firm chest and listen to his heartbeat. I’m completely encased in his arms, safely tucked against his strong body. He brings his head down and rests it on top of mine. We stay like that for a few minutes, soaking up the unspoken comfort.
 

And just like that, he’s back to being the Grayson that I remember. Able to console me without knowing what’s wrong. His ability to listen to my problems, to hear me out and understand my anxiety is what made him go from some boy I was dating to the boy that I loved and never wanted to live without. He never judged me, never scoffed when I was overcome with panic about fitting in or living up to my father’s standards.
 

He just made me feel better.
 

When he left and never came back, I assumed it was because I wasn’t able to do the same for him. And that’s a guilt I carried with me every day.
 

“Gray…” I start but the words die in my throat. How do I tell him his leaving caused me to feel so much self-doubt without it sounding like I’m blaming him? Because I don’t blame him at all and I’d probably sound absolutely insane for holding onto this for six fucking years.
 

My eyes close, and I heavily exhale. I spin in his arms and pick up my wine. I take a big drink, set down the glass, and press my hands against the granite countertop. Grayson steps close behind me and gathers my hair into his hand. He moves it to the side, and brings his face down, warm breath on my skin.
 

I shiver, despite the heat. He rakes his fingers through my hair and lowers his lips, brushing them against my skin. He balls my hair in his fist and runs his other hand down my side, his touch so gentle it’s teasing. The anticipation is killing me. I begin to turn my head but he pulls my hair, making it impossible to kiss him.
 

“Pepper,” he whispers and his breath on my skin is too much. And he knows it. He fucking knows it and is doing this to me on purpose, making me squirm. He twists my hair in his hand and finally puts his lips to my skin, giving me soft, tender kisses. The gentle touch sends a wave of heat through me, turning me on more than I’ve felt in a long time.
 

He lets go of my hair and brushes his fingertips along my shoulder, kissing me softly. Everything about this is so intimate, like lovers who know each other’s bodies, each other’s wants and needs. Suddenly, anger erupts inside of me and I whirl around, breaking free of Grayson’s hold. My hands land on his shoulders and I give him a hard shove.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demand.

“Uh,” he starts, blue eyes wide. “I thought it was obvious. But if not then I must be doing something wrong.”
 

“You’re not, not at all, which is what’s so messed up about this.” I narrow my eyes, hating him and wanting him at the same time. “You just left. Left me and never came back. Never called, never let me know you were even alive. And now what, you think you can show up, have sex with me, and then things will go back to how they used to be?”

He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I was hoping. That’s not going to work?”
 

“Things can’t just go back to how they used to be, Gray. It’s been too long, and too much has happened that I don’t know about.” I stare at the man before me, overcome by the weirdest feeling of longing for what we once had, while at the same time feeling like I’m finally home.
 

Dammit. Why does he have such a hold on me like this?
 

“I said we’ll talk,” he reminds me.
 

I bite my lip and nod. “Right.”
 

A few seconds pass silently as we both stand there in the dimly lit kitchen, unmoving. “So,” Grayson says. “Are we having sex or not?”
 

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”
 

He steps closer and my heart speeds up with indignation. It sparks the fire and I lunge forward, putting my hands on his chest. I push him against the cupboard and put my lips to his, kissing him as hard as I can, harder than I’ve ever kissed anyone.
 

Grayson kisses me back with the same desperation. His arms wrap around me, picking me up and placing me on the island counter. I hold on, pressing myself against him.

“Pepper,” he growls, taking his lips from mine. He puts them on my neck, nipping and sucking at my skin. I toss my head back and let my hands drop from his shoulders, running down his firm chest, along his abs, and onto the waist of his jeans. I circle the metal button with my thumb and widen my legs, allowing him to move in closer. His cock is already hard, barely confined behind his jeans.
 

He lets out a moan when I pop the button and pull down the zipper. I let my fingers slowly explore the full length of his erection, taking my time when I get to the sensitive tip. Then I let go, putting my hands on his waist. Already, he misses my touch and is craving more. He lowers his hands to my ass and scoots me to the edge of the counter. It’s the perfect height for his cock to rub against me in the exact right place.

Still kissing me, Grayson reaches down and yanks off my riding boots. They fall to the floor with heavy thuds. I grab the hem of his black t-shirt and pull it up. He lifts his arms and helps me take it off. His chest is decorated with scars and tattoos. I could stare at them for hours, studying, memorizing, asking questions.
 

But right now, I can’t even think straight.
 

Grayson urges me back so he can take my breeches off. I lean back on my elbows and lift my ass so he can get the tight pants off. They’re thrown on the floor somewhere near my boots. I yank his jeans down, he takes off my shirt, and in those few seconds we’re apart, I become desperate. He falls forward again, wrapping me in his arms and kissing me like the end of the world is coming.
 

His bare torso feels so good against me. Warm. Strong. Comforting. And holy hell, sexy. He gathers my hair in his fist again as he kisses me, then uses it to pull my head back. He’s busy with my neck, awakening every nerve inside of me. Tingles plague my body, sending little pulses of pleasure to my core. I’m so hot for him.

His hands travel down my body, not stopping until his fingers hover between my legs. Positive he can feel the heat coming off me, he nips at my skin with his teeth, and then moves his mouth back to mine. I ache for him and the desperation grows. He pushes against my most sensitive parts, moving his fingers in a slow circle. I let out a gasp and curl my fingers, nails pressing into his skin.
 

He urges me back further, and I have to let go of him and rest my weight on my elbows. Slowly, he strips me bare, dropping my panties on the ground behind him. He parts my legs and steps in.
 

“Gray,” I pant, feeling too exposed up here on the counter. Light pours down on me, illuminating my body. I feel like I’m on display and self-consciousness hits me. He pulls back and blinks but is unable to keep his eyes from scanning my body. And now he’s looking like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world, like I’m the only thing that matters and if he doesn’t have more, he’ll die.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he growls, lust burning in his eyes.

Any self-consciousness I was feeling before goes out the window. He lunges back down, devouring me with kisses as he unhooks my bra. I roll the straps down my arms, and he lets out a moan at the sight of my breasts. He takes one in his mouth, tongue swirling around my nipple. I inhale sharply and run my hands through his hair.
 

He pushes a bar stool back and perches on the edge. One hand goes on the countertop next to me and the other pushes my legs open. I need him now, and this waiting is killing me.

“Fuck, I’ve missed your pussy,” he groans, moving his head between my legs.
 

“It’s missed you too,” I admit, tension building so fast I might cum right here and now.
 

“Did you think of and touch yourself?”
 

I bite my lip, the confession so intimate. “Yes,” I breathe.
 

He slides his fingers over me. “You’re so fucking wet. Who are you wet for?”

“You.”
 

“Say my name.”
 

“I’m wet for you, Grayson.”
 

“Say it again.”
 

“Grayson.
 

He puts his mouth to me. The moment his tongue touches my tender clit, a loud moan escapes me. Grayson wraps his free hand around me, bringing me closer. I lean back and buck my hips, heart speeding up. He works his tongue, getting me close to the edge then stopping moments before I cum, keeping me on the brink of the orgasm.
 

He turns his head and gently nips at the flesh inside my thighs. Soft, slow, bringing me down only to dive back in and make me completely lose it. I cry out and fall back on the counter, knocking over my wine glass. It spills around me, but I don’t care. The only thing that matters is the red-hot orgasm that’s erupting inside of me.
 

It starts in my core, sending waves of pleasure up and down my body. My muscles tighten, and my skin tingles. My mouth opens as I moan again, heart racing as the orgasm builds, winding so tightly I think I might pass out. Grayson slides a finger inside and I’m a goner, coming so hard my ears ring.
 

Grayson moves away from me slowly, and bends over the counter, planting soft kisses along my abdomen. Pulses of pleasure are still running rampant through me, and I can’t catch my breath. Grayson moves my hair out of my face, and I can’t figure out why it’s wet…not that it matters. Oh right, the wine.
 

Keeping my eyes closed, I reach for Grayson. He takes my hand in his, interlocking our fingers, and rubs the palm of my hand with his thumb. Patiently, he waits for me to come back to the here and now so we can continue. Once the feeling comes back to my legs, I push myself up and wrap my arms around him.

I press my lips to his, tasting myself on him, and take a hold of his cock. The tip is sticking out of the top of his boxers, wet and ready for me. I pump my hand fast then slow, fast then slow, circling my thumb around the tip. I let go to remove his boxers and he moans for more.

My arms go around his shoulders and I widen my legs. He steps in, cock hard against me and my heart skips a beat. For the first time in six years, Grayson King is going to fuck me.

“What do you want?” he demands.
 

“I want you.”
 

“You want me to fuck you.”
 

“Yes. So much.”
 

Grayson kisses me softly, and then pushes his mouth against mine. “Are you ready, Pepper? Are you ready for me to fuck you?”

“God, yes.” I’ve been ready for years.

Our lips collide and his tongue pushes into my mouth at the same time he enters me. I moan as he fills me, gripping onto his broad shoulders for dear life as he thrusts in deep. He brings his hips back, almost sliding that big dick out of me and then pushes in again. Hard. Harder. Over and over until another orgasm rolls through me. My pussy spasms around his cock. My head falls back and I’m floating in sex induced bliss, aware only of how fucking good this all feels.