189 Grace: Oh My Goddess
189 Grace: Oh My Goddess
I’m a whole puddle of Grace under his stare.
Come to think of it, I’ve met a lot of personal quotas tonight. From zombie dreams to pseudo–fucking in the bathroom.
Nuh–uh.
His hands are large, looking strong at a glance, with just the right amount of veins and wow, his fingers are long.
I’m over here drooling and he’s not even noticing.
Cloth barrier or not, there was still some energy transferring. And it definitely got more intense toward the end. And… I’d told myself I was going to focus on it and
didn’t.
I think.
And how the washcloth will actually need to be used for its proper purpose.
Nope. Abort. Cannot go further. Bad idea.
“We can’t,” I say, though I don’t sound particularly firm about it. Even to my own ears, it’s more coquettish than anything, and I’m half–hoping he pushes my boundaries.
“I can-”
But the way my name rolls off his tongue sends a spark straight down to my clit and I squeeze my thighs together, pretending we’re in public surrounded by like, a hundred people.
m without
My eyes dip a little lower–an involuntary glance, I swear–at the hard length of him still readily visible against his pants. My lips feel suddenly dry, and I wet thinking.
Is it a full moon? It kind of feels like it should be a full moon.
I stiffen, guilt flashing through me. Hadn’t even tried. Wanted to, but my brain kind of went off onto a whole different road and forgot.
189 Grace: Oh My Goddess
My fingers feel suddenly itchy as I remember how I’d brought him to climax before. Granted, I’d… choked it to near–death, but hey, orgasms are called little death in French, right? So maybe my technique wasn’t too terrible.
Even Horny Grace wouldn’t climb him like a fucking tree with a hundred people watching.
Obediently lowering my leg and straightening so I’m a little less wanton, I crack my eyes open and peer over my shoulder.
Not even a little bit.
His chuckle brushes against my ear, warm and knowing. “Did you get more control today?”
Nope.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly turn in the cage of his arms. It’s not easy in this tiny space to avoid contact, and my bare skin slides against the counter’s edge, which feels really warm after leaning against it for so long. I let my gaze land somewhere in the region of his chin and throat, not quite brave enough to look him in the eyes as my cheeks flame wildly.
His voice.
Horny Grace has already gotten what she wanted–well, to an extent–and has fled in the face of rational, calm, normal, oh–my–Goddess–what–did–we–do Grace.
“Does it… hurt?”
And how I’m really, really hoping Andrew’s dead fucking asleep, because if he isn’t, he fucking knows what happened in here and I. Am. Mortified.
Understatement of the century. Brilliant line choices, Grace. You should write a fucking screenplay.
Without thinking too much about what I’m doing, my hand reaches out, drifting toward the very thing keeping about ninety percent of my attention.
I was rather… preoccupied.
Caine widens his stance a little and reaches down to adjust himself. I watch intently, unable to tear my eyes away from the movement of his hand.
189 Grace: Oh My Goddess
But then he’s there, looming behind me again, both hands pressing against the counter on either side of me. His body cages mine without actually touching it, and the heat of him radiates against my back, and his gaze meets mine in the mirror and this is way
too hot.
He’s kneeling behind me, looking focused and calm as he wipes what I’m pretending is water, okay, water, off my legs.
The sound of my harsh breathing is all I can hear after I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to think about how I desperately need to change my underwear.
Caine’s warmth disappears from my back, and the wicked washcloth suddenly starts wiping down my thighs with a more clinical touch.
My mouth goes dry again with thoughts I told myself not to have.
And then he stands, and my eyes are now wide, wide open as they stare directly at his
crotch.
Then the floor.
Not taking this invitation.
I nod without thinking, then freeze as my brain catches up with what I just agreed to. I dare a glance at his face, and he looks… amused. His lips curve upward, eyes soft, but there’s still a dark intensity behind them.
“Would
you do something for me if it did?”
“I was a little… distracted,” I admit.
Maybe.
“Nothing” I mumble after being quiet way too long, staring fixedly at the sink drain and not the giant batch of temptation pinning me against the counter with sheer presence
alone.
Caine gives a light cough and I guiltily flick my gaze away, heat crawling up my neck so fast I might combust. I’m too mortified to turn around and face him properly.
My body doesn’t care what his intentions are, because it gets all sparky and ready for round two, but I shove down all those embarrassing thought processes before they get started, realizing I’m a little… dizzy.
<
189 Grace: Oh My Goddess
“What were you looking at, Grace?” he asks, his voice a low, sexy, inviting rumble of sin and wanton pleasure.
Caine laughs softly. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
He lets out a little hum of acknowledgement, not sounding particularly surprised or
concerned.
Clearing my throat, I look away, trying to find something–anything–else to focus on in this tiny bathroom. But my eyes slowly, traitorously, slide back to where he’s cupping himself casually.
Rude.
I’d even agree to murdering a man if he asks me like that.
No. I’m done. Scratch that, I need capitals: I’m DONE. I got what I needed. I do not need to react this way. This bathroom is approximately seventy square feet (give or take fifty since math and geometry are not my strong suits) of terrible decision–making, and I’ve already made my quota for the night.
I shake my head, unable to lie.
Horny Grace got what she wanted. She did. And she definitely shouldn’t throw a fit over it, because Caine’s little friend–scratch that, his very large, very obvious friend- did not get the same treatment. 1
And he doesn’t look fine.
But before I can get the offer out, the RV shifts a little with someone’s movement and my hand reverses course, shoving at his chest in blind panic. “You need to go.”
Caine taps against my knee, and each one sends a flush of arcana his way, not that he seems aware of it at all.
But he doesn’t, damn him.
