We atedinner at Graham’s loft — for the record, the salmon was Michelin-caliber — and afterward, since I was too full for gelato, he drove us back to my house. We didn’t bother turning on the lights when we came in, moving directly upstairs to get ready for bed. It had been a long day. I was exhausted both physically and emotionally, especially after two glasses of wine and a delicious meal, not to mention several earth-shattering revelations courtesy of one Graham Seaton Graves.
He was quiet as he followed me up the stairs, then down the dark hallway toward my bedroom. He seemed to be in a contemplative mood, probably thinking about Madame Zelda’s cache of stolen jewelry, sitting in a box somewhere up in the backwoods of Maine, or where he planned to hang his Picasso when he officially moved in. That’s what I figured, anyway — until we stepped into my bedroom.
Snagging me around the waist with both arms, he spun me around. I didn’t even have time to take a breath before his mouth hit mine. His kiss was hot, hungry, all consuming, and I suddenly realized he hadn’t been planning a drive up to retrieve the O'Banions’ property or pondering potential art placements.
Not even close.
Never breaking the kiss, his hands cupped my ass as he lifted me straight off my feet. My legs went around his waist and my arms wrapped around his neck as he walked me toward the bed. Planting a knee in the mattress, Graham flipped me onto it and came down on top of me, the delicious weight of his body setting off a tidal wave of desire in my veins.
I lost his weight and his heat for a moment as he shrugged out of his jacket and whipped off his t-shirt. He wasted no time in yanking off my boots, then peeling the clingy sweater dress up over my head and tossing it to a far corner of the room, leaving me only in a lacey, low-cut demi-bra and matching underwear.
“Fuck,” he muttered, staring down at me in the lingerie. His breathing was uneven as his finger traced lightly over the peak of my right nipple, teasing it through the lace. “You particularly attached to this underwear, gorgeous?”
I loved when he called me gorgeous. I also, as it so happened, loved this underwear. It was from La Perla. It had cost a small fortune. It made my breasts and booty look fantastic. Hot as it would be for him to physically rip it off my body…
“Um,” I breathed, sucking in a gasp as his fingers tugged sharply at my nipple. “Yes?”
“I’ll buy you a new set,” he muttered.
I didn’t have time to protest before his body came back down on top of me and his mouth claimed mine again. Suddenly, I didn’t care if he ripped my underwear. I wasn’t even thinking about underwear. All my thoughts were caught up in Graham. His weight, his heat, his touch. He was like a drug, an addictive substance I could never get enough of, no matter how many hits I took, no matter how many fixes I got.
I reached for his chest, desperate to feel his warm, smooth skin beneath my fingers, but abruptly found my arms jerked up over my head, trapped in the confines of one of his large fists. I sucked in a breath, too surprised to fight against his grip as his weight pressed into me again, and too turned on to care as his lips landed on my neck. His mouth moved down the column of my throat, planting kisses against my skin, skimming a path of fire across my collarbone, licking lightly between the valley of my breasts.
He paused, lips lifting from my skin, and I made a small sound of protest, tilting my head to look down at him.
“Why did you stop?”
I caught a flash of white teeth in the dark as he grinned wolfishly in answer, then clamped down on my nipple through the lace. Gasping, I arched violently off the bed, pulling against his grip, which was still pinning my arms above my head. I wanted suddenly to touch him. To thread my fingers through his thick, dark hair and hold him close while his mouth did unspeakable things to my body.
Reading my mind, his hold finally disappeared. But before I could wind my arms around him, he’d slid out of reach, moving down to the end of the mattress. His fingers hooked in the waistband of my panties and, with one impatient tug, he yanked them down my legs and chucked them clear across the room, to join my dress. I gasped as a large hand circled each one of my ankles, yanking them apart. Baring me to him — completely.
“Christ, you’re beautiful,” Graham muttered, his burning gaze aimed directly between my legs. “I can’t fucking wait to taste you. I’ll never get enough.”
I didn’t even have time to catch my breath before my legs were jerked up over his shoulders, his head came down, and his mouth hit the target.
Hellfire.
Graham was good at everything, but he was especially good at this. I bit my lip to keep from screaming as he began to fuck me with his mouth. One of his hands spanned my ass, anchoring me firmly against his face, but the other found its way between my legs to join his mouth as he worked me over. He expertly thumbed my clit as his tongue speared deep inside me, gradually increasing his speed until I was bowing and squirming on the bed, lost in a sea of sensation. I felt the orgasm building, an unstoppable force that stole my breath and turned my bones to water.
“Hold still,” Graham muttered, pulling back to bite my thigh, his teeth a sharp warning. “Or you don’t get to finish.”
“Please,” I cried.
“Are you going to hold still like a good girl?”
“Y-yes.”
“Say it.”
“I’ll be a good girl.”
“Whose good girl?”
“Yours.”
“Damn straight.” He grinned. His lips were shining in the darkness, still wet. “Mygood girl.”
His mouth dropped back between my legs, teeth scraping lightly over my hypersensitive center. That was all it took. I came,hard, the orgasm exploding through me, overriding all my senses. I think I actually may have blacked out for a moment, because by the time sanity returned, Graham was lying beside me, staring at my face in the dark. He wore a distinctly smug expression.