“We’re alone.”I guide her back onto the bed.“I want to hear you.Every sound.Don’t hold back.”
I pick up the pace, hips snapping harder now, and she answers me immediately.“Yes—Mad—yes.”
She reaches between us, fingers finding her clit, and the sight of her touching herself while I’m buried inside her nearly undoes me.Her moans turn ragged, her body tightening around me until she comes with a sharp cry, clenching hard enough to make stars burst behind my eyes.
Before I can follow her over the edge, she pushes at my chest, breathless and smiling.“I want to ride you.”
The image that comes to mind causes my cock to swell in agreement.And without another word, she straddles me, palms flat on my chest.
Grace leans down to kiss me, breasts crushing my skin, her mouth sweet and sure like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.She sets the rhythm, hips rolling, taking me deep.My fingers grip her waist, fingers owning her flesh, and I growl her name as she bounces above me—confident, unhurried, completely in control.
“You’re fucking glorious.”I slide one hand up her back, over warm skin, pulling her closer until her movement changes, becomes slower, heavier.
As she feels our connection intensify, a soft sound leaves her, and she leans forward, breath hot against my neck.
“That’s it,” I murmur.“Just like that.”
She answers by shifting again, deeper this time, the pace turning fast, powerful.I meet her halfway, guiding her without taking over, letting her feel exactly how much I want her while keeping us right here.
Her forehead drops to mine, our breaths tangled.The room narrows to heat and motion and the quiet certainty between us.
When I finally take the lead again, I flip us, and my thrusts are languid at first, building instead of rushing.She clings to me, trusting, matching every move, every breath.
The tension builds, coils, stretches thin.I hold her there, right on the edge, both of us breathing hard, bodies pressed close—close enough to feel the moment tip, close enough to choose how far we go next.
I slow us down, just for a beat.Forehead to forehead.Her breath stutters against mine.“Look at me.”
Her gaze flickers to mine, and there’s heat there, yes—but also trust.I brush my thumb against her bottom lip, needing to anchor us both on the edge.“You good?”
“Don’t stop.”
That’s all I need.
I move again, rotating my hips in slow, precise circles.A gratifying groan slips from her puffy pink lips, and I plunge deep inside her.My strokes are now hard and fast, and it isn’t long before the tether of tension between us snaps clean.
Our inevitable fall follows in a rush of pants and shudders, and we cling to each other until our frenzied state passes, leaving us breathless and spent, still pressed together, still here.
We lay tangled together until our breaths even out.Then I’m out of bed to grab a warm washcloth and clean her up.Once back in bed, the room is quiet except for our breathing.She fits against me like she belongs there, warm and peaceful.
“How are you doing?”She’s on her side beside me, sheets under her arms, hair loose across the pillow.
I’m not used to being asked.“Before, I would’ve said been better.Been worse.”I playfully squeeze her hip.“But now, I’m fucking great.”
Her expression softens, thumb tracing a line along my chest, not taking my playful bait.“Tonight was a lot.For everyone.For you.”
“I should be asking you that.All this loss… this grief.”I search her face.“It has to be more than you bargained for.”
Her hand stops, and she draws it back slowly, resting it against the sheet.Her voice drops, barely above a whisper.“I know about loss.”
Something shifts in her eyes.A shadow passes through—something old and carefully contained beneath her humor and sharp intelligence.
“Maddox…” Her voice wavers.“I want to tell you something, and it isn’t something I talk about easily.”
I don’t move, don’t speak.I just stay where I am, close enough she can trust I’m here, ready to listen.
“It’s about my brother… Cary.”The name cracks on the way out.“He left California years ago.He couldn’t stand our parents—their obsession with image, with control.They’re big deal producers, Hollywood royalty.”
I quirk a brow at her choice of words, and she pauses, frowning.“What was that for?”