Her tits pressed against the cool granite of the counter, hardened nipples rubbing against the smooth surface as he held her down with a big hand in the center of her back.
“That’s what you get for teasing me with chocolate,” he grated, kicking her bare feet apart. She bit her lip as he shoved two fingers into her pussy from behind, pumping lazily as his thumb grazed her hypersensitive clit. “God, you feel fucking amazing. I love fucking you.”
His hand disappeared and a packet rustled, then his fingers were replaced by something thick and hot at the entrance to her pussy. She moaned as he pushed in, the broad head of his cock breaching her body. No matter how many times they did it, every time he took her she caught her breath, unsure if he was even going to fit. Normally he was gentle, waiting patiently for her to adjust. But not this time. Instead he grunted and pulled back before pushing again, working his way into her in short, sharp movements until he was seated to the hilt.
She whimpered, her cunt throbbing around the thick intrusion of his cock. It burned, the feeling of being full almost painful.
“That’s it, baby, you got all of me.” He kissed her shoulder, reaching around to slide clever fingers against her clit. She moaned and arched back against him, the change in angle making them both shudder as pleasure cascaded between them.
“That’s it, shove your arse back,” he urged, fingers playing over her clit and he started to thrust, taking her with short, powerful strokes. “God, you’ve got a great arse. I love fucking you from behind.”
She couldn’t answer, her mind blown as he bent her over the counter and fucked her in the way she’d been dreaming of for weeks. Not gentle. Hard and visceral. Raw and powerful. Man and woman coming together in their most basic form. She panted, pressed against the granite as she thrust back against him, meeting him stroke for stroke.
All too soon her body trembled. Her release rose up, engulfing her in ecstasy as she screamed his name, pleasure rolling through her in an unstoppable wave of lust, need…and love.
* * *
This was shit.
The simple thought rolled around and around in Gray’s head as they sat in the darkness and listened to the warbling coming from the stage. It wasn’t that he was against singing as such, but this just wasn’t his cup of tea. He was more a rock type of guy than whatever they called this.
The theater.
A wry grin twisted his lips. Who would have thought it? Him. Leighton Gray, the bad boy of Standford Hill, at the theater. Not only that, at the theater with Damon Cross’s pretty sister. His gaze slid to the woman at his side and he reached out to take her hand, lacing his fingers through hers carefully. She was so tiny and delicate; he worried about hurting her.
Except in bed. He’d scared at first that he was too big for her, that he was hurting her, so he’d been careful, always holding back. But after their encounter in the kitchen a few days ago, when she’d pushed him past the limits of his control, he’d realized that she could take him. More than take him, that she actually liked it hard and fast.
Need hit him, his cock surging to life, hard and heavy against the inside of his pants in a heartbeat. He wanted her again. He always wanted her; even when they’d just done and she was exhausted he could go again, bury himself in her silken warmth and just stay there forever. If he had his way, they’d spend all their time in bed.
The sex between them was amazing, absolutely mind-blowing. Good in bed, pretty, intelligent, all the players on the team adored her…even if that little twat Bryant kept trying to chat her up. Even then, though, she dealt with the situation as capably as she did everything else. Turning his flirty comments back with a gentle humor that had everyone laughing with, but not at, him.
Lifting her hand, he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, smiling as she flicked him a glance, their gazes meeting and holding. Encouraged by the look in her eyes, he leaned forward and claimed her lips. A soft kiss that lingered. He tried not to think about the private box they were in, or the fact she was wearing a flowing skirt.
It would be so easy to gather her into his lap. No one would see if he pushed the fabric up, releasing his cock so she could sit on it, impaling that pretty little pussy on his aching length as she rode him, taking them both to heaven and back in the darkness.
Her breathing caught in the back of her throat, making that little sound he found so damn sexy. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t, that he’d let her watch the show without trying to distract her, but her soft lips were too much of a temptation. Nibbling across the full expanse of her lower lip, he persuaded her to open her mouth for him. As soon as she did, he deepened the kiss, stroking his tongue along hers in slow, wet thrusts that mimicked what he wanted to do to her with his body.
She made that sexy little sound again, turning and wriggling closer. For a moment it was all Gray could do not to grab her and pull her into his lap, the thought of taking her here, with everyone in the boxes around them being none the wiser, threatened to have him shooting his load right then and there in his pants.
She pulled away with a gasp, her hand tangling in his loose hair. He’d stopped tying it back when she’d said how much she liked it down around his shoulders.
“Leigh, I know you got the tickets for tonight, and it’s lovely—”
She stopped, biting her lip as she looked up at him. He lifted her hand to his lips again, pressing a kiss to the back of her knuckles and silently urging her on.
“But… Could we go? Home. To bed?” She wriggled closer and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. Hidden in his pants and in the darkness, his cock jerked savagely. “Please?”
“Hell, yeah. C’mon.”
Heat added wings to Gray’s heels as they left the theater, leaving behind the warbling strains of whatever the hell song the performers were mangling, and spilling out into the warm night air outside. Happily, he wrapped an arm around Frankie’s waist as they trotted down the steps and turned toward where he’d parked his car.
“You’re not too upset, are you?” she asked as she stroked the small of his back. An idle touch that only fueled the fire rampaging through his veins.
“Not at all. Why?”
She grinned up at him, an impish expression that made him want to stop, pin her against the brick facade of the theatre, and kiss the living daylights out of her.
“The theater’s nice, but I was kind of hoping you’d take me to see
Ransom
instead
,
” she said, naming the latest action blockbuster.
Time stretched out and in the eternity between one moment and the next, Gray knew this was it. He was in love. Completely, irrevocably, undeniably head over heels for Frankie Cross. The fears he’d felt, that he wasn’t good enough for her, not bright enough, not classy enough, were still there. After all, he was the kid from the roughest estate in town whereas she’d grown up in a big house in the most expensive area.
Determination filled him. None of that mattered. He would make sure he was good enough, study hard for a career after he stopped playing, something that meant he could provide for her. Marry her.
That was it. He would marry her.
He gave in to his impulse, stopping to haul her into his arms right there in the middle of the pavement and kissing her until she was breathless.
“Oh my,” she whispered as he eased her back down to her feet. The fact she was so much smaller, that he could pick her up and hold her in his arms never failed to make him feel totally male. Like when he had her stretched under him, naked and begging for his cock. “What was that in aid of?”
“Nothing. Just because.” He grinned. He wouldn’t tell her he loved her yet. Not until he was down on one knee, a ring in his hand. Tomorrow. He could get a ring tomorrow and ask her after he’d taken her to see
Ransom
as she’d asked.
* * *
He was going to marry Frankie Cross.
The enormity of the thought filled him to bursting as they reached the car and buckled in. A smile crept over his face as warmth and love for the woman sitting next to him spread out to fill every cell in his body. He stole a sideways glance at her, his gaze caressing her profile as she turned to look at the cars going past. Already he could imagine her in a wedding dress and veil. Beautiful.
“Straight home?” he asked as he pulled out into the traffic, sliding easily into a gap in the flow. “Or did you want to stop somewhere and pick up something to eat first?”
He knew what her answer would be, but it was part of their ritual. As he waited, his agile mind turned over and over, working out how he was going to organize things so she wouldn’t suspect until he actually popped the question. And he had just the jeweler in mind. A new designer who made unique and exquisite pieces. Damon had ordered a necklace from them last year for Sophie. Should be just the ticket. He knew her taste in jewelry so picking something she’d like shouldn’t be a problem… Something classy, but intricate.
Getting the right size was more of a problem. He knew some men bought a larger size for the proposal, then had the ring resized, but he didn’t want to do that. When he put that ring on Frankie’s finger, he intended for it to stay there. At least until she removed it for their wedding day, ready for a gold band.
“No, no. I’m good, thank you.”
She put her bag on the floor and the light from the streetlamps reflected off the rings on her right hand. She wore silver stacker rings that were all the rage at the moment. Had several sets of them for different fingers. He hid his smile as she provided the answer to his dilemma. She slept like the dead, so all he had to do was find a ring that fit and take that along to the jewelers. Piece of cake.
“For food, anyway.”
The suggestive tone in her voice got his attention straight away, even as he felt her small hand creep over his thigh and brush against his groin. His cock, ever ready and willing for a bit of action, was solid within a heartbeat, the raging hard-on pressing against his pants as she giggled.
“My, my. Is that a gun in your pocket, Mr. Gray, or are you just pleased to see me?” She cupped him, delicate fingers caressing him through the fabric. He swore as he forced himself to concentrate on the road ahead as more blood surged to join the party. He was so screwed if she undid his zipper.
“Oh, yes. You’re
very
pleased to see me,” she murmured, starting a slow stroke designed to steal every brain cell he had.
“You have no idea, sweetheart.”
Hands tight on the wheel, he couldn’t look at her, couldn’t risk looking down into his lap either. The sight of her little hands moving over him would tip him over the edge, and there was no way he was coming in his pants like some kid with his first woman. The fact that he’d thought of her when he’d
had
his first woman all those years ago was completely coincidental. No, he’d hold on, even if it killed him.
“Shift over a little bit, babe,” he murmured as the lights ahead changed. Slickly he moved down the gears, the powerful car responsive to his every movement. Almost as responsive as the woman with her hand in his lap. Traffic roared, crossing the intersection ahead of them as he moved his foot onto the brake, pressed down to slow for the red light.
There was nothing there.
“Fuck!”
Shoving her hand from his lap, Gray pumped the brakes. Nothing. The junction loomed large as he dropped the car into a lower gear, trying to use the engine to stop them. Gears crunched, the engine whining dangerously as Frankie gasped.
“What’s happening?”
“No brakes, can’t stop,” was all he managed as they sped toward the junction.
Too fast. Too much traffic.
Fear punched a hole in his gut, reaching in and grabbing hold of his spine in icy fingers. They had to stop. The junction ahead was the main ring road intersection. They’d never make it through the traffic without causing a fatal pileup. With them at the bottom.
Slamming his hazard lights on, Gray did the only thing he could. He needed to lose speed. Fast. With no wall and no other way of stopping he pulled the hand brake and clipped the curb, trying to run off the speed of the car along the high edge of the concrete.
Shitshitshit…
the single word sped through his head on a high-speed loop as sparks flew from the passenger side of the vehicle. The car screamed, the concrete gouging fatal wounds. It would be totaled, but he didn’t care. As long as she walked away unhurt, he’d trash every car in the city.
Frankie screamed as the junction loomed ahead. Not enough room. They weren’t going to make it. With nothing left to try, he sent a quick prayer upward and yanked the hand brake on full.
The world spun in a kaleidoscope of light and sound. Screams mingled with the sound of screeching brakes as he was blinded by headlights. A sharp
thump
rang through the car, metal screeching as they flipped. Once, twice, three times. His stomach hit his throat as something slammed into his chest like a sledgehammer, darkness following in its wake.
* * *
He swam up through pain, groaning as lights stabbed into his eyes, driving into his brain like red-hot pokers. The sound of traffic and squealing brakes deafened him, a woman’s scream somewhere in the background dragging him back to consciousness ruthlessly.
Gasping for breath, he opened his eyes. The world was upside down, the shattered windscreen below him, tarmac stained with black underneath it. Something dripped, thick and wet as the engine made an ominous
click-click-click.
Fuck. It was still running. He reached out to turn it off, the small movement jarring his leg and side. Agony danced over his body wearing studs made of fire, stealing his breath and bringing tears to his eyes. Something was wrong, very wrong, with his leg.
Clamping his teeth together so hard he thought they’d break off, he breathed through it. Football, he thought as a silly picture from the Internet the lads had been passing around the changing rooms filled his head, ninety minutes of players pretending to be injured. Rugby, eighty minutes of every player avoiding the eye of the ref and pretending not to be. Shoving the pain away, he ignored it. Pretend the ref was here. Not injured if he ignored it.