“I want it to be you.” I echo her words.
No more words are spoken as I slowly push my hips forward. She sucks in a breath but urges me to keep going, so I do. Inch by inch, I move forward.
“Just do it,” she says, panting.
“I’m sorry,” I say as I push all the way in one thrust. White-hot heat courses through me. She’s so damn tight and warm, my cock twitches. “Are you okay?”
She opens her eyes. “I’m okay. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
“Tell me when I can move.”
“You can move.”
“Are you sure?” I hate the thought that this is hurting her when it feels so fucking incredible to me.
I pull almost all the way out and then push back in. I repeat this process a few times. I try to think about anything other than how unbelievable her pussy feels gripping my cock like a vise. I run through baseball stats in my head, but it’s not working. She’s too intoxicating.
“Touch yourself.”
“What?”
“Babe, I’m close. I need you there. I’m on the verge of losing control.”
“Then let go.”
“You come first.”
“I did.” She grins.
“Then do it again. Touch yourself.”
She slides her hand between us, and a throaty moan passes her lips. “Oh,” she pants.
“Tell me what you need.”
“Faster.”
Doing as she asks, I increase my speed, all while still trying to think about baseball stats and not the beautiful woman beneath me.
“Right… there,” she says, lifting her hips to meet me, thrust for thrust.
“Damn,” I mutter as her pussy grips me even tighter.
“Oh. My. God.”
“Open your eyes.” Her lids flutter open. “I want to watch you when you fall over the edge.”
“Griffin!” She shouts my name, and her pussy grips my cock.
I can’t hold on a second longer as I release inside Peyton while she’s gripping me. It’s the best orgasm and most intimate moment of my life. I still as my release pulses inside. Once we’re both drained, I lower myself to her, careful not to crush her, and take her lips with mine.
Her arms surround my neck, and she holds me close. “I love you, Griffin. I love you so much.”
“I love you too.” I pull back and kiss the tip of her nose. “I need to take care of the condom. I’ll be right back.” I hate to leave Peyton, her body, this bed, but I need to handle my business. In the bathroom, I clean up, tossing the condom in the trash, and grab a wet washcloth to clean her.
“Open for me,” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed and tapping her thighs.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking care of you.” Her eyes soften, and her legs fall open. I gently clean her up and toss the cloth through the bathroom door. I hear it land on the floor with a plop as I climb back into bed and pull her into my arms.
I don’t have words to explain what I’m feeling. I don’t know how to tell her what she means to me or thank her for the gift she just gave me. I’ve never been more glad of any decision in my life as I am that I waited for her.
“You’ll always have a piece of me,” she whispers.
“And you’ll always have all of me,” I counter. I hold her close as our breathing evens out, and we both fall fast asleep.
CHAPTER 21
Peyton
I don’t want to go home. The thought is sobering and sad all at the same time. I miss my family, but this connection that I have with Griffin is… something I can’t explain. It’s almost as if we’re tethered to each other. It’s more than just the love I have for him. It’s something more, something I can’t decipher.
“Hey, are you Peyton Monroe?” a woman who just sat next to me in the stands asks.
“I am. And you are?”
“I’m Cecelia Stone.” She offers me her hand.
Not wanting to be rude, I take her offered hand and shake. “Nice to meet you,” I say politely. Partly because that’s how I was raised, partly because Anna is sitting on my other side and Gary next to her. I don’t want Griffin’s parents to think I’m a bitch, and third is I don’t know if this woman is anything to Griffin, and being rude to someone who could be connected to him wouldn’t be cool of me.
“You’re dating Griffin Anthony?” she asks.
“Who did you say you were again?” I ask. I stiffen my shoulders, preparing for what comes next, but it’s not at all what I was expecting.
She smiles kindly. “I’m the head coach of the softball team.” She points at her shirt, and I clearly see the logo for Griffin’s college embroidered on the crest.
“I’m sorry. I’m just used to people realizing who my family is, and I get a little defensive at times.”