Loan Shark Love

Grey is on his knees. For me.

His mouth engulfs my wet slit from behind, and licks and mouths at me without restraint. He pushes his tongue in and out and then flicks it over and over. I come quickly, nearly falling onto his face as I try to hold myself on my trembling legs.

I’m whimpering, aching for him, and when he stands and shoves his member deep inside of me again, it feels big enough to break me in two. The feeling of him is heavenly, and he shows me no mercy as he thrusts into me.

I’m so slick, I can feel my wetness running down my leg, even in the hot water, because it’s mostly on his back.

His mouth clamps down on my shoulder for a moment, gently biting my skin, and I can hear his breath in my ear.

His big hand comes around, at first pulling me even further onto his dick, and then his fingers circle me where I’m most sensitive, and I come almost instantly around him as he thrusts. I can barely hold myself up, the pleasure is so all-consuming, as Grey holds me in place.

His groans are muffled by the hot running water along with the sounds of skin slapping. I swear I can see stars from how hard he’s pounding into me, my head rolled forward, resting on the cold tiles of the shower.

I’m so close again, alternating between cursing and chanting his name as he fills me over and over again. Never stopping

Grey’s control and strength seem to falter as he groans behind me, still pushing inside of me, his lips slightly parted around its sweet sound. He thrusts once, twice, three times before burying himself completely inside me one more time.

We both cry out in unison, our voices echoing loudly around the private bathroom as we climax together.

My body trembles as heat spreads through me again; the only thing holding me upright is his body pinning me against the wall and his arm securely wrapped around my waist, where he’s still cupping me and rubbing my aching, wet slit with his fingers.

“Grey,” I say, tucked against his body. “I….” I don’t say it, but I want to.

I’m not sure what I’m trying to tell him, but I’m scared he will leave, and I want him to stay buried inside of me for as long as possible. His hand slides up until it’s wrapped around my belly. His forehead is pressed to my shoulder, where he leaves a kiss.

“Rosie,” he says breathlessly. “You’re everything to me.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Grey

Early morning is rising over the hills when I leave Rose sleeping in my bed.

After she told me that she indeed cared for me as much as I care for her, I carried her into my bedroom, and we fell into a deep sleep that only happens after a round of mind-blowing lovemaking.

Our time together isn’t just sex, and I want to be sure that she knows that. I fully intend on being by her side as long as she’ll let me stay there.

Rose is the beginning of things, and she’ll be at the end of them, too.

It was odd to think that we only met because she needed a loan to help her father’s business out of the clutches of corporate capture. I plan on telling her that the money is hers and she doesn’t need to pay it back.

I’ll also give her any more that she might need in the future. I have enough to spare for the both of us.

I really doubt that she is the type of woman to take handouts, but she loves me, and I love her, and maybe that will be enough to convince her to take it.

The lofty rooms of the house are lit by the rising sun, glowing pink and bright orange, and it’s nearly silent around the space. I walk over the hardwood floor, feeling the cold seep through to the soles of my feet. It keeps me awake and alert.

I feel safe in my home, but one never really knows. Now that I have Rose with me, I can think clearly about the Godwin situation. I need to come up with a plan, or it will completely ruin me.

The kitchen smells of warm coffee, the fragrant scent wafting out into the hall. It’s the butter pecan blend that Natalie always likes in the mornings.

I find my sister sitting at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of hot coffee. Her red hair in a wild-looking braid and her bangs stuck to her forehead. She wears a soft, well-worn green sweater, the sleeves thick and threadbare. I’m almost sure it’s one of the ones that I asked her to deliver to the thrift shop in Brooklyn.

My sister looks as if she hasn’t slept a wink the entire night.