Grinder (Seattle Sharks 1)

“Now that Lettie is out with your mom, did you want to be my date to Nine’s?” I asked, walking to the mirror by the breakfast table and adjusting my top one more time.

“No,” Gage said, and my eyes snapped up to his, where I could see him behind me in the mirror.

“What’s that?” I asked, sure I’d heard him wrong. He’d taken off the sleek, period accurate Captain Von Trap jacket, which laid over one of the island’s barstools. The tight white t-shirt he’d worn underneath left nothing to my imagination of the chiseled form beneath it—not that I needed to imagine, I was surprised he had a shirt on at all.

“No,” he repeated and I tilted my head. “You can’t go out tonight.”

My shoulders sank. “Did Lettie eat too much candy? Is she sick? I looked in the direction of her room, though I hadn’t heard his mother bring her home. I pulled up a text to Jeannine, my fingers working over the buttons. “I’ll go change and fix her some tea.”

I moved to go to my room, more than ready to strip this outfit off and slip into a role I was way more comfortable with, which was taking care of Lettie.

Gage snatched the phone out of my hand, tapping the screen to delete the text I had up, only to type out a new one. He turned the screen toward me before hitting send.

Change of plans. Spending the evening with Gage.

My heart jolted in my chest as the lust in his eyes turned molten. He took the clutch out of my hand and laid it and my phone gently on the table. He advanced toward me and I retreated until my back hit the edge of the kitchen island.

“Who says I want to spend the night with you?” I managed to say though my mouth had suddenly gone dry.

He placed an arm on either side of me, successfully caging me in and filling my vision. He trailed his lips along mine, just the breath of a touch.

“Am I wrong?” he whispered against them.

Heat sparked in my core as he planted a soft trail of kisses along my jaw. I tilted my head, giving him free reign over my neck.

“No,” I said, slightly breathless. Sweet mercy, that felt good.

“No, stop? Or no, please don’t stop?” He flicked his tongue against my collarbone and chills erupted across my skin.

I grabbed a fistful of his hair. “Don’t stop.”

Gage smirked and wrapped his arms around my hips, bringing our bodies flush as he claimed my mouth. I opened for him, letting his tongue trace the edges of my teeth as he expertly drew a moan from my lips.

“Gage.” I sighed, hooking my legs around his hips as he hefted me onto the island.

His lips worked their way from my mouth to the tops of my breasts that peeked generously out of the costume, to my tummy, where the fabric was tight and thin. He slipped his hands underneath the skirt, gripping my thighs.

“These fishnets may be hotter than those yoga pants you torture me with,” he said, a smirk on his face. “But a maid? Really?”

“Jeannine has a wonderful sense of humor,” I said, yanking him closer to me with my legs, sighing at the friction his perfectly placed cock offered me.

He growled, nipping lightly at my neck. “Remind me to send her a thank you note.” He dug his fingers into the holes of the tights as I pulled his shirt over his head.

Good God this man looked better and better every time I saw him shirtless. His broad chest and rock hard abs were glorious, and he was finally allowing me to touch them, which I did, like a greedy, starved woman. His skin felt so good underneath my fingertips, like warm velvet, and the groan on his lips when I dipped my hand to grip him soaked my panties.

He reclaimed my mouth, ripping the fishnets out from under the skirt as he licked and sucked my tongue. I gasped when he slipped the black lace thong to the side, his fingers finding home against my clit.

“Fuck, Bailey,” he said against my mouth. “You’re so wet. Perfection.”

I bucked against the pressure of his hand, sighing between his lips. He gave into my demands, obliging me with his fingers plunged inside me, curling them in a come hither motion as I rocked against him. Heat pooled low in my belly and all my muscles coiled as I tightened around him. He kissed me until I was breathless, before jerking his head back and working his way lower. He replaced his hand with his mouth, his head disappearing beneath my skirt.

The marble counter was cold against my barely covered shoulders as I laid on my back, gripping the edge of it above me—I needed something to hold onto and despite his shoulder being solid again, there was no way in hell I’d risk hurting him.

Was he? Yes, yes he is.

I gasped as his tongue worked over my clit, the already sensitive flesh reaching new levels of heat as he applied just enough pressure to torture me. The tips of my stilettos dug into his back as I arched against his mouth, moaning and writhing with the need for release. He’d built up my need for so long that I was already spun tight.

“Gage,” I groaned.

“I knew it. You’re fucking delicious, Bailey.” His breath was hot against me. “I could wear you around my face all fucking day.”

“I won’t let you if you don’t—” my words were cut off as he slipped his tongue inside me. A jolt of electricity shot through me, my body coiling so tight I thought I might not survive.

“Don’t what?” He asked, challenging me. I could hear the smirk in his tone but didn’t care.

“Please, Gage.”

“Say it, Bailey.”

“I need it.” The culmination of weeks worth of wanting him built inside me, and I was on the cusp of explosion.

“You really fucking do,” he said and pressed his fingers against my clit as his tongue worked me from the inside out.

I bucked against him, the added pressure gathering rapidly, and when he took my clit into his mouth, sucking it in just the right way, I came undone beneath him.

Holy shit. There were orgasms, and there was whatever the hell that was. It was another realm of pleasure I’d never seen.

He gave me only a moment, bringing me down with a few gentle strokes before I heard the beautiful sound of his zipper dropping. He finally came out from underneath my skirt, where I could see the fire in his eyes before he ripped open a foil packet.

My heart raced, loving that he didn’t take any time to stop, didn’t take time to think—he was as lost to this as I was. He slid my panties off and left my heels on. Gripping my hips, he drew me to where he stood, situating me on the counter at the perfect angle for the tip of his cock to tease my wet, aching center. He locked eyes with me, and I arched against him, one of his strong hands holding the small of my back. That was all the go signal he needed, and he plunged inside me.