He sucks me into his mouth as he twists his fingers, hitting a spot on the wall of my vagina that is akin to lighting a match in a house of gasoline.
I explode, come completely apart in a chaotic climax like I’ve never felt before.
“Grayson!” I scream, unable to control myself.
A flock of birds lifts from the trees, warning their friends that a woman is scaring the daylights out of them on the forest floor below.
He rides the orgasm out with me, sucking and licking and stroking me until I fall limp. My head feels heavy, my body reminiscent of what a run might feel like if I were so inclined to participate in that barbaric activity.
Grayson rocks back on his heels and stands. He heads to our pile of clothes and grabs his T-shirt. “You take instructions for shit,” he says, wiping his face off.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice hollow.
He laughs. “Stand up.”
“Do I have to?”
“Actually, no. You don’t. Just flip onto your front.”
I pull myself to a sitting position to see him rolling a condom down his cock. All of a sudden, I’m back in the game.
As instructed, I lay my belly on the swing and keep myself steady with my hands on the ground.
He pulls up behind me and grabs the edge of the swing, dragging it toward him.
“You know, you could—fuck!” I shout as he completely fills me.
My eyes water with the contact of my still-tender body. I try to get my bearings as he grips the swing on both sides of my body and works me back and forth against him.
The tempo is different this time. It’s harder. More intentional. More rogue.
It’s heaven.
I squeeze my eyes shut and feel him inside me, splitting me in half as he pumps deep inside my body.
It doesn’t take long before I find myself clawing at the edge of the orgasmic cliff yet again.
“I’m going to come,” I tell him. “I can’t help it.”
“Come, baby.”
Baby.
That’s all it takes.
I scream out, getting fucked harder for it. The wood bites into my stomach. My fingers burn as the forest scratches at the tips as I scurry for something to brace myself against.
Fireworks blast through my vision. A bomb goes off in my core. My heart beats so fast that I think I might die.
Grayson stills inside me. A low, guttural sound emits from his throat, and I try to turn to see him fall apart, but there’s not enough power left in me.
I’m done.
Finally, after what feels like an hour, he drops the swing back to the starting point and helps me to my feet.
Sweat darts his brow, and a flush kisses his cheeks.
It’s a good look on him.
He reaches out and brushes the hair off my forehead and grins.
“Was that good enough for you?” he asks smugly.
“I mean, it was okay.”
He slaps my ass, making me laugh.
“Get dressed,” he says as he turns toward the pile of clothes. “We need to get you cleaned up.”
Suddenly, the percentage of being found pulses through my brain like a time bomb.
“I could kill you,” I say, racing to get my clothes back on. It’s not as sexy, and I’m not quite the risk-taker after the fact.
He slips his shirt on. “Why?”
“You lied to me. First, it was ninety-nine percent and then you get me naked, and it’s sixty-five.” I grab my bra. “You fucker.”
“Yeah, I lied.”
“So it’s sixty-five? That’s marginally better than a fifty-fifty chance no one would find us.” I glare at him as I twist my bra around and over my breasts.
“I lied about one of them.” He tosses me my shorts. “Now get dressed, and let’s go before you figure out which one it was.”
The smile he gives me is different. It’s warm. It’s personal. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen from Grayson Blake before.
It’s honest, as if I’ve finally met the true Grayson Blake.
This might be the only time I truly get to meet him. And, despite my best interests and all the things I know to be true, I kind of hope I see it more.
I shimmy on my shorts and shoes.
“I’m ready,” I say, blowing out a breath.
Instead of leading me back to the path, he stands there and watches me.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “You really are a prize, do you know that?”
I grin as he turns away and heads back to the trail.
A prize …
I’ve never thought of myself as a prize, but even though there was no cuddling afterward, and even though he didn’t say it was good for him, maybe I am.
Maybe I am.
Eight
Haley
“So, the flames?” Kaylee sits on the other side of my sofa, her legs crisscross applesauce, and her hands holding a slice of pizza. She’s been holding it for ten minutes. Every now and then, I notice a glob of cheese or a droplet of oil roll off the side and land on her knee. “Did the flames dance?”