Page 238 of Cross Check

Adrenaline thumps in my blood as he adds two more fingers. I groan his name, a plea when he turns his wrist and curls all four inside of me. Quick, rough. His thighs bracket mine to hold me in place as he sends me racing toward an orgasm.

I open my mouth to say something else—to beg, to plead, to worship him, I don’t know—but no sound comes out. I’m speechless, swept up in the growing ache low in my belly and the heat coming off his body. Grant hooks his pinky around my actual necklace, tugging it at the same time he presses his thumb to my clit. I spasm, the shockwaves of the first ebb of ecstasy gripping me tight and refusing to let go.

Immense pleasure ripples out from my head to my toes, my body a coil that’s sprung free when he brings his hand to his mouth. He spits in the center of his palm and strokes his length with a quick jerk before lining up, the head of his cock already pushing inside me while I still chase the high of his fingers.

“Fuck,” I sputter at the stretch.

“So fucking perfect,” he grunts, biting the curve of my shoulder where I can hide his markings.

It’s too much. I’m too full and he’s too big. I’m too sensitive from his thumb finding the perfect spot, but that doesn’t stop him from driving into me. Sharp thrusts rock the bed, and I squeeze my eyes closed. I want to touch him, want to guide him, and I put a hand on his ass. I dig my nails into his cheek, laughing softly when he careens forward with a strangled noise.

“Did you like that?” I ask, and he kisses me before answering.

“Very much,” he says. His glasses fall down his nose, and the frames are foggy. I reach to take them off, but Grant shakes his head. “I want to see you when I finish on you.”

A new rumbling of lust starts to brew with his body heavy on mine. I put a hand on the back of his head and pull his hair, urgent as I lift my hips and take every inch he gives me.

We’re coordinated, knowing each other’s preferences and the angles that feel the best. Less fumbling, less learning. He’s confident when he touches my clit again. I’m assertive when I kiss his cheek. We’re in perfect harmony, and I don’t know where I end and he begins.

“Thank you, Grant,” I say. He mumbles out a string of curses into my neck, right above where his fingers rest. “Thank you for making me feel so good.”

“Fuck. You’re so welcome, baby. Turn over. Want to fuck you from behind before I paint your ass with my cum,” he says.

I groan when he pulls out and leaves me empty and desperate. My body is slow to wake up, and I flip to my stomach with a stuttered exhale. He runs his hand down my spine, gentle until I get on all fours. When I do, he gives my backside a smack that surprises me in the best possible way.

“Please,” I say. “I need you back in me.”

“Let’s finish together, Lia.”

His cock is slick when he enters me again, and I’m so glad he decided to stop wearing a condom. I love being able to feel every glide, every vein as he pounds into me. Thick, hard. I rock back on his length, taking the reins while he holds my hips with a bruising grip.

I work him up and down, wanting him to feel as good as he makes me feel. Grant’s breaths turn ragged. His shirt brushes against my ass each time our bodies connect, and it’s the most surprisingly wonderful feeling.

“You’re heaven,” he gasps, unwavering kindness even when he’s fucking me into the mattress.

Grant brushes the hair away from my neck, his mouth a warm press to my sweat-soaked skin. I wouldn’t mind my own tattoo, one of the outline of his lips so I can remember how alive he makes me feel.

I wiggle and grind against him, and he moves with me. He wraps my hair around his wrist and pulls taut, the bend of my neck enough to make me smile.

“I like when you’re rough with me. Like you’re not afraid I’m going to break,” I say, and my eyes flutter closed. I’m on the precipice of a trance. Grant has my heart and my body, the swell of my desire for him burning from the inside out. “Makes me feel like you really know me.”

“I know you.” The hand holding my hair loosens, the pressure ceasing. The same fingers slip between my legs, and, god. The precision, the circle of his thumb. My mouth goes dry at his amused chuckle he follows up with, “I’ve known you for years. I know you better than anyone else.”

“I didn’t know it was a competition,” I say, his cock hitting the perfect spot that has me grasping the sheets tight.

“We both know I’d win if it was.”

Grant would win by a mile, and it’s not even close. I let him prove all the ways he knows me. I give in to his hands and his mouth and the hard jut of his cock that he pulls out and teases on my clit.

He slams back inside me, palms dragging over my body as if he’s exploring me for the first time. I’m a stick of dynamite waiting to explode from all the stimulation. The sounds of our tangled moans and the slap of our hips is dizzying, and I surrender to the indulgence I’m craving.

“I’m going to come,” I tell him in warning, in proclamation, in fucking exultation.

Sex has never been hedonistic and easy like this.

“I’ve been doing math in my head for five minutes, baby. I’m ready when you are.”

His choked relief throttles me when he pulls out and rests his cock on the curve of my ass. Fingers fill the space he just left, and I’m a mess of limbs and last gasps of air as his knuckles knock against my cheeks while he jerks himself to completion.