Defining Us (Rocky Waters)

Chapter 11

11

AINSLEY

G rayson hastily strips off his clothes. His eyes watch me the entire time I’m shimmying out of mine, his heated stare causing jitters all over me. As I pull my shirt over my head, I glance around the pantry. It wasn’t the size alone that drew me to the pantry, but it’s huge. It may even be bigger than the kitchen in my apartment. It’s a walk-in one, with counters—yes, like kitchen counters—attached to the wall on both sides. There are shelves above the counters and pullout drawers down below. Almost all of Grayson’s small kitchen appliances and the pots and pans are stored here. And the thing is stocked with food. I’m pretty sure I could cook with the food in here and not have to restock for at least a month. Now that I’ve finally gotten a naked, and very erect Grayson ready to pounce on me, the whole appeal of the pantry has me even hotter and bothered. And pounce he does, before my shirt actually hits the floor.

Leaning in close, he instructs gravelly in my ear, “Turn around and put your hands on the counter.” As I turn around to follow his orders, he’s pushing a few items out of the way. Like all aspects of his house, the pantry is tidy and organized. The only things “out of place” are the ingredients we used for dinner and dessert.

I lay my palms flat on the counter and just wait for further instruction. Grayson slides up behind me and spreads my legs wider. My pulse quickens in anticipation; my body knows this will be good. “Damn, girl, you’re wet.” His voice at my neck sends shivers down my spine. “Actually soaked,” he amends as his fingers enter me. He slowly starts to move them, just enough to tease me. Grayson seriously must have superpowers because I’ve already reached that point where having his fingers anywhere near my wetness causes me to moan and then my eyes go closed. Since he’s behind me, I figure he doesn’t need to see me come. Because that’s what I’ll be doing. Very soon.

His fingers push in and out, hitting that deep place inside. It takes only a moment to rise to my toes, the power of the orgasm rocking me to the core. It makes my legs quake, so much so that I can barely stand. My feet lower to the ground and once they hit the floor, my arms sag with the weight of my body and I’m falling toward the counter. Grayson pulls his fingers out of me and wraps his other arm around my waist. In no time, he lifts me off the ground and sits my ass on the counter. It’s not nearly as spacious as the island, but since I’m hyped up on pure adrenaline and Grayson, I don’t notice it so much. My head falls back to rest against the cabinet, and when I finally pry my eyes open, Grayson’s watching me.

“That’s one,” he exclaims, “but not done yet.”

I can’t even think or move before the guy is kneeling on the ground in between my thighs. He uses his shoulders to widen them slightly, giving himself a better view of me. Noting the desire in his eyes, I figure he’s going to attack at any moment, so I’m temporarily caught off guard when he starts trailing gentle kisses up my right thigh. I know I shouldn’t be selfish; I mean, he did just get me off, but I’m insatiable for him. And somewhat impatient.

As if sensing what I need without me having to ask—or beg, if the case might be—he quickly finishes up his kisses, ignores the other thigh completely, and hones in on my clit. I swear, with one lick of his tongue, it drives me back to the top of the ledge. Again, it won’t take much to make me topple over .

Placing his hands on my inner thighs, Grayson continues to devour me with his tongue. Like he’s tasting the best food in the world. His tongue glides in and out of the place his fingers were not moments ago, but I’m done for when he takes my clit into his mouth and sucks. Hard. However, the pain is masked by the pleasure I get as I not only slip over the edge but come barreling down the other side as I ride out another intense orgasm.

I can barely speak, let alone breathe, as Grayson attempts to apparently lick me dry. Once he’s satisfied, he pulls his head out and with a grin says, “That’s two, darling. How about a third?”

I nod my agreement as I continue to catch my breath. When I’m finally able to speak, I tell him, “You too this time.” I’m not sure if he was waiting for permission or if it was his plan all along, but he’s grabbing a condom out of the box and sheathing himself just as quickly. “Well, that was disappointing.” A small chuckle escapes. His eyes find mine, questioning my words. “You just rolled that on like nothing. Where’s the sexy like last night?”

Knowing my meaning behind the statement now, he wiggles his eyebrows and his lips curl up in half a grin. Instead of answering me, he proceeds to lift me off the counter and lays me on the floor, making sure to cradle my head and neck as he does so. Even in the sexy times, he’s so darn sweet. Happy with my position, he lies down on top of me, supporting himself on his forearms. With a tender sweep of his tongue across my lips, he makes his move, lining his dick up with my opening. I pick my head up off the ground so I can watch him. With his head right above my breasts, his eyes pore over my body slowly and he licks his lips. I’m about to ask him what he’s thinking, and maybe tell him to get moving too, when he suddenly thrusts inside me with no warning.

“Oh,” manages to escape my mouth before my head falls back toward the floor, leaving my neck exposed. While moving in and out below, he takes the opportunity to kiss and suck on my neck. “No marks,” I squeak out as a warning to him. In understanding, he moves his mouth away from my neck and onto my breasts. No one will see those marks, I think with a smile .

I can’t focus on anything else but Grayson thrusting in and out and his sucking on my breasts. He moves from one to the other in a rhythmic way as his dick hits deeper and deeper inside me, filling me completely. Almost without warning, my orgasm pummels into me and I’m shouting Grayson’s name. I have never come so hard. Ever. “Seeing stars” doesn't do this orgasm justice, possibly ruining me for all other orgasms for the rest of my life. Yeah, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but this guy knows what he’s doing.

I don’t even have time to recover as I hear Grayson’s “Fuckkkkkk,” emptying himself into the condom. Spent, he falls heavily on top of me, matching my breathing almost breath for breath. A few minutes pass, he pulls out, does something with the condom, and then he’s shifting us so that I’m now on top. I lay my head on his chest, listening as his breathing starts to even out. The combination of his breathing and the three orgasms leave me in a hypnotic state; my eyes shut as I try to process my feelings of what this man does to me. His fingers find my hair and he begins to twirl, a habit I've come to enjoy the past two days. I’m not sure I ever want him to stop.

“Hey,” Grayson starts, bringing me out of my thoughts, “when did you put the condoms in here?”

“While you were cooking on the grill. I knew there was no way we were going to want to go up and get them after the others left.”

“Genius. And that was totally worth the wait.”

“Um, totally,” I say with a laugh and then try to stifle a yawn.

“Come on. Let's go up to bed.” He waits for me to move off of him before he pushes himself off the floor.

I lead him into the kitchen. My heart sinks a bit when I realize that the dishes still need to be done. He must notice them at the same time when he declares, “Ah crap. Oh well. I’ll do them in the morning.”

He follows close behind me upstairs. We both throw on PJs, brush teeth and get ready to hop into bed .

Noticing the bed is made, he looks over at me. “Do you always make your bed?”

I shake my head. “No, just when I change the sheets.”

“You changed my sheets?” His tone is hard to read, as are his facial expressions.

“Yes?” I pose it as a question. “Is that okay?”

He pulls me into him. “Yes, of course.It just caught me off guard that it would be something you would do. I love the feel of new sheets, especially when I don't have to make the bed.”

He lets me slide in first and then he comes up behind me. It’s been a long while since I've had someone to cuddle with. I love how he tucks his arm underneath me, under the pillow.

He's quiet for a few minutes and just when I think he’s asleep, I hear him whisper, “Ask me now.”

The drinking question.

I meant what I said to him earlier about him telling me when he was ready; I wasn't planning on asking him, especially tonight. I’m glad he's willing to talk about it though.

“Why don’t you drink?” I question in a low voice, almost hesitantly even though he gave me permission to ask him.

He takes a couple of deep breaths before he answers. His answer is not something I'm expecting.

“My parents were killed in a car accident by a drunk driver. That day, I promised myself I would never let myself get to the point of being the reason why someone loses a loved one.”

He goes quiet. I’m not sure how to respond. I know I gasped with the initial declaration. There are so many questions I want to ask him, but not sure that he will answer all of them.

“Oh Grayson, I'm so sorry.” I turn my body to face him. His face shows little emotion. “When?”

“Five years ago.” His eyes are the only piece of him that reflect any emotion. The deep brown of his eyes is slightly lighter, softer in a way.

No wonder he doesn't talk about his parents. I want to wrap him in my arms and never let him go. Before I get a chance to do that, he pulls me in closer to him, my head being almost swallowed by his chest.

I think back to something he said that first night on the phone. “Rich is a relative term.” It’s clear Grayson has financial means, but it must have come at the cost of losing his parents. How horrible for him!

My eyes start to dampen. Luckily they are still buried in Grayson's chest.

In a move so unlike the Grayson I know, he starts to tell the entire story. How his parents were his whole world, along with Bella. Where he was when he got the call. How Bella took the news. The funeral and the aftermath of having to deal with everything, moving back into this house, taking care of Bella and Kylie. How Bella shut down for a few months, and he was afraid he was going to lose her too. How Bella copes by drinking, sometimes too much, but Kylie always makes sure she never has the keys. He gives me all of it. And when he's done, I'm a sobbing mess, and he’s the one comforting me.

I manage to squeak out an “I'm sorry” but it’s more for my behavior and lack of composure than about him. I follow that up with a “thank for you sharing.” He probably thinks less of me now that he knows how I deal with devastating news.

I fall asleep in his arms. When I hear the faint buzzing of the alarm the next morning, I realize I'm still entangled with him. I find it really hard to make my body move and pull out of his embrace. Grayson starts to move as he slowly wakes up. He finally manages to shut off the alarm, but once he does that, he comes back to cuddling with me.

“As much as I don't want to get out of this bed, we should probably get moving. You need to drop me off at home before work.”

He groans and pulls me closer to him. “Five more minutes.”

I sink back further in his arms and when they wrap around me, they are somehow lighter.

When more than five minutes have passed, I drag myself out of his arms. “Come on lazy bones. We need to get showered and moving.”

He quickly pops up, flips me on my back and hovers over me, supported by his forearms. Even though his face is so close, I can't help but admire his bulging biceps. They give the term “arm porn” a whole new meaning. As I lick my lips and stare, he catches me watching. Instead of calling me out, he pushes down lower on his arms and makes them pop even more. He does ten push-ups over me, as I stare, openmouthed. Every time he comes down, he places one kiss on a different part of my face. The last one ends with a kiss on the lips, and I'm forced to close it as he massages my lips with his tongue.

After he does one last push-up, he pushes himself off and flops down on the bed next to me. “Your turn,” he instructs. “Let's see who's the lazybones.”

I take the same position over him and pretend that I can do push-ups. I can't get traction on the bed and my arms are too wide, so I end up flopping on top of him. He’s clearly enjoying watching me struggle, the evidence written all over his face. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes me in a hug. “You should work on that,” he tells me in my ear then flips us both over and pushes up off the bed. “Come on, lazy bones. I believe we have to get moving.” He saunters into the bathroom, disrobing as he goes.

“You're such a tease!” I yell after him, trying to catch my breath.

I hear his mumbled “so I've been told” come from the bathroom as the water turns on.

Shaking my head, I get off the bed and decide there's no way I can join him in the shower. I must make myself go to the guest room bathroom. We don't have time for any wet distractions right now, not only of the shower variety, even though I'm certain I've got one going on already. I force myself to leave his bedroom and go down the hall to the guest bathroom. Before I can even get my clothes off, Grayson appears, still wet from the shower, a towel hanging low off his hips. He looks taken aback to find me here.

“Don't give me that look,” I start as his lips curl into a pout and his eyes look like a sad puppy dog. “We don't have time for distractions.”

“What time do you need to be on campus?” he asks, lifting my shirt over my head. Once it's off, he leans in and kisses my neck.

“Eleven,” I manage to moan out.

In response, he lifts me off my feet and carries me back to his bedroom, trailing kisses up my neck the entire time. He sits me on the vanity in the bathroom—yep, it's that big—and removes my pants. He practically throws me into the shower, under the warm stream. Just when I think he's going to step in, he closes the door and walks away.

“Grayson!” I shout, wiping the water off my face.

He appears in the doorway, wearing just his boxers, looking all smug. And damn cute. “We don't have time for distractions, Ainsley,” he pretends to scold. “Wash yourself up.” He walks away again.

“Payback’s a bitch,” I call out. “Just remember that.”

He reappears again, this time wearing a T-shirt and mesh shorts. “I missed that. Care to repeat yourself?”

“Nope.” I grab a loofah, dump body wash on it, and start rubbing my chest and abdomen. Just for effect, I close my eyes and make sure I go low enough, between my thighs.

“Fuck, Ainsley,” he warns.

I turn around so he can't see me, but it’s more for myself than his benefit. He huffs and sighs, and then I’m fairly certain he leaves. I finish my shower quickly and resist the strong urge to relieve myself of the ache between my legs, which takes almost all of my control.

When I emerge from the bathroom, Grayson is nowhere to be found. I throw on my clothes and grab my hairdryer. I dry my hair and leave it down for now.

I toss all my toiletries and dirty clothes into my bag and go downstairs.

Grayson is standing in front of the stove, flipping pancakes .

“You made breakfast?” I ask, dropping my bag and taking a seat at the island.

“I took a chance you like pancakes. With chocolate chips,” he replies with a smile.

“Love them actually. Coffee?”

He turns his back to the stove and grabs something off the counter. When he turns back around, he's got a steaming cup. “There's milk in the fridge and sugar in the pantry.”

“Black is good.” I pause before I continue. “Can I ask you a question, since we aren't in the bedroom?”

He shrugs. “What do you want to know?”

I hesitate for a minute. I’m not sure how to pose it, but the wanting to know has been weighing on my mind since the other night. “I get the sense, from you and Bella and Kylie, that having girls sleep at your house isn't typically you.” I pause, working myself up to ask the question. I lower my voice when I finally get the nerve to ask it. “So why me?”

He ponders it a minute while he plates the pancakes. “Truthfully, I don't know. I felt a connection to you from the minute you walked in the bar, and that's never happened to me.” I wait for him to add more, but he doesn't. Typical.

“Yeah, I felt it too.So weird, but so good.”

He looks up at me as he passes me a plate of pancakes. “You want to do dinner tonight?”

“Only if I can cook for you,” I rattle off. “But here at your house. Your kitchen makes mine look like a cardboard box.”

“Okay,” he chuckles. “Let me know what you need, and I'll stop at the store on my way home from work.”

“You fucking grocery shop?” I ask in shock. And then tone it back. He clearly must since his pantry and fridge are stocked. “Sorry. You’re just the total package.” I throw my hand over my mouth. “Oh my god.I’m shutting up now.” To make sure I take my own advice, I start to eat the pancakes, which are mouthwateringly delicious.

He smiles at something I've said or done. Then he grabs himself some pancakes and takes a seat next to me.

“These are really good. Where did you learn to cook?” I ask in between bites.

“My mother. She was excellent and when she realized Bella had no interest in learning, she taught me everything she knew. I’ve always enjoyed it and loved that I shared that bond with her.”

“That's sweet. I feel the same way, but my dad is the chef in my family. My mom sucks.” In more ways than just cooking, I don't add aloud.

He seems to pick up on my implied comment about my mom. “You and your mom aren't close?”

I shake my head. “Nope. My brother is and always will be her favorite. Not that I'm bitter or anything. I have my dad and that’s cool with me.” I stop talking and go back to eating. I don't want to share more and now I definitely see the advantages of Grayson's “less is more” with words.

He changes the subject and I'm grateful for the distraction of having to even think about my mother. “Do you need to go home before work?”

“I need to get my car. And I should probably throw some makeup on my face.”

“Don't,” he says. “I told you already. You don't need it.”

I blush. “Thanks, but I still need my car.”

He goes quiet for a few minutes, and we each enjoy our breakfast. In a quiet voice, he breaks the silence with, “I could drop you off to work and pick you up.”

I swing my face around to gauge his intentions. “Are you serious?” He nods. “Is this like some sort of possessive fetish you have? Or a way of making sure I come back tonight?”

“Just a part of the package,” he returns with a smile. And hell if that smile doesn’t make me fall harder for this guy.

“Okay. You can do that, but I do need to stop at my house for my work bag.”

It's like I've told him he’s won the lottery. His face lights up with a smile so huge, it causes tiny fine lines around his eyes to appear.

“Ok cool,” he replies, as if he's hoping to diminish his excitement. “And maybe grab some more PJs and clothes.”

Before I can react to that comment, he goes back to his breakfast. I don’t miss the smirk he's not so conveniently trying to hide.

We finish breakfast, and I clean up the dishes as he finishes getting ready for work. And by that I mean, he brushes his teeth and puts a hat on and slips his feet into running sneakers.

“What time are you done with work?” I ask him as we pile into his Explorer.

“My last client is at two so by three-thirty I should be out of there.”

He didn't really go into detail about what kind of “clients” he services or anything about the gym he works at.

“What time do you need to be picked up?”

“My office hours end at four-thirty so I should be good to go by five.”

“Okay, I'll stop by the grocery store before I pick you up. Text me a list of what you need.”

“Do you have any preference on what I make or anything you don't eat?”

“I'm good with pretty much anything. Make me something that you enjoy eating.”

Under my breath, I mutter, “I could fucking get used to this.”

I guess it wasn't low enough because quietly he mumbles, “So could I.”