Grissom (In the Company of Snipers #26)

Chapter Nineteen

Tuesday had no experience with men, but the best lesson she’d learned early in life was simple: ‘If there’s a will, there’s a way. ’ And she was plenty willful. Hopeful, too. The only way to get the experience she desired with Grissom would be by practice, and practice made perfect. So…

Positioning herself over his lap with her legs spread did the trick. Grissom’s brown eyes were hooded again and his fingertips were digging into the cheeks of her backside, his thumbs into the tight crease between her thighs and abdomen. Her heart was seriously running one heck of a marathon, and she was nervous. But Grissom needed to know she was in this—whatever it was—with him, all the way.

A fiery line of tension ran down her centerline, joining her pounding heart to the heat pooling between her legs. If this was what it took to take their relationship to the next step, dayam, she was ready. She wanted Grissom, and whatever he needed or wanted to do with her. To her. If only she could stop shaking like a freaking virgin.

“I… I don’t know what comes next,” she murmured, afraid to look him in the eye, studying the shiny snaps on his shirt instead. “Show me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” With a grunt, he was on his feet, his fingers splayed over her ass, and walking swiftly into the hall. Nudging the door to his guest bedroom open, he elbowed the light switch on before setting her on the bed across the room. Returning to the door, he closed it, twisted the lock in the knob, and asked, “Lights on or off?”

“On,” she whispered, watching Grissom strip, needing to see him uncover every last part of the hard corded, all-male body she’d been secretly eying all day. She licked her lips at the thought of being with a behemoth like him. Being beneath him with his full weight spread over her. Hungrily. Eagerly waiting for the first sex of her life.

At last, she was on her first Grissom tour. He’d already popped the snaps on his shirt. It was open and untucked while his fingers deftly unbuckled his belt, and he toed off his boots. Rolling a hefty, tattooed shoulder, he tossed his shirt and then his pants aside. But not before he revealed the pocket pistol tucked into an ankle holster and the wicked blade sheathed and strapped behind his back.

“You were armed today?” she asked, her eyes scrolling over that fortress of a chest. The much-touted six-pack, comprising at least six tendons, sometimes more, stretched from left to right across his well-developed rectus abdominis. That was another tempting sight to behold. As was the black-as-sin tattoo running down his arm.

“I’m always armed, darling,” he replied, his voice husky and his eyes bright, more black than hazel. Man, were they bright. Not sparkling with mischief, but glowering like barely banked coals with lust, strength, and a toe-tingling, sizzling energy that had long ago turned her nipples into diamonds.

In no way was he metrosexual, one of those suave, urban males who shaved everywhere, every day, sometimes twice a day. Who’d never be seen with a hair out of place, and would ‘just die’ if they missed an appointment with their nail tech.

Dark, crisp hairs covered Grissom’s arms and legs. An even smattering of scruff graced his chest, and Tuesday couldn’t help blushing at the sexy trail running down his belly to the bulge in his briefs. Grissom was no inexperienced boy, no cocky, know-it-all college kid, either. He was all male, every last bulky muscle, every smoldering ridge and furrow, carved into his Mount Olympus physique.

Remembering what he’d told her about mouths being involved when men and women played together, Tuesday wondered where else her tongue and lips could wander over that rugged male physique. To those dusky, flat man-nipples? To the rigid rift between his hefty pecs? Down that tempting trail to his belly button to… there?

But would he like her mouth on him there ? Was he ticklish? She needed to know these things, not just wonder about them. Her palms itched to run through the trimmed beard on his chin. Grissom was a real-life cowboy. Rough and ready. A little ragged and worn, but… So. Damned. Hot.

She couldn’t control how her eyes instantly tracked the way his biceps expanded and flexed with every move, even when all he’d done was undress. Not only his biceps, but his triceps and pecs. His abdominals. His thighs and calves. His cock. That was what she most wanted to see. All of him at the same time. Naked. Grissom in all his primal glory.

Instinctively, her body arched at the thought of that handsome body pressed over hers. She needed to feel him, play with him. With it . Now. It looked damned impressive and long beneath his underwear. Thick. Hard. To heck with reading about sex, she wanted to play with every last part of the male biology lesson standing over her. Maybe he wanted her to get naked, too? She could do that.

Tuesday had barely touched the top button of her jeans when Grissom snapped out, “No,” and was on her. Angling his knees between her legs, he nudged them farther apart than her skinny jeans could allow.

“First time, I get to unwrap my present.” Impossibly, his already deep baritone turned deeper. So damned low and sexy, her core vibrated and her toes tingled, as if they were expecting an orgasm, too.

Grissom’s fingers moved to her buttons, but her shirt didn’t come all the way off. He unbuttoned it and just spread it open, then anchored it to the mattress with his palms. Open-mouthed, he stared down at what he’d bared. The tops of her breasts, her bra, and all her clenching, nervous stomach. His tongue ran a circle over his lips. “Fuck, you’re beautiful, Tuesday.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t dare, not as entranced as she was by the stark hunger glowering on his face. She liked that he used her name. Calling her ‘love’ was nice, but using her given name made this epic moment more intimate. More personal. A ton more special. He’d already declared he loved her, which seemed odd, considering how little they knew about each other. Using her name assured her that, whatever happened next, would be just between them. Just for Grissom and Tuesday. That the sight of her bare body turned him speechless? Frosting on the whole day.

When he lowered his head, her breath caught at the intense heat from his open mouth fanning her chest. His warm, wet tongue slipped over the tops of her breasts, tasting and licking, kissing, and…

Something very good was happening deep inside. She couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop it. Didn’t want to. Her back arched by itself, as if begging Grissom to lick her here, there, and everywhere. “Oh, oh, oh, man! More!” breathed out of her in a wild frenzy of stars and pleasure and… wow. She had no idea kissing could feel so good.

“We’ll take it slow,” he murmured, scraping his beard up her neck and her chin, his mouth ending on hers. Deftly, his tongue arrowed between her lips and tangled with her tongue, encouraging her to explore and play. To be brave.

So Tuesday decided, yes. She’d been brave before. This was no different. Anything worth doing was worth doing well, and… What is it with the freaking idioms? Enough already!

Determined to get this show on the road, and to act like she knew what she was doing, she relaxed her jaw and opened her mouth wider. Giving back as good as Grissom was giving her. Using her tongue as a pointer while that unusual, but very pleasant pressure built inside of her again. Loving every nibble of his whiskered lips over her breasts. Luxuriating in the warmth of his massive body rubbing against hers. Stabbing her tongue into his wine-flavored mouth as far as she could. Sucking his lips and then his tongue, loving wine-flavored Grissom. In no way did she feel diminished, put upon, or prudish. Not as great as he was making her feel. Which was—

Happening again. “Oh, oh, oh! Oh, no! Grissom!” She growled like a wanton female dog in heat. If this was just her body getting ready for his, she wanted more.

His breath fanned over her with a sultry, “But oh yes, my love.”

With practiced ease, he slipped off her shirt and her bra, and she had no idea where they went. All she could see were flames of desire in his eyes. The heat of his breath on her bare breasts was gasoline on fire. Tuesday had never before been so turned on nor so frantic for physical relief from the intense pleasure taking her body by storm. These feelings, these crazy, wild, wonderfully erotic, almost painfully pleasant feelings, were lightning bolts sparkling up the insides of her thighs, sparking back and forth between her nipples, and then down to her core and back up her stomach again.

He’d turned her into a writhing, moaning woman. A needy, feral animal made of muscle and electricity. A ferocious hungry woman who wanted more than just to lie still and be a good girl while he explored at his leisure. Every part of her ached for more. The added suspense of wondering what he’d make her feel next was powerfully arousing. Her thighs widened, granting him more access to the secret parts of her bare body. Like Grissom needed permission, given how tightly he’d locked his still-clothed pelvis into hers. If only they were skin to skin.

“Underpants,” she growled into the busy mouth covering hers, her tongue jousting with his to get that command out. Simply pressing against him wasn’t enough. The fiery heat consuming her was part of the whole Grissom package, as were his eager mouth and the work-roughened hands mapping her body. And she wanted the whole deal. All of him. More. Now!

Activated by instinct and running on lust, Tuesday lifted her hands from where she’d pressed them meekly at her sides. Giving herself permission to touch, she ran her fingers over his ribs, to his powerfully muscled back, and to… There. Down the dip at the small of his back. Over the rigidly flexing tendons and muscles pumping eagerly against her nakedness. Under the waistband of his briefs. Over gloriously taut, smooth, muscular buttocks. Just thinking about getting him naked and inside of her had Tuesday primed and burning for the next step that was—taking too long to get there!

Licking his way out of her mouth, Grissom rumbled, “Ah, ah, ah, tonight’s not about me. Only you.”

Whatever that meant. She couldn’t get him out of his underwear, though, darn it.

His briefs still covered too much, but his hands were holding her head in a vise while he tenderly sipped at her lips. Too soon, yet not soon enough, his sipping turned to lapping, then…

He was making a meal of her mouth, their teeth clashing, their slippery tongues tangling together, everything in her driven by the need to mate. So strong it brought tears to her eyes and a flash-flood to her core. Swiftly, Grissom linked her hands in his fist above her head and kissed a path down the center of her body, feasting once again on her tender, aching breasts.

Releasing her wrists, he alternated suckling one swollen nipple while he tugged, pinched, and rolled the other. Then worked them over again. And again. Turning the tips into wet, hard, little beggars. Swirling his warm, wet tongue over and around each nipple as if it were his favorite popsicle. Gently biting, then full-mouthed suckling her breasts until every atom in her body was tuned to him. Only him. She’d never felt so adored. So loved. So horny!

The invisible line of electricity between her breasts and core was strung so, so tight, that it hurt. Not that he should stop. Oh, no, no, no. Back and forth he went, his hair skimming her chin and tickling her nose. The brush of his beard and his hot breath on her wet nipples turned them into ice. The steamy cave of his mouth warmed them just enough to burn and—

Another tsunami of hot, fierce pleasure broke loose from deep inside. A frantic, needy wave ripped up over her belly and breasts like wildfire. “Ahhhhh! Darn!” Tuesday growled, earnestly shoving her upward into Grissom’s partially clothed body, needing more friction. Needing him naked. All of him. Every hard-corded muscle, every scrape from those crisp, manly chest hairs. She was on fire, burning from the inside out, and… “Ah! More! Grissom, I need more!”

“Shush,” he murmured, covering her mouth with his hand. Too late. The wave rolling over her was large and way too hot to contain. Too much! The world turned Fourth of July fireworks bright, and she was lost, screaming in its throes. An overwhelmingly erotic need had Tuesday striving to clamp her legs back together. Too much! The sensation barely receded when another wave swelled low and deep. Her fingers clenched before she realized her nails were dug into Grissom’s shoulders.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she murmured, dazed by the strength of foreplay, if that was what this was. But dayam . If this was foreplay, what would an orgasm force her to do? Hurt Grissom? Never. She pulled her hands away from him.

“No, love. Don’t stop. Don’t let go, just feel,” he ordered, as if he’d read her mind. Which maybe he could. He was the teacher here, the man with tons more experience. “I’m tough; I can take whatever you dish out. Feel, Tuesday, just feel. Shut your mind down and let your body go. Don’t be afraid to get wild, to fly. Go crazy. I’m here for you. I’ll catch you when you fall.”

“Was that…? Did I...?” She had no idea how or what to ask.

“Yes, those wonderful feelings you had were orgasms. Three orgasms. You’re one helluva firecracker in bed.”

Three? Did not compute. That phenomenal pleasure was pulsing through her again, blocking logic. Like those lightning storms, pushing her up high, into light so intense and warm and wanton, another scream begged for release.

Every flick of his talented fingers created more sparks, and every spark, the need to scream and hold on tight. Her blood was running hot. She was out of control—flying like he’d told her to do. While his teeth and lips feasted on her tenderized nipples and aching breasts, slathering sloppy wet circles, nipping and sucking, and—

It was happening again. Her hips gyrated as that lovely, wicked storm built higher and higher until... “Grissom. Too much! I can’t. Too…!” It broke loose like a hurricane. Wicked, crazy lightning sizzled behind her closed eyes. Her hips bucked, desperately seeking the coarse friction of Grissom’s massive male body. Wanting him inside. Every last rugged inch of him. Their bodies slammed together. The only thing between them ? That darn cotton Hanes chastity belt he was so determined to wear.

Darn it! Tuesday wanted his underwear gone and him naked. The thought that too much sex could kill her flitted through her semi-conscious state of euphoria, even as her fingers crawled between them, down his belly, frantically seeking the overheated missile still in his underwear. But what a way to die. Burning together, in love and lust—just him and her. Only Tuesday and Grissom. Forever and ever.

At last. She found what she wanted, pumping him—just once—before he clamped a hand over hers and ended her willful exploration of his magnificent body.

“Please, don’t. Stop love. Hold still. You’re responsive as hell, and if you keep that up, I’m going to come,” he growled, his voice gruff and tight, his face pressed into the corner of her shoulder and neck.

Him coming sounded like a bad thing. “What’s coming?” she had to ask. “Will it hurt?”

“I’ve lost count,” Grissom huffed, his chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon. “How many orgasms have you had?”

“I have no idea,” she replied stupidly, still trying to catch her breath and not sure why he was counting. Must be a guy thing. She’d lost count at three, after he’d told her what those glorious feelings were. If they were orgasms, then… “Is coming having orgasms?”

“You’re so tight” —he pressed his monstrous erection, still completely covered by that darn Hanes barrier, between her legs— “Feel that? I’m so hard for you, I could pound railroad spikes. We need to slow things down. And yeah, coming’s another word for orgasm.”

“Slow things down?” she asked, loving the heat and girth of the lightning rod still pressing against her. Out of breath and panting, as tiny aftershocks lit up receptors she never knew her body had, she asked, “W-why slow down? I’m just getting started.” To prove it, she slid a sneaky hand down his taut belly, under that darned waistband, and back inside his briefs.

His smile turned delightfully tender the second her fingers circled the girth and thickness of him again. With lovely ridges and bulging veins. She wanted to look at it, darn it. At him. At all of him.

“Because you’ve never done this before, and I don’t want to hurt you. I’m not a small guy, and—” his shoulders lifted “—us going all the way tonight will hurt. But trust me, I’ll take it slow and easy, and we’ll work on it together.”

“Has anyone ever died of too many orgasms?” He was still hard as a spike, yet velvety soft and so, so hot. Made her want to put her lips on him—there. Maybe more than just her lips. Maybe her whole mouth. Bet he’d like that.

As if he’d read her mind again, Grissom’s entire face brightened even while he pulled her hand out of his briefs. Darn it. She’d lost her chance to fondle him.

“You keep saying stuff like that, love, and my head’s gonna swell.”

“Well? Has anyone?”

“If they did, they died happy,” he teased.

“I believe it.” Sweat trickled into her eyes, but Grissom captured her fingers before she could wipe it away.

“No hiding. Please, not anything from me. Ever,” he told her gently. Earnestly. The top of his fingers smoothing over her damp forehead. “Not your tears, your sweat, or your blood. Not your passion or lust, your pain or your rapture. Not your curiosity, your questions, or your fears. Never, ever hide from me, Tuesday, and don’t be ashamed of anything we do together. You want to try something new, tell me. Don’t ask. You’ll discover what you like and don’t like soon enough. We’ve got time. We’ll figure things out as we go. I’m just so damned honored to be the first man who’s been with you like this. But I had to stop you. If you’d kept squeezing me like you were, things would’ve gotten messy, and I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

A fiery blush stormed over her face, no doubt leaving bright red splotches in its wake and watering her eyes. “Okay, I guess. Agreed, no secrets. Only trust and honesty. That’s a good rule. But Grissom, honey.”

Impossibly, his eyes grew darker. Lust still glittered there, but—were those tears?

Sliding both hands up and over his rounded shoulders, Tuesday cupped that rugged, bristly jaw and stared into the worried gaze of the gentle giant breathing down on her. Grissom might look fierce and angry to people who didn’t know him, but beneath that give-no-quarter, rough-and-tumble gunslinger, was a pure-hearted man earnestly fighting the world, and sometimes, fighting himself, too. She’d witnessed his panic attacks too many times today to pretend she hadn’t seen the cracks in that handsome fa?ade. But she also knew this beautiful, damaged man wouldn’t give up; that he’d fight to the death for his boys, and now, for her, too.

Running the pads of her thumbs under his eyes, collecting those rare, precious male tears, Tuesday gave back to Grissom what he’d given her. “You aren’t just the first man . You’re my only man .” She bumped her forehead to his. “You’ve made me—”

What could she say? There were no words for what Grissom had given her tonight. No one word could capture the range of emotions he’d ignited in the lonely stretches of her soul. For the first time in years, the hollowed-out pit in her heart was full. He’d changed her. Might’ve healed her. Right here, right now, in this bed.

“I’ve made you my woman, love,” he finished for her.

“And you’re my one and only,” she whispered, her hands curled around the back of his neck, her fingers threaded into his hair. “All. Mine.”