My Secret Santa Clayton (Silver Ridge Christmas)

17. Grace

SEVENTEEN

Grace

I was kissing Clay, kissing him…and it felt all wrong and somehow, perfectly right.

The rational part of me, the part that wasn't drowning in the taste of him, knew we were heading toward a catastrophe at breakneck speed. This was trouble with a capital T, but there was nothing in this world that could make me stop.

I clutched his shirt, pulling him closer, my fingers tangling in the fabric. I moaned softly, a sound that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside, a place that had been quiet for too long.

He paused, pulled back just far enough to look at me, those blue eyes scanning my face.

“Are you sure?” His voice was like gravel, rough and raw around the edges.

“Damn sure,” I breathed out, my voice threaded with a need that surprised even me.

How could I not be sure when every cell in my body screamed for him?

I yanked him back down to me, our lips crashing together in a desperate kiss, and then he was lowering me onto the blankets, his mouth never leaving mine, kissing me as though he wanted to memorize the feel of my lips. His tongue glided over the seam of my lips, requesting entry, and I let him…not just let him, I sucked him inside, moaning. I could feel those moans rattling in my chest, mingling with his.

How had I gone without this so long?

And why?

“I want you to fuck me,” I breathed. “Clay…please.”

He pulled back yet again, and I wondered if he was going to say no…if he was going to tell me we shouldn’t.

But he smiled and said, “Okay…but I’m taking my damn time with you, gorgeous.”

I didn’t have a second to argue; his mouth found my throat, planting hot, open-mouthed kisses that made me gasp. My fingers twisted into his hair, urging him closer, silently begging for more.

His hands moved to my button-up shirt, deftly working the buttons open one by one. No rush, no urgency, just Clay taking his sweet time while my heart hammered against my ribs. I felt exposed, vulnerable, yet I craved this, craved him peeling back the layers between us.

When my shirt fell open, he ducked his head, his lips tracing the scalloped edge of my bra. I squirmed under his attention, pulling him closer, wanting nothing between us. His touch sparked a fire in me, a fire that had been dormant for far too long.

“Clay,” I whispered, half plea, half demand. He gripped my waist and yanked me toward him, and I felt his hard cock through my leggings, his jeans. He rocked his hips against me, both of us taking staggered breaths.

“You feel how much I want you, Grace?” he growled. “But I’m not…not gonna rush this. Dreamed about it long enough that I want to appreciate every second. So you stay still and do as I tell you, okay?”

I let out a frustrated sigh, sitting up, hooking my legs around him—but he pushed me back into the blankets with a playful smile.

“My house, my rules,” he chuckled.

Then, with one hand still locked around my wrists, he leaned down and dragged my bra down with his teeth. His eyes darted up toward me, tongue darting out to play with my exposed nipple. I took a harsh breath, feeling his cock twitch even if the rest of him was still in control.

“Fuck…” he breathed—sucked, teased, nibbled. “Missed every damn part of you. This…Jesus…”

He started to suck on my breast in earnest, his free hand coming behind me to unhook my bra. My legs were still locked around his waist, and I ground against his hard cock through our pants. “Clay, I just…we can reminisce later.”

“Hell no.” His tongue licked against me on the “el” of those words, driving me wild. “First time, second time…I’m gonna worship you, gorgeous. Now keep your hands above your head…”

He moved lower, my shirt open, my bra half-off—but he was interested in something else now. Clay hooked his fingers in the waistband of my leggings and began to drag them down…and even though I wanted to fight him, to be a total brat, I kept my hands over my head.

I just watched as he undressed me, as he pulled my leggings off and tossed them aside, then looked at my underwear.

Grey lace.

“You wear these for me?” he asked with a smirk.

I blushed bright red. Because yeah…maybe I had. When I got dressed this morning, I knew I would see him later, and I’d never gotten out of the habit of wearing cute underwear for him.

“No,” I shot back.

He laughed low in his throat, a gravelly rumble that shot straight to my core. “Okay.”

Then he was ducking his head low, looking into my eyes again—and he licked my pussy through the lace.

I let out a breathy moan at even that slight touch, and I cried out when he latched onto my clit. The sensation of the lace between my skin and his tongue was heaven and hell, and the pleasure was quickly spiraling me out of control.

“You’re trying to kill me,” I panted, my gaze locked on his. He looked up at me, and I saw the mischief in his eyes as he held my gaze.

“I’m just getting started.”

With that, he pulled my underwear aside and began to lick me in earnest, his tongue dancing over my slit, teasing my clit until I was begging him to stop.

But I didn’t want him to stop. Not ever.

His fingers found their way between my legs, teasing me, driving me wild with desire. He slowly slid first one, then two fingers inside me, his thumb gently rubbing my clit as he continued to lick and suck on me. The sensation was too much, and I felt myself teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

“Clay…I’m gonna…”

“Come for me, Grace,” he commanded.

And I did.

It was the best orgasm I’d had in years—maybe the best since the last time I’d been with him, before everything went to hell. He fucked me with his fingers, watching me unravel, his breath going harsh and uneven.

“Fuck yes,” he gasped. “Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.”

He continued to lick and suck at me, tasting me, memorizing every sensation, as I panted and shook beneath him. My body felt like it was on fire.

When he finally released me, he pulled back and looked up at me—his face flushed with passion. “How do you say that again? Je…Jesus…”

I grinned at him, unable to contain myself. “Fuck you.”

He laughed then, a deep, velvety sound that made my heart race. “I’m not done with you yet, gorgeous.”

He reached down, taking my hand in his. With his other hand, he maneuvered my underwear down over my hips and off my feet. I lifted my hips, shimmying out of them so he could toss them aside with my leggings.

I was mostly naked now—my bra hanging loose, my shirt tumbling off my shoulders, my body buzzing with need. He was still dressed.

“Tell me how this is fair,” I said, glancing down at his shirt. I’d been wanting to see that body for a long, long time…and it was so close. “Can I touch you now?”

He moved closer, until I could feel his breath against my lips. “Please,” he rasped.

I didn’t waste any time; I reached for the hem of his sweater, yanked it off along with the t-shirt he wore underneath. I’d barely even discarded his clothes before my hands were on his chest, finding the subtle scars of tattoos, bigger scars from the military, soft chest hair that trailed down his hard abs to his…

His belt. I was already working on it, unlooping it, yanking it away.

“Wanted to take my time,” he teased, and I laughed against his lips as he kissed me.

“I don’t,” I shot back. “I want you, Clay. I want you inside me.”

His kiss turned feral as I worked on his jeans, as I reached into his pants. I found his shaft nestled in more soft curls, and we moved so he could free himself. I wrenched my lips from his?—

Looked down at him.

Fuck, he was big. Bigger than I remembered. I hissed out an eager breath as I stroked him, my mouth practically watering. And I’d planned on teasing him like he’d teased me, but…

“Come here,” I begged, wrapping my arms around him.

He was on top of me again, then, boxing me in against the fluffy blankets as the fire crackled beside us. His hips fit perfectly in the cradle of my thighs, and my fingernails raked lines across his muscled back. I felt him reach for himself, felt his head prod at my entrance?—

“You sure about this?” he asked, eyes darting to mine—and those words…they were from another time.

So I responded the same way I did years ago.

“Shh…you won’t hurt me.”

Recognition sparked in his eyes.

And he sank into me.

It was like a warm wave washing over me, the feeling of him filling me up completely. I whimpered in pleasure-pain, closing my eyes and trying to focus on the sensations. His hips moved slowly, deliberately, as he took his time reacquainting himself with my body.

“Fuck, Grace...” he groaned, his voice rough and hoarse. “You're still so tight...so fucking tight.”

He kissed me then, deeply and passionately, as if trying to convey everything he'd been holding back all these years. I responded eagerly, matching his passion with my own. This was what I'd dreamt about, what I'd yearned for—it was even better than I'd imagined.

His hands were everywhere—cupping my breast, teasing my nipples, stroking my cheek, gripping my hips—each touch sending another jolt of pleasure coursing through me. I couldn't get enough of him, couldn't get close enough. I needed him deeper, harder, rougher...

But Clay was taking his time, savoring every moment like he knew this might be the only chance he'd ever have. And though his thrusts grew harder, more urgent, he never rushed. He made love to me slowly and deliberately, worshipping my body in a way that left me breathless and soaring with pleasure.

“Tell me what you want,” he growled against my lips, his eyes burning with desire. “Tell me what you need.”

The words were a shock. I hadn't expected him to ask for anything, to give me control. But there was something intoxicating about being able to guide him...to make him fulfill all the fantasies I'd nurtured over the years.

“Harder,” I gasped, arching my back.

I didn’t expect what he did next; he wrapped his arms around me, scooped me up, and hauled me into his lap. It made him sink in deeper, and we both groaned in pleasure, my eyes squeezing shut.

“Fuck yes,” I hissed.

“Use me, Grace,” he urged me. “Ride me.”

So I did.

I slowly moved my hips, rocking against him in circles, feeling the delicious friction it created. I leaned down and captured his lips in a fierce kiss, savoring the taste of him, the smell of him...the feel of him beneath me.

“Harder,” I demanded again, as our lips parted and our breaths grew ragged.

He laughed, a low, guttural sound that sent shivers down my spine. “I’ve got you.”

With that, he reached around me and grabbed my ass, pulling me tight against him. His hands were rough against my skin, but I reveled in the sensation as he thrust up into me with a newfound urgency. The sound of our bodies slapping together filled the room, punctuated by our moans and gasps.

“Fuck, Clay...” I whimpered as his pace quickened. “I'm going to come...”

He grunted into my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Come for me, Grace. Show me how much you want it.”

I bucked my hips wildly, riding his every thrust, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. His hands tightened on my ass, pulling me harder against him as he fought against his own control.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he growled, his voice thick with passion.

“Come inside me,” I urged him, riding the wave of his climax with him. “Wanna…wanna feel you, please?—”

His thrusts grew ragged, desperate, and I knew he was close. I felt him tense beneath me before he groaned loud and long, his body seizing up as he found his release.

I sank down onto him fully, feeling the warmth of his release fill me completely as I rode out my own climax.

We stayed like that for a long moment, our hearts pounding in unison, our breaths ragged, our bodies still joined together. Finally, we disentangled ourselves and collapsed into the blankets beside each other, exhausted and satiated.

“I think I might actually be drunk on you,” I laughed softly, running my fingers through his hair.

He chuckled alongside me. “That's a new one.”

We lay there, basking in the glow of the aftermath, feeling the remnants of our passion still coursing through our veins. Tendrils of doubt tried to creep into my thoughts, but I shoved them away, focusing instead on the warmth of Clay's body pressed against mine.

Doubt could wait.

Tonight, I just wanted to be with him.