Dream With Me (With Me Book 4) (5 page)

Griff holds up a finger, a signal for me to wait, and then he leaves the room. He returns seconds later, a few condoms in hand. He takes off his boxer briefs, and his cock is the biggest, most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen. Thick and long, it juts out, the plush head a blush red, already beading at the tip. He crosses to me, pulling me to him, as his mouth devours mine.

We fall to the bed, his big, hard body covering me. I shiver with pleasure, from how safe and protected his strength and size makes me feel. His kisses just make me want him more, need him with a fever I’ve never known.

He scatters kisses on my face, down my neck, my breasts. He suckles each nipple into his mouth, a slight graze of teeth, a soft slide of tongue. I gasp. I moan. I pull him back to my mouth. He lifts his kiss away, and our eyes meet.

Yes.

Now.

He leans up, ripping open the condom and sheathes himself, then returns to me. His cock slides along the seam of my pussy, spreading me open.

I moan at the contact, the feel of him is utterly delicious. My hunger for him is undeniable, and then he starts a slow rub against me, not entering. Just a grind.

His cock moves along my lips, making me shudder. His mouth devours mine, his hands firm on my breasts, those sinful fingers against my nipples. I’m so wet, so ready. It’s not only want anymore. It’s instinct, pure and basic, that drives me. I move my hands down to grasp his firm butt.

His brown eyes go black as night, his jaw clenching tight, his arms shake just a little on either side of me. He needs to be inside me. And
I
need this with a desperate fervor.

His cock slides down, the tip poised at my opening. His gaze meets mine, and my breath holds at the look in them. At the desire. At the promise.

He enters me, pushing slowly, letting me get used to his thickness that stretches me to a sharp, biting pleasure. It’s so good that I feel a sting of tears fill my eyes. His brow deepens in concern, and he stills in me.

I put a hand to his face and caress his cheek. Letting him know that I’m good—more than good—with a simple touch. I blink the unshed tears away, so easy to do when they were brought on by such incredible pleasure. And I can’t help it; I start to smile, and the most incredible, unexpected thing happens.

He smiles. A small one. Just a turn of his lips at the corner, a dimple flashing in one cheek—just slay me now!—and those dark brown eyes of his warm. And seeing that I’m okay, he keeps going until he’s fully seated in me. It’s . . . it’s incredible. My hand slips down to his huge biceps, my other slides to his neck, and his go to my waist, holding on tight.

He pulls out all the way, then thrusts deep. My fingers dig into his skin, my hips raise to meet his sure, hard, relentless strokes. He’s not harried or impatient, and there are definitely no awkward moments where we try to figure out the pace or what turns the other one on. It’s natural how we come together, like we’ve been having sex for way longer than just now. And sex is not like this. It’s never like this for me.

It both excites and scares me how
right
this feels.

His hips swivel, and his cock hits a spot in me that makes me see shooting stars. I raise my legs to wrap around his waist, causing him to press even deeper inside me, and he grunts, his eyes slitting half-closed, long eyelashes creating half-moon shadows on his cheekbones. His thrusts turn harder, more determined, and . . .

He.

Does.

Not.

Stop.

Not once.

His stamina is out of this world, his power awe-inspiring, and his control is unbelievable. And me? I’m the total opposite. I grip him tighter, my back arching, and my touches are frantic. I’m not remotely in control. He leans down, his mouth capturing a nipple.

My fingers sink into his hair, holding him there, and then, impatiently, I tug him up so I can kiss him properly with tongue, teeth, and a heavy dose of sin.

He lets go of my mouth, looks into my eyes, and then he lets himself go.

Yes.

Yes.

YES.

He doesn’t falter, not once. His thrusts quicken; that super fine cock of his knowing exactly what to do. Deep. Hard. Demanding.

And I can’t hold on.

I can’t.

Not anymore. Not any longer. I come with a keening cry. The release is so intense and strong that it feels like my body is a series of fireworks going off. I can’t stop coming. It’s endless and mind-blowing, and I need him to come like I need air. My pussy clenches him tight, milking him. And he lets out a harsh sound, wringing out my last orgasm when he comes.

He rests on top of me, his weight heavy and welcoming, his cock still inside of me. His heartbeat drums against mine, both of us slick from sex.

He raises himself off, his cock leaving me, and I feel the tiniest twinge of soreness, but it’s so worth it. He sits on the edge of the mattress, removing the condom, his back to me. I lean over, my hand half-raised to touch that gorgeous back of his, when he stands to toss the condom in the trash. I hastily drop my hand back to the mattress before he turns around. His breath saws in and out, as he takes in my naked, replete form.

His cock jumps, growing thick once more. My body starts to ache for him. I reach for a wrapped condom on his nightstand and toss it his way. He easily catches it, and I beckon him with my finger, with my eyes, as I lie back on the mattress and spreading my legs. Inviting him to play once more.

And he takes me up on it with the best kind of RSVP ever.

‡

It’s half past midnight when
we finish with the last condom.
Four times
.
Four
. And that’s not even counting the five orgasms that happened on the dock.

This time when Griff gets up, I don’t pull him back, and he doesn’t turn around and give me that look that says
I’m going to fuck you
. Pleasure has been wrung out of me. I’m satisfied and happy, and it’s been the best night of my life so far.

Thank God I missed that boat cruise.

Griff tosses the last used condom into the trash and goes to his door. He glances at me once before heading out. Clearly he’s going to the bathroom, and I need to get up anyway.

I’m not fooling myself here. I know this was a random kind of thing. And I don’t want to have an awkward morning after. It’s not as if I’m even looking for a relationship. No way. It’s exactly one week until graduation. Getting serious about
any
guy would lead to disaster.

I make myself get up and call for a cab from Griff’s cell as I put my dress and jewelry back on. I’m zipping up the side of my dress when Griff returns. We pause briefly. I break first and tie the thin strings around my neck, and he steps into his room to grab a fresh pair of boxer briefs and gray sweats from the dresser. He puts them on along with a white tank. I try to smooth out my messy, just had sex hair. I know I have a hair tie in my clutch, but I don’t want to search for it right now.

Griff drags a hand through his equally disheveled hair. “You’re going?” he finally asks, his voice that deep, rough gravel.

“Yeah,” I say.

It’s the first words we’ve spoken since our hands accidentally touched at the dock.

“You don’t have to.”

As tempted as I am to stay over, it wouldn’t be smart. I don’t even know what this was exactly. A one-night stand? A random hook-up? Something else? I’m not even sure it needs a classification other than BEST SEX EVER.

“I kind of do,” I say.

Griff glances away.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I used your cell and called for a cab.” I turn his cell over in my hand, looking at the black phone case, and hand it over. “It should be here shortly.”

“Of course I don’t mind, but you didn’t have to do that—call for a cab, I mean. I could have given you a ride home.”

“This just seemed easier.” And wiser. “So . . .”

“So.”

“Well . . .” I’m at a complete loss for words. I’m never like this. I could tell him I had a fun time, but
this was fun
seems lame and not exactly the whole truth. It
was
fun, but it was something else, too. I clear my throat and pick up my gold sparkly heels from the floor. “I’m definitely not looking forward to wearing these, though.”

“Don’t.”

“You’re right. I won’t. The cab is going to pull up to the front anyway, and it’s not like I’ve worn these much tonight. They’re pretty uncomfortable, actually.”

“Why do you even wear them?”

I hold up the shoes. Glittery. Gold. Gorgeous. “Um . . . hello, have you seen them? These shoes are worth the pain. Any good pair of heels is.”

“If you say so.”

I open my clutch, because his eyes are so sure and steady on me, and find the hair tie. I pull my hair back in a low knot and meet his gaze. “I need to freshen up and, after that, I should head downstairs.”

“I’ll go down with you.”

I don’t attempt to argue that it’s unnecessary. From the stubborn set of his jaw, he’s already made up his mind and I’m not going to change it. I gather my things and brush past him on my way out, then stop in the bathroom to use it.

“Do you want anything?” he asks once I reach the main level.

“A bottled water would be great.”

He nods, then goes to the kitchen. I glance at my heels and decide that I’m going to wear them, so that Griff doesn’t try to carry me to the cab when it arrives. I sit on the stairs and put them on.

“I thought you weren’t going to wear those.”

I look up and grab the water from him. “Thanks for this.” I take a healthy sip before answering. “I changed my mind.”

I stand easily, my legs steadier than they should be after a sex marathon. My five-inch heels bring me almost to his shoulders.

“Well,” I say.

For some reason, this makes his lips twitch, a ghost of a smile appearing. “Well.”

I’m flummoxed. I have nothing to say. Nothing clever or flirty. I just have me—and what I
want
to say and what I
should
say are very different things. So I don’t end up saying anything. I just do what I want.

I lean up and kiss him softly.

And I end up lingering.

He grabs my waist, and he kisses me not so softly back. A car horn honks, and we break apart.

I peek out the window. “The taxi’s here. I have to go.”

“Evie.”

My name in that low, rough, rumbly voice. My name will never sound the same again.

“Griff.”

His eyes darken at the sound of his name from my lips.

“Don’t go,” he says.

I gesture to the door. “But the taxi—”

“Don’t go,” he says again. “Spend the night.”

I briefly shut my eyes, because I really, really want to do exactly that. But what would happen tomorrow morning? We’ve spent the last four years not liking each other, and I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that we did . . .
this
. I need to actually think. Process. Not jump into things for once.

I let out a sigh. “I can’t. I have to go.”

He nods, but the disappointment in his eyes just about kills me.

I head to the door and open it to wave to the cab so the driver knows I’m here. I turn back to Griff. So many questions flit through my mind. So many things I want to say. So many kisses I could give him. Instead, I hold back.

“Thanks for this,” I say, and before he can respond, I hurry to the cab where I give the address to my apartment.

Griff watches us pull away from the opened doorway, and it’s only after the cab turns the corner, his house far out of sight, that I let out a moan of frustration.

Thanks for this.
Really?
Thanks?!

I’m such an idiot.

Monday, Six Days until Graduation

‡

The smell of coffee and
bacon wakes me up. Bleary-eyed, I glance at my phone. 10:52 a.m. Much later than I would have liked to wake up but I did have a very tiring night. Just thinking about it gets me all hot and bothered. And I can’t help but remember how Griff invited me to stay over and how I walked away.

Smart decision, but I let out a groan, because Griff Sinclair is a sex god, and if I had stayed . . . it would have been a huge mistake. Morning after convo would have been ten times more awkward than the one where I
thanked
him before leaving. Not my greatest moment, for sure. And, truth be told, I’m confused by everything that happened.