Page 54

“They feel—”

“Shh! It was a rhetorical question. I’m the one doing the inspection.”

I bite my tongue.

She adjusts my collar then lightly trails her fingers down my left arm, sending tingles of excitement through me. She traces my biceps then glides her hand lower, to my forearm. I can’t help but shiver. A mischievous smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, and in the firelight, her dark-brown eyes glimmer with undisguised heat.

“They feel very soft.” She presses both her hands to my chest then rubs them down my torso and over my abs. With a devilish smirk, she steps closer and reaches around me, taking a hold of my arse cheeks. “And the fit is”—she squeezes them—“good.”

She lets go, and her gaze drops to my crotch, where the fabric is already tenting. I can’t help it. I’ve refrained from sex for way too long, and this is too fucking hot.

“What’s going on here?” she questions with feigned innocence. “We have a problem: your trousers aren’t sitting right. Let me see what’s wrong.”

Slowly she grazes a single nail along the underside of my shaft, from my balls all the way to the very tip. I hiss, bending forward, scarcely believing the intensity of the sensation, the soft fabric of the pyjamas doing nothing to mute it. My cock reacts, swelling and pointing higher.

“Oh dear, that didn’t help. Something just isn’t right with these trousers. Let me investigate further.” Brazenly she wraps a hand around me. “Ah, this seems to be the source of the problem.”

She squeezes, and a low growl escapes my throat.

“Grace,” I warn, trying my best to keep my voice steady.

“I thought I told you to be quiet?” With her other hand, she puts a finger to my lips. “Shh! These trousers will have to come off, so I can see what’s causing this.” Another squeeze.

My muscles tense, my skin prickles. What’s happening to me? I’m experienced in the bedroom, so how come my heart is already beating so fast? It must be the months of abstinence. It’s the only explanation.

She sinks to her knees.

Despite her commands to stay quiet, I croak, “Grace? What are y—”

She yanks my trousers down, and like a coiled spring suddenly released, my cock leaps free, bobbing in front of her eyes for a moment before standing tall and proud.

She stares at it and licks her lips. “Take your top off. I want to see all of you.”

I don’t hesitate. I yank the pyjama top over my head and toss it to the side, then I step out of my trousers and kick them away. In the middle of the living room, I stand in front of her, completely naked.

“You’re shivering,” she observes. “Are you cold?”

I glance down and see she’s right. My whole body is shaking, but not with cold—with need.

“It’s just . . .” I begin.

But she’s not interested in my answer. She wraps a hand around my length, her grip somehow both gentle and firm at the same time. My words die in my throat.

Tenderly she kisses the tip. I groan, but it’s only the start. Next, she teases me with her tongue, licking around the entire circumference.

“Fuck!”

Chuckling softly, she gazes up at me and—maintaining eye contact—takes me into her mouth.

“Fuck!”

Her free hand rises and gently cups my balls, rolling them lightly in her palm.

Oh God. One hand cradling my balls, the other stroking the base of my cock, her mouth and tongue stimulating the head . . .

It’s too much. After just a few minutes, I realise I’m going to come. No, no, no—not this fast.

I reach out and grip her shoulder, trying to gently push her away. Instead, her grasp on me tightens, and her movements intensify, all of them working in concert to bring me to the edge of ecstasy.