I know it's been a while since I updated this story, and for this, I'm sorry – but as compensation, I published a new story today, set in my Haylie/Ada verse, titled Out of the Loop, which I strongly advise you to check out :P Also, in my defense, a lot has been happening in my life lately, and not everything is happy – there are things going on in my life right now that are leaving me emotionally drained, so please, be patient with me. This being said, I do plan on getting back to the daily update schedule from today – and what's the better way to celebrate it than some smut? :)
Love Me Like You Never Loved Before
Before Skye, Grant had never been overly into making love. Sure, he loved sex, he loved women – he is a red-blooded, healthy man, after all. But it had always been kind of a chase for personal satisfaction rather than an act of giving pleasure and receiving it in return; but at least he did choose his partners accordingly, and always made sure that they reached the peak of pleasure as well – it was a matter of pride, really. But then that was it – no sentiments, no whispered sweet nothings, no gentle caresses, just a race for pleasure. John had always taught him that women were only a means to an end, after all.
But Skye… Skye is different. She is a goddess among men. She is to be worshipped.
And worship her he does – every single day.
Like when he finds her in the bathroom at the end of a long day – fresh out of the shower, her hair still damp, her body wrapped up in a towel, putting her razor away, having just finished shaving.
She is just too divine, he can't help himself.
So he sneaks up behind her, puts his arms around her waist, pulls her close and attacks her neck with kisses in a loving assault. She jerks at first, startled, then melts into his embrace, leaning against him and letting out a content sigh as he licks at her pulse point. He needs no more encouragement – letting her go for a moment, he turns her towards himself, then picks her up, making sure that her legs wrap around his waist – her bare, hot core pressing against his denim-covered groin –, and carries her out of there, into the bedroom.
There he places her on the bed, gently, like she's made of glass. She lies there, relaxed, but greedy, a flame in her eyes that tells him she can't wait for the things she knows are coming.
His heartrate picks up and his hands almost tremble as he reaches for the knot that secures her towel, then unwraps her, like she is a carefully wrapped present on Christmas morning, spreading the two flaps of the towel over the bedsheets.
"You are so beautiful," he breathes as he sits back, marveling at her body – the shapely thighs and the toned stomach and the perfect, round breasts with the dark nipples standing at attention in the relative coolness of the room. He can't help it – before she could react to the praise, he dives in, locking his lips around her right nipple, sucking on it, while his hand finds the other breast, kneading it gently, feeling its weight in his palm, making her gasp and writhe under him, squeezing her legs together.
He knows without touching her that she's already wet and aching for him.
He can't help but teasing her a bit longer.
Skye whines when he pulls away, leaving her nipple red and glistening from saliva. He doesn't go far – only reaches for the nightstand, where he knows she keeps a bottle of lotion. He grabs it, squeezes a small amount into his palm – the sweet scent enveloping him right away –, then reaches for her leg, and starts rubbing the lotion into her skin. He continues methodically, switching to her other leg, then to her stomach, massaging her breasts and shoulders and arms as he goes, never touching her where she needs him the most – he has other plans for that –, but he feels her going boneless, all the stress and tension of the day leaving her body under his tender, arousing care.
By the time he finishes with this, she is completely relaxed and high-strung at the same time – her eyelids dropping, but her pupils wide, her body limp, but the scent of her arousal evident in the air.
It's time to make her fly.
With a mischievous smile on his lips, he kneels on the edge of the bed, spreads her legs and places them on his shoulders – there's absolutely no resistance –, then leans in, and presses his lips against her core.
She gasps and jerks and moans, encouraging him to go on.
Much like making love, he wasn't keen on going down on a woman before – he just didn't see the point –, but with Skye, it more than worth it.
Freshly shaved, she's smooth as velvet, hot and wet, her juices salty-sweet on his tongue as he licks and sucks and thrust his tongue deep into her. She lets out a little scream as his teeth graze over her clit, then moans loudly as his tongue starts playing with the little nub.
He just loves how responsive she is – how she grinds her core against his face, moving rhythmically as if she couldn't get close enough to him; how her hand first finds his head, her fingers sliding into his dark hair, before she reaches out, searching for his hand, not giving up until their fingers are interlocked; how she gets louder and louder, moaning and whining and breathing out his name, demanding more.
Soon, he knows that she's close – her body tensing up, her hand holding his mercilessly, her core twitching under his lips. He gives her one last deliberate lick, rubbing her clit with the tip of his tongue before thrusting it into her, and the she breaks, crying out, her spine arching from the bed and walls spasming and her juices erupting into his mouth.
He helps her down from her high with small, gentle, teasing licks, until she lies still again, panting, her skin glistening with sweat, the sweet scent of the post-orgasmic haze enveloping her form.
He pushes himself away from her only then, her juices dripping from his chin – not that he cares. As absurd it is, he is still completely clothed; he starts undressing now, holding her gaze even as he pulls his shirt over his head. Even sated, she looks at him as if she just can't wait, as if her thirst for him, for his body, was insatiable. Her pupils widen and she licks her lips as he pushes his pants and underwear down, freeing his erection, that stands proud and hard, drops of pre-cum already gleaming on the tip of the head.
He looks deep into her eyes as he takes himself into his hand and pumps himself; he doesn't miss as her lips part slightly in desire, nor as she opens her legs for him in an inviting gesture. He needs no more encouragement.
The next moment he's back on her, keeping his weight off her with one hand while he pulls one of her legs over his shoulder, spreading her wide, granting himself better access. The next moment, he is sliding inside her, sliding in deep, without resistance – Skye's so wet and ready and welcoming. She sighs at the loving intrusion, while he moans out loud – no matter how many times she allows him to become one with her, it is always as awe-inspiring as the first time.
He waits a moment, basking in the feeling of her warm, silky wall enveloping him, then starts moving – slowly, deliberately, not rushing towards the end. Being with Skye has taught him to savor the moment, to enjoy the journey, not just the goal. Still, he increases his speed slowly, kissing her knee, her calf, squeezing her breasts, playing with the nipples, then, finally, when he can feel her walls tightening around him, her second orgasm for the night approaching, reaching down and rubbing her clit with his thumb.
When she cries out, her walls clenching then releasing him, he starts to feel the tell-tale tingling in the base of his spine and the tightening in his balls, so he keeps going, hard and fast, helping her orgasm along, lengthening it until she is whining under him – and then he is coming too, stars bursting behind his eyelids, shooting his seed into her, before his mind goes blissfully blank for a moment as pleasure erupts in every cell in his body.
His mind barely functions enough not to collapse on top of her – instead he falls down beside her on the bed, panting, his heart racing, feeling great, cleansed, divine. He pulls her – sweaty, spent, blissed out – close right away, drawing her onto his chest until her head is pillowed just under his chin. He buries his fingers in her tangled locks and presses a kiss against the top of her head, just as she places a soft, open-mouthed kiss on the warm skin on his chest, the wild gallop of their hearts slowing and then beating as one.
He might not have been keen on making love before, he thinks, holding her while she draws nonsensical patterns on his skin, but he sure as hell couldn't imagine doing anything but that with Skye.