As clouded as my brain is by arousal, I try to focus in on everything. The way her breathing hitches when I push forward the tiniest bit. The pulse I can feel rioting in her throat when I press my mouth there. The way her tight channel grips me as I rock forward again—deeper this time.
Gracie groans, her discomfort mixed with pleasure. I slow down, kissing her deeply as I let her body adjust to the brand new invasion.
Even slick and soft with arousal, she's still tight as hell. I slip in millimeter by millimeter, stopping whenever she stiffens or squeaks. When I feel her begin to relax and accept me, I thrust further in and bite back a groan. No one has ever felt this good before. Our moans mix in the pheromone-heavy air and our heartbeats slam together.
When I finally bottom out, I look up at her—she's panting, eyes heavy-lidded, skin damp with sweat—and ask, “You okay? Want to stay like this for a little while?”
Her heels dig into the small of my back. “Just...keep moving...”
Slowly I pull out, and then ease back in again. “You're doing so good, baby,” I murmur into her silky hair. It smells like lavender shampoo. “I know you can take me. We'll do it together.”
She rocks her hips sharply and I take my cue to speed up. She makes little needy noises that shoot straight to my cock. I shift my angle, looking for her G-spot, and know I've found it when she gives a loud, guttural moan. I pull her hips to meet mine with every thrust, showing her how much better it feels when she moves, too. She immediately catches on.
“Your * feels so good around me,” I grunt.
Leaving one hand on her hip to guide her, I rub her clit with my thumb. She cries out again, ragged and desperate. Her beautiful sapphire eyes are wild with desire. Lost in them, I can't look away, can't do anything but push her higher into pleasure.
Her body tenses and shakes. Her nails dig into my back. Finally she cries, “Oh...oh, don't stop, Hudson...” Her * clamps down on my cock, pulsing with the waves of her orgasm. I groan and let myself fall over the edge with her.
Still inside her, I take a moment to catch my breath, resting above her on my elbows. She cranes her neck to kiss me: chaste, unhurried, affectionate, so different from the desperate passion of a few minutes ago. I return her soft kisses, enjoying the calm after the storm.
Her giggle is a subtle hum against my lips. “I did it,” she says. “Virginity no more.”
“Shall I alert the media?” I chuckle, and get a little bite on the chin for my teasing.
Half of me is already planning how to make our next date even better. The other half is still savoring this moment with Gracie, enveloped in her warmth, her exhausted satisfaction. Face to face.
Chapter Seven
Gracie
“Can you hand me that stack of copies?” Brandon asks.
I limp over to the copy machine and grab the stack of papers, thrusting them into my coworker’s hand before easing myself gently back down into the office chair.
“What’s wrong with you? Hurt yourself over the weekend?” he asks, watching me carefully.
“What? No.” Shit. Was I being that obvious? “It’s just the heels I’m wearing today,” I lie as coolly as I can. “I’m still breaking them in.” At least that part is true.
I’m pleasantly sore between my thighs. Nothing a little Tylenol can’t handle. But geez, how embarrassing. Crossing my legs, I concentrate on the pile of work in front of me, unable to keep a smile off my lips. I’ve been daydreaming about Hudson all morning and my brain feels like mush.
Focus, Gracie. I leaf through the design workbook for the commercial remodel we’re working on. Brandon’s the project leader, only a couple of years older than me; it gives me hope that with hard work and some luck on my side, I’ll be running my own projects in a few years.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and my lips curl into a smile. Hudson spent all morning and half the night sending me sweet messages. I read them all about twenty times. The first one, sent only hours after I left his place, was to check on me and see how I was feeling. At the time, I was still floating on cloud nine and didn’t even realize how sore I was. How my panties clung to my sensitive skin, or how my hips bore the markings of his fingertips.
I look down at a new text from him.
Hudson: How’s your day so far?
I chuckle to myself. Melanie was right about feeling a deeper connection to him after sex, but he also seems to be more connected to me, too. For all the years Hudson’s had my phone number for emergencies or whatever, he’s never texted me. Now he can’t seem to stop himself. Not that I’m complaining. I would've died of curiosity wondering what he was thinking about—specifically, whether or not he was still thinking of me after our night together.
Gracie: I’m feeling okay. Last night was kind of crazy.
Hudson: I had fun. His response arrives almost instantly.