Grayson
I’ve been staring at the TV for who knows how long.
I’m barely paying attention. I keep looking at the screen in front of me, mindlessly watching whatever show is on. I don’t even know the name or what is happening, and I can’t think of anything other than Rosalie.
The look on her face when I gave her the flowers was the purest thing I have ever witnessed. The pure joy and happiness on her face made my chest tense. I want nothing more than to keep seeing that smile on her face.
I also wouldn’t mind seeing her flushed and aroused again. The way she couldn’t even look at me when I gave her the vibrator plays in my mind in a loop. Her flushed skin, the twitch of her lips, her eyes widening at the realization that I bought her a sex toy.
She admitted she’d never touched herself before, which probably meant she didn’t know how to, so I figured a toy would help. I hope it did. I can think of nothing else but images of Rosie laying on her bed, naked with the small pink toy between her legs as she brings herself to orgasm.
Fuck. I groan, tipping my head back and closing my eyes. I want to see her so badly. I saw her just yesterday; I shouldn’t be feeling like this. And these visits shouldn’t be a common thing. No more than three times a week. That was the deal I made with myself.
Especially with someone like Rosie, who’s new to this whole thing. Sex and intimacy, it could be so easy for her to mix the lines.
My phone rings on the nightstand, and I widen my eyes. Is she calling me? Does she want me to come over? I grab my phone, and my shoulders slump when I see the name on the screen.
I’ve been avoiding her for weeks. If I don’t pick up, who knows what will happen to the money I need? She could withhold it from me and back out of our deal. I need to answer her.
I press the green button and silently curse at myself for answering, but I need to get it over with. “Hey, Mom.”
“Grayson,” she breathes out. “My goodness. I thought you were dead.”
I snicker. “Not yet.”
She gasps on the other side. “Don’t joke about that.”
“Who’s joking?”
“Grayson. I’m serious. You haven’t answered my calls in weeks. Weeks. Do you know how worried I was wondering if you were lying in a ditch somewhere with a needle in your arm?”
My jaw clenches. “I told you a million times before, I don’t do that.”
She sighs on the other end. I know she doesn’t believe me. No matter how many times I tell her, she will never believe me, and they will never trust me again. “Grayson, why didn’t you answer? Where have you been?”
“I’ve been right here in college, where you and dad forced me to attend, remember?”
“It’s for your own good,” she says after a minute. “You didn’t want to go, and school is good for you. You need to be disciplined and reformed. We obviously did something wrong.”
I groan. I don’t need to be reformed because I’m not a fucking drug addict, but she never listens. I think the sight from that day will always haunt her, but it haunts me even more. I can never get the image out of my head as hard as I try.
The only time it seems to settle is around Rosie, and I don’t even want to think about why that is. Maybe because the whole time I’m with her, we’re trying to get through her issues, making me forget about mine, at least for a while.
“We want to see you,” she says. “I’ll pay for the flight, just… Please, son, come see us.”
“What about dad? Does he want to see me?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
She sighs. “You know how he is, Grayson.”
I laugh bitterly. Yeah, I know how he is. He’s a pain in the ass who wishes I was never born. He hates me. I have no idea why, but the old man and I have never bonded before.
“Why should I come home when he can’t stand to look at me?” I ask.
“Because he loves you, Grayson. We both do.”
I roll my eyes. “No, he doesn’t, mom.”
“Your father… it’s complicated, Grayson. Especially after what happened—” she says, making me flinch a little.
“So, you’re saying it’s my own fault that my father doesn’t love me?” I ask in disbelief. I don’t know why she’s defending him so much. If only she knew that her sweet husband screws his assistants every day. If she only knew how many times the son of a bitch has cheated on her, then maybe she’d be on my side and see what a prick he really is.
“That’s not what I said,” she says, trying to backtrack on the fact she just told me I’m unworthy of my parents’ love because of a mistake.
“That’s exactly what you said.”
“Grayson—” she starts, but I cut her off.
“What more do you want from me?” I ask. “I’m going to college, I’m keeping my grades up, and I’m staying out of trouble, just like you wanted.”
She doesn’t speak and doesn’t make a sound. We just sit in silence. My words flowing between us. I know no matter what I do, they will never trust me and will always see me as a screw-up. Maybe I am. However, one mistake shouldn’t dictate whether I need to earn my parent’s love or admiration
“Come home,” she finally says.
I scoff. “New York is the last place I want to go.”
“Grayson, please.” Her voice is low and pleading. I can imagine her frowning on the other end. “I want to see my son. We’ll talk more about this when you come home. Just one weekend. We’ll have a family dinner.”
I can’t even remember a time when we had a family dinner. Family dinner in my house consisted of my father staying long nights in his office and my mother eating alone. I’d grab some fast food and eat in my car.
And now she wants a family dinner. Spare me the theatrics of pretending we’re a happy family. It’s nothing but lies. “Fine,” I agree.
“I love you, Grayson,” she says. “You know that.”
I sigh. “Yeah. I guess.” I hang up the phone and tip my head back onto the headboard.
I love her too. I think. In the unconditional way, as in she’s family. As in, if anything happened to her, I’d be heartbroken. She’s my mother, so of course, I love her. But that doesn’t compare to romantic love, which I know is bullshit.
There is no way you can love someone with everything you have and have it be the same unconditional love you would have for family. You can’t love someone and then sleep with the first girl you see on the street. That isn’t possible.
I just agreed to spend a weekend with my parents. I have no idea what I’ll be walking into or what this dinner even consists of. Will it be just my parents grilling me again? Looking at me like I’m a crazy, deranged person for the worst mistake I’ve ever made in my life? I can’t deal with that again.
Fuck, I need a smoke. I reach for my nightstand for the pack of cigarettes… which isn’t there. Jesus Christ, I don’t have any cigarettes. Because I quit smoking. Who am I?
I can’t believe I quit smoking. At the moment, it was the only option. The only answer, the right answer. But now, I have no idea what I was thinking. I need the chemicals to do their job and calm me the fuck down.
I really need a smoke, but I guess that’s out of the question now. The way she looked when she kissed me hit me in the stomach like a ton of bricks. I want to kiss the living daylights out of her every time I see her, and that won’t be possible if I taste of smoke. I don’t ever want to see that look of disgust on her face again.
And right now, I need to see her. I need to kiss her again. I need to be with her. I can’t take my parents’ bullshit anymore. At this moment, the only thing that I want is to be around her.
I lift off my bed and grab the keys from the top of my dresser and head out of the door.
Ten minutes later, I’m standing outside her door. I should have called first. What if she’s not home, what if she’s out, or what if she’s sleeping? It’s only nine, but what if she’s the type of girl who sleeps really early?
I can’t go back now. I’m here, and I want to see her. I lift my hand and knock on her door, staring back at the grey door, and a minute later, she opens it.
My eyes drift down her body, seeing her pajamas plastered to her body, making me groan. Little blue silk shorts hang from her hips, and a sliver of her stomach pokes out between the shorts and the matching silk tank top. Her nipples are visible beneath the fabric, and I have to swallow. My mouth is so dry at the sight of her.
Her blonde hair is pinned up in a bun, and her face is fresh, without an ounce of makeup. She doesn’t normally wear that much makeup, anyway. Just the subtle pink cheeks and rosy lips. But without any makeup, I can see the little mole on her upper lip.
I want to kiss that mole. It’s so beautiful. She’s so beautiful. Christ.
If she’s wearing pajamas, she must have been getting ready for bed. “Were you sleeping?” I ask.
She shakes her head, opening the door for me to come in. “No, I was watching a movie.” I nod and step into the apartment. I didn’t really pay attention to her apartment last time I was here. I was more focused on trying to get the drunk girl in my arms tucked into bed.
Jesus, this girl is loaded. I mean, who am I to talk, but seriously? Her couch is expensive as fuck. My mother has that same couch sitting in our living room, and this chick happens to have a ten-thousand-dollar couch in her off-campus apartment.
I snicker at the sight, scanning around the place. It’s a one-bedroom, so not as big as my and Aiden’s place. But she has a big ass kitchen, no island but a shit ton of counters. White, of course. Everything about her screams neat and clean.
I see the flowers I gave her in a crystal vase that must have cost a shit ton of money. A smile creeps up on my face. I can’t help but think of the look on her face when I gave her the flowers. I love being the cause of those smiles and the way her cheeks get red. I love it all.
“You want to eat?” she asks behind me.
Yes. I want to eat you.
I turn to face her, and she’s leaning against the back of the couch, watching me. “I just made some pasta, and there’s a ton left over that I was going to eat tomorrow, but you can have it if you want.”
I smirk. “You cook?” I can’t think of this girl in the kitchen. She’s rich. I know she comes from the type of family that hires maids to do everything. She wouldn’t need to get her pretty little hands dirty.
She nods. “Martin, our cook, taught me. I’m not a Michelin star chef or anything, but I know the basics.”
I do nothing but grin as I stare at her. I want to hear more about her life. I want to hear everything that this girl is willing to tell me. But I also want to shut her up with a hot kiss.
I stalk towards her, taking small step after small step to reach her. I’m so close to her, I tower over her, looking down at that angelic face.
“So, are you hungr—”
A yelp escapes her pouty pink lips when I interrupt her with a hard kiss. I press my mouth against hers, grabbing her face to keep her connected to me. The minute our lips meet, it’s like a relief. My shoulders relax, and I melt into her. She wraps her arms around my neck and opens her mouth, inviting me in.
I suck on her tongue, and she moans into the kiss, and then, she copies my moves, sucking on my tongue until I groan. She’s a quick learner.
“I’ll take that as a no,” she says, as she takes a minute to breathe, and she grins at me.
I shake my head. “I’m starving, angel,” I tell her. “But for something other than pasta.”
I see her grin for a second before I press our lips together again. I kiss her as we walk toward her bedroom. We’re a mess of limbs and clothes as we step toward her bed. She reaches up and unravels her hair, letting it flow behind her back. She stumbles backward until she’s sitting on the bed, and I’m standing above her, bending so that our lips remain connected.
I leave one soft kiss on that sexy mole on her upper lip and then pull back to push her onto the bed until she’s on her back. I’m stretched out on top of her seconds later, and I hover on my elbows so that I don’t crush her with my weight. My tongue is in her mouth again, sucking and licking and tasting her sweetness.
I grind my hips against hers. Between the roughness of my jeans and the thin silk of her shorts, she feels my erection pressing into her, providing the friction she needs right now. I thrust my hips again, and she gasps into my mouth when I press against her. She bucks her hips up, and her hands detach from my neck and make their way down to my belt.
My eyes snap open, and I pull back. “I’m not going to fuck you,” I tell her.
She frowns. “You’re not?”
I shake my head. “No, Rosie. Not tonight.” I drag my finger from her chin down the center of her breasts. “I just want to play with you for a bit.”
She’ll take any pleasure I’m willing to give her, I’ve gathered. Her breathing becomes fast and shallow as her eyes fill with lust and desire. “Okay,” she breathes out.
My mouth latches on to her nipples, sucking them through the fabric until the soft blue silk becomes wet, and I can see the print of her hardened tight nipples. I need it off. I pull the tank up and away from her body.
Jesus, those tits. She’s on the smaller side but still a handful. I do nothing. I don’t touch or lick. I just stare. Her nipples are so pink and small. They’re so cute, just like she is.
She tries to cover herself up with her arm, and I pull it away from her body. “Don’t be shy in front of me, angel,” I tell her. “You’re perfect.” Pink tints her supple cheeks as she lets me feast on her with my eyes.
The last time at the lake, it was so quick, so rushed, I didn’t have time to appreciate her fully. But this time, I’m taking my fill.
My hands reach for her shorts, and her breath hitches. I watch her for a minute to see if she’s okay with this, and she lets out a breath. I pull them down her legs and almost choke at the sight of her pussy.
She must see the shocked reaction I have because she tentatively presses her legs together. “It’s bad to sleep in underwear,” she says.
I grin. “I second that.” I wouldn’t mind sleeping next to her, knowing she’s bare under her shorts.
I look at the spot between her legs. I can see her soft blonde hair poking out through her legs that are clamped closed. I’m dying to see what she looks like.
“Did you touch yourself?” I ask her, wanting to know if she used my little gift to get herself off.
She nods.
I grin, loving the idea of her using something I bought to pleasure herself.
“What did you think of?” I whisper.
She swallows. I see her throat bob up and down before she answers. “You,” she rasps out.
Fuck. I can’t contain the groan that I let out, knowing I was in her dirty fantasy. I have all kinds of images running in my mind, but I want to see for myself.
I pick myself off the bed and head towards the nightstand. She lifts herself onto her elbows, watching me as I move around in her bedroom. I open her nightstand and smirk when I find the little pink toy sitting inside.
I head to the foot of the bed, where she’s lying naked and waiting for me, and I stretch my arm out to hand her the toy. “Show me,” I say.
Her eyes widen. “What?”
“Let me see you, Rosie. I want you to show me how you got yourself off.”
She swallows again, and then her tongue darts out to lick her lips. “In front of you?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“But.” She falters, covering up her chest again with her arms. “That’s private.”
Jesus, this girl. I smile. “I had my hand on your pussy and my mouth on your tits, angel. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I want to see it. I want to see you.” I say, holding out the toy for her to grab it.
She reaches out and clutches the toy in her small hand, and I grin. I take a seat on the small, pink couch that she has in her bedroom, which just so happens to face the bed. I stretch my arms over the back of it as I lean back and get ready for the show.
She licks her lips again, still covering her body. I want to see all of her.
“Spread your legs, angel. I want to see.” My voice is like gravel, consumed by lust. I’m dying over here, waiting for her to show me all of her.
She leans back on her elbows, making her tits the center of attention. She stares at me for a while, breathing in and out, before she parts her legs.
Oh, sweet Jesus. She spreads her legs apart, making her pussy completely visible to me. She’s so pretty, pink, and glistening wet. She’s drenched with her arousal, and she hasn’t even started touching herself yet. The soft blonde curls cover her pussy, but when her legs are spread like this, I can see her wet, pink center.
I clear my throat, feeling my cock harden in my jeans even more than it was before. It hurts. It aches so badly, and I’m the only one to blame for my slow torture. But the sight of her naked and spread out for me has me wanting to forget about me and focus on her.
She brings the toy to her center, pressing it against her clit. She must have figured it out yesterday because, from where I’m sitting, she has no problem finding the sweet spot that makes her whimper. A sound so heavenly. I’ve become jealous of a toy for bringing those sounds out of her when it could be me.
“Jesus, that pussy is pretty.” I husk out, earning a soft moan from her. I place my hand on my crotch, feeling my dick threatening to rip through my jeans. I give it a slow stroke, trying to ease the ache. “You’re doing so good, Rosie.”
She closes her eyes and continues pleasuring herself. The sound of the vibrator and her quiet moans fill the room. I’m breathless and painfully hard. This was a bad idea, sitting here torturing myself while I watch her. I need to touch her, to taste her, to be consumed by her.
I can’t sit here and watch this any longer. The more I watch her arch her back and use her finger to toy with her nipples, the harder I get and the more desperate for her I get.
I fall to my knees. She literally has me on my knees, crawling to where she’s dangling off the foot of the bed.
I run my hand up her thigh, gripping her supple skin, staring at the glorious sight in front of me. “Can I taste?” I whisper, almost like I don’t want to break this moment. I’m right in front of her sweet pussy, so pretty and wet for me. “Just one taste,” I whisper again and then look up to gauge Rosalie’s reaction.
She keeps the vibrator on her clit, but her eyes are now open and hazy. “Yes.” She nods. “Please.”
That’s all that I need. I dip my head, leaving a soft kiss on her thigh. Her hand is still between her legs, so instead, I tease her, licking and biting the soft skin of her thigh, dragging my tongue up until I reach her pussy. I dive in, flattening my tongue against her. My mouth is covered in her. She’s so fucking wet that I could drown in her. She stops the vibrator and falls onto her back, giving in to the pleasure I’m giving her.
She tastes delicious. If I died right now, I’d die a happy man. I feast on her, licking and sucking and feeling her shiver under me. She’s panting and crying out, her moans so sweet and gentle even when she’s on the brink of an orgasm.
I lick her up, drinking up all of her wetness. Her thighs are coated in it, my mouth and face are coated in it, and I still want more. I don’t want this to end, but she’s close. I can feel it in the way she bucks her hips and twists her head from side to side as her moans get louder and louder.
Unfortunately for me, she’s right there. Her back arches, and she stills, shaking as she comes all over my tongue. Fuck, I might actually die tonight.
When she finally comes down from her orgasm, and her breathing slows down, she jumps up onto her knees and wraps her arms around my neck. “Oh my god,” she gasps. “You’re so good at that!”
Fuck, if that doesn’t make my dick press even harder into my jeans. “Yeah?”
Instead of replying, she kisses me, sticking her tongue in my mouth and kissing me hard and fast. When she pulls back, she’s grinning from ear to ear. “Can we do it again?” she asks.
I laugh. She has no idea how much I want to do that again. And again and again, until she’s a panting mess, unable to speak, begging me to stop. “Anytime,” I say.
