Page 50
Story: The Friend Zone (Game On 2)
His mouth finds mine, and I’m lost.
That first touch is a sonic blast, sending a wave of heat through me so hard and fast that I lose my breath. I gain it back on a sigh of sheer pleasure. His lips are softer than I’d imagined, firm yet tender. He skims them over the hypersensitive corner of my mouth, finds the plump swell of my lower lip and nuzzles it.
I feel it in my spine, between my legs. And maybe he feels the same because he makes a low, almost growling sound in his throat and kisses me again, firmer this time, demanding more.
“What are we doing?” I whisper between quick, searching kisses that mold my lips. We’re both shaking so hard, it’s enough to make us frantic, uncoordinated, noses and chins bumping as we desperately come at each other again and again.
“I don’t know… Oh, shit, Mac, you taste so good.” His tongue touches mine, a savoring glide of velvet warmth. “Just one more.” He groans, licks into my mouth like he’s lapping up honey. “One more taste.”
Gray leans into me, his broad chest crushed against my breasts, as he ducks his head and kisses me deep. Opening my mouth wide and taking what he needs. He’s shaking, his voice rough when he speaks. “I’ve wanted this… Wanted to taste you for so long. It’s all I think about. Fuck, that’s good. One more, honey. One more.”
My arms wrap around his neck, holding on as he pulls back, comes at me from another angle, over and over. He’s making a study of my mouth, discovering every inch of it. And it gets me so hot, I’m panting, my skin drawing tight. “Once isn’t going to be enough.”
Gray shudders, his grip clenching on my nape. “You’re right. Don’t stop. Give me your mouth, honey.” He suckles my bottom lip, licks along my upper lip. “Let me take care of you for a while.”
His kisses turn messy, opening me wide enough that I feel the stretch in my jaw. My mouth is being fucked by his tongue. Raw and raunchy and so good that I moan, close my eyes and fuck him back like I’ll die if we stop. I just might.
Gray’s big body shifts as if he can’t keep still. With a noise of impatience, he pushes his thick thigh against my sex, nudging the sensitive flesh there. And I groan, my legs clamping down on the muscled length. The hard throb of his erection is at my hip, demanding my attention. “Gray. What are we doing?” I’m seconds away from begging him to fuck me hard and fast against the mattress.
His hand slides down my back, drawing me closer. “Don’t think,” he says, not leaving my mouth. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have to matter.”
It takes a second for his words to sink in. And then they do. Realization surges like an ice-cold wave, stealing my breath and making the walls of my chest clench. We’re just fooling around. At least in Gray’s eyes. And I thought…
Another wave hits me, this one hot with humiliation. I’m emotionally invested. Completely.
So stupid. Especially since Gray has flat-out told me that sex is just sex to him. I know he cares about me. But that what we’re doing doesn’t matter to him in the same way it does to me makes my insides roll.
He doesn’t notice I’ve gone still. Almost roughly, he palms my ass as he kisses a path along my jaw. “Mmm… So good. Why did we wait so long to do this?”
Yes, why? When we could have been friends with benefits all along, have a quick fuck whenever the mood struck us?
I can’t breathe. I need to breathe. His big body pressed against mine is no longer a comfort but a weight I can’t bear. My stomach lurches. “I think I’m going to throw up.”
It’s enough to make him pause and lift his head in shock.
Wrenching free, I scramble from the bed and sprint to the bathroom just as Gray calls out to me.
Ignoring him, I slam the door behind me and lock myself in the safety of the bathroom a second before Gray catches up to me. A thud vibrates the door as if he’s bumped into it, and I hear his muffled curse.
“Ivy.” His voice is urgent. Worried. “Ivy, what—”
“I’m okay,” I practically shout. I’m not. Nausea has me panting and my face is too hot. I lean against the door, pressing my cheek to the cool wood. I want to sink down and curl up into a ball.
God, I’m so stupid. So weak, letting sex cloud my judgment. I can’t do casual. My heart is already invested.
Gray’s voice is so close I know he’s leaning against the door too. “Talk to me, Mac. Please. You’re kind of freaking me out here.”
My eyes close. What do I say? I don’t even know what to think right now. Only that his words are spinning in my head. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have to matter. The slickness between my legs and the residual tenderness from my orgasm has me shuddering and pressing my thighs together as if I can blot out what he’d done to me and how perfect it had felt.
Gray speaks again. “Ivy, honey, I know that was unexpected.” He gives a wry laugh. “And not exactly within the bounds of friendship, but—”
“Stop,” I blurt out, panic and regret surging once more. “Just please stop talking.”
I can’t stand hearing him say those words again, that the best feeling of my life didn’t matter to him the way it mattered to me. I’ll scream.
“All right,” he says slowly. Another scratch against the door has me wondering if he’s put his hand to it. “But can you come out? I need to see that you’re okay.”
I hate the worry in his voice. Because it means he knows I’m way more affected by this than he is. It grates. And there is no fucking way I’m facing him right now.
That first touch is a sonic blast, sending a wave of heat through me so hard and fast that I lose my breath. I gain it back on a sigh of sheer pleasure. His lips are softer than I’d imagined, firm yet tender. He skims them over the hypersensitive corner of my mouth, finds the plump swell of my lower lip and nuzzles it.
I feel it in my spine, between my legs. And maybe he feels the same because he makes a low, almost growling sound in his throat and kisses me again, firmer this time, demanding more.
“What are we doing?” I whisper between quick, searching kisses that mold my lips. We’re both shaking so hard, it’s enough to make us frantic, uncoordinated, noses and chins bumping as we desperately come at each other again and again.
“I don’t know… Oh, shit, Mac, you taste so good.” His tongue touches mine, a savoring glide of velvet warmth. “Just one more.” He groans, licks into my mouth like he’s lapping up honey. “One more taste.”
Gray leans into me, his broad chest crushed against my breasts, as he ducks his head and kisses me deep. Opening my mouth wide and taking what he needs. He’s shaking, his voice rough when he speaks. “I’ve wanted this… Wanted to taste you for so long. It’s all I think about. Fuck, that’s good. One more, honey. One more.”
My arms wrap around his neck, holding on as he pulls back, comes at me from another angle, over and over. He’s making a study of my mouth, discovering every inch of it. And it gets me so hot, I’m panting, my skin drawing tight. “Once isn’t going to be enough.”
Gray shudders, his grip clenching on my nape. “You’re right. Don’t stop. Give me your mouth, honey.” He suckles my bottom lip, licks along my upper lip. “Let me take care of you for a while.”
His kisses turn messy, opening me wide enough that I feel the stretch in my jaw. My mouth is being fucked by his tongue. Raw and raunchy and so good that I moan, close my eyes and fuck him back like I’ll die if we stop. I just might.
Gray’s big body shifts as if he can’t keep still. With a noise of impatience, he pushes his thick thigh against my sex, nudging the sensitive flesh there. And I groan, my legs clamping down on the muscled length. The hard throb of his erection is at my hip, demanding my attention. “Gray. What are we doing?” I’m seconds away from begging him to fuck me hard and fast against the mattress.
His hand slides down my back, drawing me closer. “Don’t think,” he says, not leaving my mouth. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have to matter.”
It takes a second for his words to sink in. And then they do. Realization surges like an ice-cold wave, stealing my breath and making the walls of my chest clench. We’re just fooling around. At least in Gray’s eyes. And I thought…
Another wave hits me, this one hot with humiliation. I’m emotionally invested. Completely.
So stupid. Especially since Gray has flat-out told me that sex is just sex to him. I know he cares about me. But that what we’re doing doesn’t matter to him in the same way it does to me makes my insides roll.
He doesn’t notice I’ve gone still. Almost roughly, he palms my ass as he kisses a path along my jaw. “Mmm… So good. Why did we wait so long to do this?”
Yes, why? When we could have been friends with benefits all along, have a quick fuck whenever the mood struck us?
I can’t breathe. I need to breathe. His big body pressed against mine is no longer a comfort but a weight I can’t bear. My stomach lurches. “I think I’m going to throw up.”
It’s enough to make him pause and lift his head in shock.
Wrenching free, I scramble from the bed and sprint to the bathroom just as Gray calls out to me.
Ignoring him, I slam the door behind me and lock myself in the safety of the bathroom a second before Gray catches up to me. A thud vibrates the door as if he’s bumped into it, and I hear his muffled curse.
“Ivy.” His voice is urgent. Worried. “Ivy, what—”
“I’m okay,” I practically shout. I’m not. Nausea has me panting and my face is too hot. I lean against the door, pressing my cheek to the cool wood. I want to sink down and curl up into a ball.
God, I’m so stupid. So weak, letting sex cloud my judgment. I can’t do casual. My heart is already invested.
Gray’s voice is so close I know he’s leaning against the door too. “Talk to me, Mac. Please. You’re kind of freaking me out here.”
My eyes close. What do I say? I don’t even know what to think right now. Only that his words are spinning in my head. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have to matter. The slickness between my legs and the residual tenderness from my orgasm has me shuddering and pressing my thighs together as if I can blot out what he’d done to me and how perfect it had felt.
Gray speaks again. “Ivy, honey, I know that was unexpected.” He gives a wry laugh. “And not exactly within the bounds of friendship, but—”
“Stop,” I blurt out, panic and regret surging once more. “Just please stop talking.”
I can’t stand hearing him say those words again, that the best feeling of my life didn’t matter to him the way it mattered to me. I’ll scream.
“All right,” he says slowly. Another scratch against the door has me wondering if he’s put his hand to it. “But can you come out? I need to see that you’re okay.”
I hate the worry in his voice. Because it means he knows I’m way more affected by this than he is. It grates. And there is no fucking way I’m facing him right now.
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