Page 98 of The Illicit Play

He’s so good. He’s so, so, soooooo good.

I ride the wave of pleasure, still pumping him, my insides clenching around his dick and causing sounds to shoot out of him. Sounds that make me feel like a goddess. Sounds that warn me he’ll be firing off any second now.

“Do you want me to…” He puffs. “Pull…” He groans. “Out?”

“No way,” I quickly tell him, squeezing my breasts as I bounce on top of him.

His arms thread around me as he presses his lips into my back and lets out this guttural groan. I reach for his hands, guiding them to my boobs, and enjoy his squeezes as he holds on and rides to the end.

His grip on me tightens just before he lets out another grunt, then breathes a low, uncontrolled moan across my skin.

I can feel him coming inside me, and I match his noises with another keening wail that hopefully tells him just how amazing this feels.

He clings to me, his arms trembling just a little as heslowly floats back to earth. His energy swirls around me. It’s like he’s high and unable to do anything but hold me until his body comes back online. I get it. I think I’m high too. High on dopamine and oxytocin.

Oh my fucking life, this is incredible.

My heart is still galloping like a spooked horse, and I’m pretty sure I’ll never be able to walk again, but seriously… walking is so overrated, right?

This unchecked giggle rumbles inside me, rising up my throat and popping out into the air.

Finally recovered, Grady sags back down behind me with a heavy sigh. His hands slip off my boobs, and I feel instantly bereft of his hold on me.

Looking back over my shoulder, I smile at him, about to turn around and snuggle against him when I notice his expression.

He’s looking kind of dark, staring at the side of the tent, his lips turning into a frown.

“What?” I whisper.

His jaw clenches as his expression crumples with what I think might be shame.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters.

He almost looks sick, and now I feel like total shit.

Anger spikes first—irritation that he’s wanting to ruin this perfectly mind-blowing encounter—but then it’s followed by a searing disappointment.

I want him to be celebrating with me, snuggling against me, securing me in his embrace and brushing his lips across my forehead.

But instead, he can’t even look at me.

It hurts, bruises, maims.

And I don’t know how to react.

All I can think to do is rise off him, ignoring the juices flowing down my leg as I scramble out of the tent fully naked and murder the soles of my feet as I head back to the freezing-cold lake to wash myself off.

CHAPTER 31

GRADY

Shit.

“Blake.” I lamely call her name, but she doesn’t stop.

I watch her lily-white ass crawl out of the tent, then drop my head back on the hard ground.

“Ouch,” I grit out, rubbing the back of my scalp but knowing I deserve the pain.