Page 58 of Saving Grace

I slide him into my mouth. His hands snap from flat on the tiles, where they were for the past five minutes, to straight into my wet hair. The shower is warm. The drops caress my skin as I stroke him, one hand tight around his base, the other bracing against his thigh. His muscles move, bulky under my splayed-out fingers.

Swirling my tongue over the tip, I pull up, sucking hard.

“Gracie. Gorgeous girl, you’re gonna have to stop.”

I lose him from my mouth with a pop. His hooded eyes drop to my face. Chest heaving, every muscle in his beautiful bodystrained tight, he looks like a god from my place below him on the shower floor. If it wasn’t for the large scar on his hip and the smaller ones dotted over his torso, you’d think he’s Zeus. Or maybe he’s Zeusbecauseof them.

“It’s just fooling around, Mack.”

He huffs a strangled laugh. “Yeah.”

I used to think about this kind of thing, once. Dropping to my knees for a guy. But the shine wears off when you’re at someone’s beck and call with nothing ever received in return. I push the memories from my mind and focus on the man standing in front of me. The good one.

“Can I keep going?” I ask.

“Are you asking for my permission or yours?”

A bit of both.

“Yours.”

“No, Grace, tell me what you want.”

He means this has to be what I desire. Something I get a rush out of as much as he does.

Gathering up a whole lot of bravado and a little sass, I reply, “Come in my mouth, Mackinlay.”

His guttural groan is followed by his hands in my hair. I sink over his cock, taking him in as far as I can. Throbbing blooms to life in my clit. I absolutely get something out of this.

With the last scrap of bravery I have, fueled by the fire that’s now licking my core, I sink my free hand between my legs. I’m soaked. Slick. And not from the warm water pelting down around us. Looking up, I find Mack’s gaze roving my body, snagging on the hand at my center. I take a long, languid pull on his cock, sucking my way over every hard inch and swirling my tongue around the tip before plunging back down. My grip on his base is firm.

Brushing my fingertips over my aching center, I moan around his length.

“Sweet Jesus, Grace.”

I have never been so turned on in my entire life.

I pick up the pace, sucking his shaft, teasing the tip. His legs tremble. One hand slaps back onto the tile to brace against the overwhelming pleasure that looks like it could take him down with any given stroke of my lips.

I sink two fingers into my wet core, moving them in time to the pulls of my mouth. Heat pools in my belly like it did on the bed when his face was buried in my pussy. The next sweep of my thumb over my clit, I explode around my fingers, whimpers cascading from my mouth.

“Fuck . . . Good girl.”

As the sensation flooding my body settles, I lick a long stroke up the length of his cock. His breathing shatters. He’s so close. I pump hard and suck with slow, coaxing movements. His hands, still in my hair, tighten. Salty warmth streams into my mouth. “Fuck, gorgeous girl.”

His eyes are closed, his head tilted back.

Every inch of Mackinlay trembles.

I swallow every last drop he gives me. His legs falter. I grab his hands as he slides down the shower wall to his seat, only somewhat in control of his motions. Dark blue eyes meet mine. Strong arms reach for me. “Come here.”

I crawl onto his lap, and he folds me into his chest.

He drops a kiss into my hair, another to my temple. My heart all but explodes. We sit on the tiled floor, soaking up all the warmth the water and steam allow. His heartbeat drums against my cheek. Mine races along. How is being intimate with Mack so easy? So satisfying?

So . . .addictive.

I glance back up, and his eyes are closed. His breathing slow and even. He’s asleep. Or at least, almost.

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