Page 94 of Unrivaled

My abs tighten, my breath sucking in as she moves lower, her fingers sifting through the fine hair over my belly button that leads to my waistband.

With a wicked smile on her lips, she hooks her fingers into my joggers and slides them down. Following their path, she sinks to her knees, and my cock jumps when her breath fans over the tip.

Oh fuuuuck.

I think this just might be the best day of my life.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Tiffany

Gray’s soft groan tells me how much he’s loving this sweet version of torture. When I slide my hands up his thighs, he sighs. I take my time touching him, watching him, enjoying the feel of firm muscle under skin covered by soft, dark hair.

He’s impossibly sexy with his defined chest and abs, trim hips, that V—god, that V—and these powerful thighs. His ass is a sight to behold as well, but I can’t see it at the moment. Somehow I feel like making him turn around would be weird, so I don’t. Not now, anyway.

Instead, I bring my focus to the proud, hard length that keeps twitching with anticipation if I even so much as breathe on it.

Sliding my hands back up his thighs, I cup his balls with one hand, eliciting another moan, and circle his dick with my other hand. I rub my thumb along the vein on the underside, enjoying the surge of blood I feel there as he grows even harder in my hand. A bead of precum leaks from the tip, and I lick it off, a salty, tasty treat just for me.

I’ve given blowjobs before to other guys, but I’ve never enjoyed them as much as I have with Gray. With other guys it was something expected or a kind of transaction—you go down on me, I go down on you—but with Gray it’s so much better. He clearly loves it, but doesn’t feel entitled to it. And it’s that lack of entitlement that makes it such a turn on. That plus the fact that he’s letting me take my time and look and feel and touch as much as I want without demanding that I hurry up and get on with it, though his body language makes it abundantly clear that he would like it if I did.

Lifting his cock, I trace my tongue along the underside. His thighs tremble and his balls tighten in my hand just from that. Oh dear. I’m going to have to go slow unless I want him to finish in my mouth. And while I have no doubt he’d make sure I got off too, I think we both want him inside me before he blows.

I make another pass with my tongue before opening my mouth and sucking the crown inside, swirling my tongue over it as well.

He hisses, and his hand cups my cheek. No grabbing, no hair pulling, just a gentle touch designed to communicate appreciation and affection—no, love.

He loves me. He said so. And I love him. And I want to take my time and show him just how much.

I give him the most leisurely blow job I can manage, enjoying his hot, heavy length on my tongue, the way it feels moving between my lips. The entire experience is an exercise in sensuality.

At last, with a groan, he reaches for me. “Please, Tiff. You’re killing me. I can’t take any more. I need to taste you.”

What woman in her right mind could say no to that?

I let him pull me to my feet as he kicks his pants the rest of the way off, raising my arms for him when he lifts my shirt. When I reach behind me to unhook my bra, he gives me a look of censure that has me grinning and dropping my hands.

“This is my job,” he grumbles as he undoes my bra and pulls it from my body, his eyes immediately going to my boobs.

He’s a boob man to the core. I’d find it kinda funny, except he’s so intent and so worshipful, that instead of being funny, it tips the line into feeling somehow sacred. LikeIam something sacred and beautiful that should be adored, and he is both supplicant and priest.

He bends to give each nipple an open mouth kiss, and when he straightens, he rubs his thumbs over them, making my already hard nipples even harder. And then he smiles at his handiwork, his eyes flicking to mine before he pushes my leggings down my thighs. With one hand on my sternum, he gives me a gentle shove so I fall back on the bed, where he makes quick work of removing the rest of my clothes.

Kneeling before me, he places my legs over his shoulders. I prop myself up on my elbows, needing to watch this. With his eyes locked on mine, he nuzzles his way up my thighs to my center, rubbing his face all over me before spreading me open with his thumbs.

“So pretty and pink,” he murmurs, more like he’s talking to himself, and then he licks me from opening to clit with the flat of his tongue.

It’s electric after so much teasing, and my whole body jolts.

Lifting his head, he meets my eyes with a shameless grin. Then he does the same thing again.

I relax into the feeling of his mouth on me, surrendering to the fact that he’s giving me the same treatment I gave him—slow, leisurely oral focused more on sensation than any specific goal.

And if the sounds he’s making are anything to go by, I think he’s enjoying this as much as I am.

At a certain point, and I’m not sure what causes the change, he goes from leisurely and sensual to more focused, using the point of his tongue and paying more attention to my clit. When he slides two fingers inside me, I instinctively tighten on them, and he grunts his encouragement. “Yeah, that’s it. Let me feel that hot little pussy squeeze my fingers. Pretty soon they’re gonna squeeze like that around my cock.”

His words combined with the overload of sensation has me scrabbling on the bed for purchase. First I’m grabbing my own hair, cursing as he pumps his fingers in and out of me, curling them up to find that spot deep inside that never fails to send me over the edge, and then I’m hanging onto the blankets like they’ll keep me anchored to the earth when all he’s trying to do is send me into the stratosphere.

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