Page 67 of The Boyfriend Boycott
“Justify it,” I say. It’s an obvious one, but I’m waiting expectantly for Grady’s explanation. His eyes flick up to mine and hold my stare.
“Wet,” he starts, as if he’s about to spell it for a spelling bee. “As in … I hope you’re already wet for me.”His voice rumbles through me, and if I wasn’t wet before, then I sure as hell am now. I swallow hard.
“You have to take something else off,” I say, eagerly awaiting his next move. I chew my lip, and my knee bounces. I’m impatient. Watching Grady take his clothes off may just be my favourite sport.
“I have to beat forty-four points, so I may as well just strip naked now.”
I twirl the end of a lock of hair around my finger.
“I wouldn’t complain,” I say.
“Well then let’s just declare you the winner, Rebel.” Grady’s mouth lifts at the corner as he swipes the letters off the board, and they get lost in the blankets. He’s pinning me with his gaze as he crosses the short distance between us on his knees.
“What’s my prize?” I ask, using every ounce of self-control not to jump Grady right now. I love this part with us, the anticipation, the tension. It’s exhilarating in a way that doesn’t feel scary. It’s fun without feeling like we’re playing mind games with each other.
“Whatever you want it to be,” Grady says, his lips just grazing mine. His eyes flick down to my mouth, and before I can say anything, his lips have captured me in a kiss so intoxicating I let out an uncontrollable moan as I lose myself to it.
Grady tastes so fucking good. So fucking good that I think no matter how long I get to kiss him, no matter how many times he kisses me, it will never be enough.
His lips move from my mouth down to my jaw, to my neck, and before I know it, Grady is peering up at me from between my legs. Heat radiates through me, settling between my thighs and I’m pulsing with need, swollen and ready for him. I’ve never felt this before, this burning need that flickers to life like a flame that’s almost gone out but just needs one breath to rekindle it. The need that flickers to life because I know what it feels like already. I know what it feels like to have Grady, and now my body anticipates what’s coming.
“You’re already sowetfor me.” Grady’s lips twitch up from where he strokes my slit through my underwear. I’m practically panting at the sensation. “Come to mycandy shopand let me taste yourlabia.”
I bark out a laugh that takes me by surprise.
“Don’t ever fucking say that again while your face is between my legs,” I warn.
“What, labia? I thought I might get extra points if I used all the words in a sentence.”
“Nope. You get docked fifty points because my vagina just slammed shut. Closed for business. Dried up like the SaharaDesert.” I chuckle, but Grady slides the fabric of my thong to the side, and I can tell by the look on his face that he knows it’s a lie.
“Doesn’t look like it to me.” He peers up at me, fixing his eyes on mine as he places a flat tongue on my slit and sweeps upwards towards my apex. “Doesn’t taste like it either,” he adds, before swirling his tongue around that concentrated bundle of nerves once, and then closing his lips around it to take a long, deep suck.
I inhale a sharp breath in between my teeth as the suction verges on a delicious type of pain as I swell to the point of throbbing.
He releases and makes slow, languid circles around my clit, the sensation of his soft, slick tongue soothing me. My head drops back, and I close my eyes, letting the feeling of his mouth on me take over my body, each nerve ending connected to that one spot.
The pleasure builds and winds tighter, my core contracting around Grady’s fingers. Just as I feel my release close, he removes them and moves up, meeting me at eye level. He pushes his boxers down, releasing his hard length and slides into my opening, stretching me, filling me until all I feel is him. Every perfect inch of him.
“You’re so fucking tight for me,” he rasps, and it’s my undoing. I feel my muscles clench around him more. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Just like that.”
I don’t want to consider why his praise feels so damn good, why it just about sends me over the edge every goddamned time. He thrusts into me, his girth almost too much as I quiver and shake around him. God this feels so good. I cry out as the wave within me crests, pushing me over the edge.
“That’s it, Rebel,” Grady groans again, and I feel him pulse inside me. “Take. Every. Last. Drop.”
I want it. I want every drop of him. I want to be filled with him, consumed by him.
His body shakes as his pleasure collides with mine, and he comes to rest on his forearms over top of me. Neither of us makes a move away from each other. I don’t want this moment to end. Grady and I move like one, perfectly in sync, perfect together.
When he pulls away from me, he takes the air right out of my lungs with him. My body feels cold without him near me, but he doesn’t leave my side. He doesn’t do what most of my hook-ups do after sex. Get up, go to the bathroom, get dressed, and leave. He lies next to me and pulls me onto his chest, back into his warmth.
“This is nice. I like this.”I like you,I think. I love you.I get a satisfiedmmmin response. “Hey, sorry you had to see that conversation between my mom and I earlier,” I say, tracing a finger over his chest, tracing the outline of his tattoos. “Those are things that I don’t like to talk about or show anyone. Kind of an ugly part of me, I guess.”
“It’s not ugly if it made you into who you are today,” he says, and I can tell just by hearing him that he has his eyes closed. His voice is slow and soft, like butter. He’s still enveloped in the post-orgasm haze. I love him this way. I wish I could bottle this feeling and keep it forever.
“It is ugly. There are parts of me that aren’t glamorous or cool no matter which way you slice it,” I say. “I was always kind of the cool, aloof, untouchable girl to everyone else. My mom didn’t give a shit what I was doing half the time so it meant that I could do things other kids weren’t allowed to do. I always put on this mask so that nothing could bother me. You can’t be bothered about things if you don’t care.”
“And who were you, really?”
