He hears as she jumps down, and a few beats later, items drop to the floor, the unmistakable jingle of keys.
“I’m done with the line between us, Grayson. Either you are in this. Or you’re not.”
She’s right.
Grayson breathes in and out a few times.
Finally, he whips his attention to her. To Sunday holding the keys. To her naked form. To her pink nipples on full breasts. To her hips and unblemished skin. To her creamy thighs. To the freckles leading up to her–
“Sunday.” He clenches his fists. “What are you doing?”
Her eyes hood, her tongue lashes out, licking her lips hypnotically.
“Forging my own path.” And then she jumps forward, wrapping herself around him. Every piece of her bare and begging for his attention.
He wants to run. He wants to fuck her. He wants to yell. He wants to bend her over his desk and mark himself inside of her.
And this time when their lips meet it is a flurry of nibbles, tongues, lips, a clashing of teeth.
Sunday may not be Grayson’s first, but she will be his last. She will be the only one to ever matter.
“Sunday,” he growls around her lips. “You should leave. You should stop me. You just went through a traumatic experience.”
“No!” She bites on his lip,hard. “I want this. I want you. I’ve held back long enough. I’m not making the mistake of waiting again.”
“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he warns. He is quickly losing his temporal lobe, all of his blood has long since rushed south, and now Grayson is simply acting on instinct.
On his primal needs and urges.
“Yes I do!” Sunday is breathless as she continues her argument.
Grayson isn’t sure he agrees with her, but he is distracted by his hands gravitating on their own to her breasts. Of how soft and smooth and heavy they are in his hands. He wants to worship her. To write poems and name lands after her.
Her hands finding their way to his jeans jars him from his mind.
“What are you doing?”
She doesn’t answer as she undoes the button, unzips them, and then her smooth finger tips are stroking him.
“Let me get you there first.” He groans as her fingers grip him tighter.
She strokes his length now tracing a line to the sensitive tip. “No, I want you.” She speeds up her pace, revving up the intensity, pushing him past the point of rationale.“Now.”She rocks up towards him.
“Fuck!” It is in a lust-filled haze that he flips her around, that he pushes down his jeans, that he tears open a condom from his wallet, that he grabs her by the wrists and pushes her over his desk, that he lines himself up to take her.
It is only her soft mewl that causes him to pause.
“Are you ready for this Sunday? After this, there will be no turning back.”
44
October 12th
Why was I angry?
“Yes,” I moan, attempting to shift backwards.
Bent over Grayson’s desk with him pinning me over it, with his cock poised, with him holding my arms behind my back.
