Gray's Girl (9 page)

Leaning in, his lips brushed her ear as he spoke softly. “I want you to go to the ladies’. Lock the door to the cubicle and touch yourself. Pretend it’s me as you do. Play with your clit, fuck yourself on those pretty little fingers until you’re ready to come. But do
not
let yourself come,” he ordered sternly. “I’ll know if you do. Now go.”

Oh God, he was going to be the death of her. Arousal zipped through her like a race car as she nodded and pushed to her feet, walking toward the toilets on shaky legs. Her body had been on high alert since earlier, when he’d pulled her into that cubicle and eaten her out until she’d come screaming his name. The second time he’d brought her off with his hand, but it had been no less intense for that. Not with him whispering all the things he wanted to do to her, with her, and have her do to him. Things that made her blush and catch her breath in need just thinking about. Half of them were not just kinky; she’d have called them outright perverted…if anyone but Gray had suggested them.

She made it to the bathroom without giving herself away too much, although the woman at the counter by the basins gave her an odd look as she passed. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she walked down to the farthest cubicle she could find, Frankie didn’t blame her.

Her skin was pale against the black of her dress and the dark brown of her piled-up hair. Only the bright pink of her cheeks and her overbright eyes saved her from appearing monochrome. She looked overwrought, like a woman on the edge. And she was. On the edge of her control, hands shaking as she shut the door on the last cubicle and lowered the seat.

Cheeks hot enough to cook eggs, she lifted her dress and sat down. The fabric bunched around her waist as she spread her thighs, closing her eyes as she slipped her hand between her thighs. The first stroke of her fingers against slick pussy lips made her bite her lip. She was wet, her lips silky and slippery as she circled her clit.

Play with yourself. Fuck yourself. Do not let yourself come. I’ll know if you do.

He wouldn’t know, would he? How would he know?

She carried on stroking, then thrust two fingers inside her soaking pussy, replaying the memory of his fingers inside her earlier. Frustration welled up as she thrust and circled, driving the need inside higher and higher. She didn’t want to do this herself. She wanted him here, his big body covering her, his tongue thrusting in her mouth as he used his fingers to bring her to the edge. Then he’d pull his hand away, replace it with the blunt, broad head of his cock. Stretching her as he pushed his way inside—

Crap! Her release roared up; the heavy wave of her climax almost overpowered her. She couldn’t come. Panting, she snatched her hand away and clamped her thighs together. Her clit throbbed in protest as she desperately tried to hold off. She couldn’t come. He’d told her not to.

Fluffy kittens, her nan’s wooly sweaters on the line. Post office queues.
She thought of anything and everything she could that was cute or boring or definitely
not
sexy to stave off the orgasm.

Wrung out and keyed up at the same time, she leaned sideways against the wall, using its tiled surface to cool her brow. After long minutes she opened her eyes, the thwarted ache in her body under control. Just.

Standing, she unlocked the cubicle and headed to wash her hands. Fix her hair. Check her makeup. Do the normal woman-type things as her own cream drew a thin trail down her inner thigh. God, she hoped he didn’t want to stay here long now. Dinner was over, the dancing would start soon, and God help her, there was no way she’d be able to dance with him. Not without wanting to strip that suit from his gorgeous body and going at it there and then, giving everyone in the room a show they wouldn’t soon forget.

Gathering her resolve not to jump him as soon as she saw him, she took a deep breath and walked out of the toilets. The noise from the function room increased as she made the corridor, her heels silent on the plush carpeting as she passed smaller rooms, some doors open with darkness beyond. The whole place reeked money and understated elegance, just what she’d expect from the chain who owned the Marlon.

Fanning herself with her hand, she tried to bring her color down before she reached the door. At least, once in there, she could claim the heat of the room was the cause for her appearance. Heat was right; it just wasn’t from the environment. Her entire body felt as if it was on fire. On fire for Gray.

Hard hands closed around her, making her squeak in surprise and fright as she was dragged backward into one of the dark rooms. Heart racing in her chest, she fought to get free of her captor, both taller and heavier than she was. Packed with muscle, the air around them carrying the scent of an expensive and familiar aftershave—

“Shh, sweetheart, it’s only me. I got you.” Gray’s deep tones filled her ears as he pulled her deeper into the darkness. Instantly she relaxed in his hold, letting him manhandle her easily. Not that she could have fought him off. At a little over five feet, her overly curvy figure just didn’t pack the sort of muscle she’d have needed to fight someone built like he was.

But fighting was the furthest thing from her mind at the moment as he reached the corner of the room and turned her to face one of the tables. Creamy linen covered it, the beginnings of place settings already down and a gap in the middle for a centerpiece. Obviously getting ready for a wedding here tomorrow.

“Bend over, hands on the table.”

The rough order and hard hand in the middle of her shoulder blades sent a thrill through her. The need that had fled under her fear when he’d grabbed her returned in full force, filling her veins with fire and awareness. Her senses expanded, picking up on everything about him as she leaned forward to put her hands on the surface in front of her.

“Good girl.” A large foot nudged her feet farther apart as his hand found the hem of her skirt. She bit her lip as he pulled, grabbing the other side and shoving the fabric up over her hips. A breeze from the open door the other side of the room washed over her revealed skin, whispering across her exposed pussy lips to curl around her clit.

“Suspenders. I like,” he whispered as he slid a finger beneath one strap and snapped it against her skin. She moaned, her knees almost buckling as the sting sent a fresh wave of heat and pleasure through her.

“Oh, yeah…I like a lot. I couldn’t wait, not knowing what you were doing in there.” The admission was low and rough, as though it was unwillingly dragged from him. He crowded her from behind, the thick bar of his cock pressing hard against the groove of her ass as he slid a hand around her hip and reached down.

She sucked a breath in as his fingers found her, the very touch she’d been fantasizing about in the toilets. His fingertips explored, collecting the juices dripping from her cunt and smoothing them up around her clit. Wordlessly she mewled, arching against him, desperate for his touch. She needed to come. Needed him to bring her to the edge and send her shattered over it.

“You didn’t come. Good girl.” He kissed the side of her neck, nuzzling the spot behind her ear that made her weak at the knees. Make that weaker, the joints like jelly as he mounted a dual assault, his lips on her neck as he stroked her with quick movements. As though he was trying to prove just how quickly he could bring her to orgasm. Prove his mastery over her body.

Her breathing came in pants, her hips rocking against his fingers, and when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he slid two fingers deep inside her in one quick, hard thrust.

“God, you feel good. That’s it, baby, I want to feel you come. All over my fingers. Imagine they’re my cock, buried deep inside you.”

As he spoke he rubbed his thumb over her clit. Her breathing hitched, a split-second delay before her brain caught up with the heat blossoming through her body as it gave up control and hurtled her over the edge.

He turned her head, claiming her lips and swallowing her cry of pleasure as she shuddered and jerked, bathing his fingers and hand with her hot essence. He carried on moving, thrusting and rubbing, drawing her release out as he made her ride the waves. Boneless, she hung limp in his arms as the shudders rolled through her until, finally, they ebbed away.

Kissing her neck, he slipped his fingers from her with a slurping sound and pulled her dress down. His face was tight as she stood and turned to face him.

“Fuck the dancing,” he said tightly, reaching for her hand. “We’re going home. Now.”

* * *

Fuck. If he didn’t get inside her soon, he was going to explode.

His cock as hard as a pike in his trousers, Gray stalked out into the corridor. Hand firmly around Frankie’s wrist, he tugged her along behind him, his rapid pace forcing her into a trot to keep up. He couldn’t wait to get her home, strip that pretty little dress off her and make her his.

First though, they had to get out of here. His hair brushed against his broad shoulders as he walked; the band it had been in earlier now snapped around his wrist. She liked his hair loose, and God help him, he wanted anything that would make her happy.

The corridor was empty. Thankfully. His cock was so hard it was bloody painful, punching a large ridge in the groin of his suit trousers. Luckily, the long-line jacket he had on hid a lot, but as he couldn’t do the damn thing up without the same tent problem, that concealment would only last until he sat down.

He wasn’t ashamed of his reaction. She was a beautiful woman, with a kind and giving personality that shone through. He’d already had to give the “hands off” signal to more than a few men who’d eyed her with interest. None of his teammates though. They were all too sensible to mess with him once he’d set his mind on something.

Even Vicky, who normally delighted in winding him up, was resolutely steering clear. No, he wasn’t ashamed of wanting her, but it was no one else’s damn business if he wanted to take her home and screw her until she couldn’t walk straight and her voice was croaky from screaming his name.

Screaming his name. Hell, yeah. He liked that. And he liked the little whimpers and mewls she made as he brought her to orgasm. The way her cum had felt over his fingers. How it would feel over his cock.

“Aren’t we going back in?” she asked in confusion. “I need to get my wrap.”

He flicked a glance back at her. She had her bag with her. The wrap was the only thing they’d left behind. She looked at him curiously, arousal and awareness simmering in her dark eyes. Fuck, he couldn’t think straight when she looked at him like that.

Yanking her closer, he pulled her into his arms and ravaged her mouth with a quick, hard kiss that did nothing to soothe the demands raging through his blood.

“We go in there and I’ll fuck you over the first horizontal surface,” he warned on a low voice so only she could hear. The hitch in her breath and the widening of her eyes fed his ego. God, she was so innocent sometimes. Even though she was older, he knew without asking that he had years more experience in the bedroom.

During his wild, younger years there hadn’t been an experience he hadn’t had, some he relished and found he liked, some he wanted to forget as though they’d never happened. Most he wanted to relive, with her. Especially, to his shock, the ones that involved tying her up, or down, and taking what he wanted from her. The cries and whimpers as he tortured her with his lips or fingers, her screaming his name as she came, the sweet taste of her release on his tongue.

He shuddered at the thought. Since those days, he’d calmed down. He considered himself a gentle lover, considerate. He didn’t want to be considerate with Frankie. Something about her called to the primal animal within. She was his. His to take, to love, to protect. And no one was taking her from him.

She opened her mouth but a new voice broke the silence instead.

“Well, look who it is. How are you, Frankie? You’re looking…well.”

She froze before she turned in his arms. It was just a split second, but enough for him to register and not like the guy based on her reaction. The next words out of her mouth sealed the deal for him.

“Hello, Robby. I didn’t know you were in town.”

Robby. Her ex.

The pleasant expression dropped from Gray’s face as though it had never been and his arms tightened around her protectively. This was the idiot who’d ditched her in favor of shagging some blonde bimbo. Which made him both ecstatic and furious at the same time. Furious because the bastard had hurt Frankie, and ecstatic because that selfsame event had led her back to him. And he didn’t plan on letting her go anytime soon.

Sweeping a glance over the other man, Gray had to stop his lip from curling in dismissal. Tall for the average guy, he was probably a little over six feet. Midget-sized compared to Gray. His shoulders filled out his shirt, the ubiquitous “I’m a fitness fanatic” look common to desk drivers. Soft muscle built in a gym, not hard, working muscle like Gray’s, earned through blood and sweat on the pitch. Poser. The kind of bloke who twisted words and situations to get what he wanted rather than being decent and on the level.

“Who’s the Neanderthal, Franks?” Robby looked at him directly, a sneer on his face. “Mind you, I suppose it doesn’t matter. You obviously didn’t pick him for his brains. Good luck mate, she’s a shit shag. I had to keep one on the side…” He paused to cup his groin in a lewd gesture. “If you know what I mean?”

Fury exploded through Gray, white-hot and all consuming. That was it. He was going to kill the bastard. Bounce the little twat off every surface he could find and then some, messing up the guy’s slimy good looks and leaving a blood trail in his wake. Power surged through him as he pushed Frankie to the side and started forward.

He could do it. Easily. With his gym-bunny muscle, there was no way Robby would stand up to him. He’d pick the smaller guy apart painfully, then grind him underfoot. Which, in the expensive leather-soled Italian shoes he’d worn for the evening, would be nowhere
near
as satisfying as it would be if he’d been wearing studs. A brief fantasy of shoving this guy onto the pitch and running him down flashed through Gray’s head and he felt his lips compress into a tight line as he advanced.