Inside Out by Grayson Cole Page B

naked.” He reached over to his pants, which were lying on the floor, and pulled a condom out of his pocket.
    â€œI see you came prepared.”
    â€œI haven’t come at all yet,” he returned huskily. He kissed her stupid while a hand slipped between her legs to promote liquid acquiescence.
    When she moaned out loud, unable to stop the sound from bursting from her lips, he smiled widely. If she weren’t already lying down, her knees would have buckled and Tracey would have fallen down. She felt her stomach wobbling.
    Within seconds he had covered her body with his, and she burned and stretched as he pushed inside her slowly, filling her. She let out a moan; it felt so good she couldn’t help it. Then when he moved, God, she couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, she couldn’t do anything but feel it. It was like nothing else in life. In a single moment of clarity, her eyes widened and she could see him lick his lips, could hear the rush of his breath. Reflexively, she started to wind her waist and hips, meeting every delicious gift of his body with passion. His pale skin pressed into her dark skin and she saw that she still wore her bra. That erotic picture playing in her mind made it difficult to breathe. Every time he retreated, only to bury himself deeper and harder within her once more. He tore her soul apart and all she could do was make it easier for him to do it.
    And when she felt it start—when she felt herself reaching that precipice, her cries shrill and broken, every nerve in her body singing with glory—she tried to slow it down, she tried to hold out, but she couldn’t. She dug her fingers into the small of his back and rocked against him as hard and as fast as she could.
    He wrapped her hair in his fist and pumped harder, taking everything until she arched like a bow, every muscle in her body squeezed, paralyzed, until she started to shake from the violent climax. But he didn’t stop. He kept going until he grunted hard and his movements became shallow. Then he collapsed over her from his own orgasm.
    Moments later they were lying side by side, breathing heavily, and sweating. “That was… I haven’t… I mean, it’s been a while.” Tracey didn’t know what she was saying.
    â€œMe, too,” he said.
    They lay there for more moments than she could remember. The silence didn’t break until she got the giggles.
    After giving her a brief, lovely kiss, he asked, “What’s so funny?”
    â€œWhatever happened to foreplay?” Laughter bubbled all the way up out of her stomach.
    Garrett scratched his head and licked his lips. “Hell, Tracey, I thought that’s what we’ve been having for weeks.”
    He rolled over onto his side to face her. He studied her intently before bending his head toward hers and pressing his lips to her lips, softly, as if he were kissing a baby or some other something that was more precious and more fragile than Tracey ever imagined herself to be. And she felt her eyes close, the breath ease all out of her again, and her limbs became warm liquid. He kissed her long, without the hurry of only moments before. His hand found its way up to lie against her cheek. His gentle licking and sucking made her want to—at once—show him how much he was making her want him all over again and to be still so as not to upset this tenuous, surreal atmosphere. Just as gently as they came, his lips retreated and for hushed seconds he only looked at her. Then one hand, one smooth hand was placed flat against her stomach. It stroked her flesh, leaving tingles in its wake. Slowly, that hand moved down to fit over the curve of her hip, down further to grasp her thigh as he slid it up to lay over his. They both watched his hand there playing against her sensitive skin.
    His lips found her collarbone and gently traced it. They moistened a path down the center of her chest as he unhooked her bra. Her breasts