So I left.
Chapter Nineteen
Spotted: Blair Reynolds and Thom Wyatt sneaking away at her parents’ annual Christmas party. Wonder what they discussed . . .
—Capital Confessions blog
Blair
I called a car to take me from McLean to D.C., cringing slightly at the expense, and met up with Caitlin, Adam, and a few others from our section at a bar around the corner from the W. By the time I arrived, everyone was well on their way to plastered. Caitlin insisted I catch up.
So I did.
I’d never done much partying; even college had been relatively tame. And now I just wanted to let loose a bit. I wanted more than a life of playing it safe. I wanted more—
I wanted Gray.
So for the second time that night, I left the party early, in favor for a very special, private party—
For two.
* * *
This was probably not my best idea. And yet here I was.
I stood on Gray’s doorstep, slightly intoxicated. For a moment I questioned my sanity as I lifted my hand in the air to ring the buzzer, and then months of sexual frustration came to a head as my finger pressed the button.
Buzz. Buzz.
I waited, and then I heard the sound of the door opening, and Graydon Canter in all of his masculine glory stared at me from the other side.
His eyes were wide, his expression slack. “Blair? Are you okay? It’s two a.m.”
For a moment, we just stared at each other. He was dressed in a pair of dark blue pajama pants and a gray T-shirt. His hair was rumpled from sleep, his feet bare.
Gray blinked, his gaze traveling down my body, taking in the little black dress and the killer heels. He swallowed, and then he stared into my eyes, and he didn’t look sleepy anymore.
“Can I come in?”
He nodded, his lips parted as he moved to the side, and I crossed the threshold.
His gaze on me the entire time, I was thankful for the dress that gave me the courage I needed to show up on his doorstep in the middle of the night.
It wouldn’t be easy with him. He had too much baggage for easy. I didn’t care. I was ready for whatever Gray threw my way.
I walked into the living room, turning to face him. He hovered in the doorway, his expression unsure.
I didn’t want to be protected. Maybe he wasn’t the hero, but right now all I knew was that even though he saw himself as the villain, I wanted the darkness inside him. I wanted it all.
“I want you.”
Gray’s eyes widened, as though my words had caught him off guard. But really, I stood in front of him in his living room in a skimpy dress at two a.m.; there weren’t many other conclusions one could arrive at.
“I’m technically not your student anymore. We’re both single adults. You want me. I want you.”
“Blair.”
Frustration filled me at the protest in his voice. No. Was it that he had been my teacher? Or his concerns that he wasn’t right for me? Either way, I’d come here for an orgasm, and I wasn’t leaving without one.
I could have blamed the drinks for the words that tumbled from my lips, but that would have been too easy. The words had been there for years, pushing to get out, trapped behind manners, and social rules, and the media following my every fucking move. And like the devil he was, he tempted the words out of me, filling me with need, and lust, and a want only he could satisfy. So for possibly the first time in my entire life, I said every single thing I thought as I told him the truth.
“You know what I need? I need to get laid. I need an orgasm. I need to feel a man’s body on mine. Hell, I’d like for someone to rip my thong off. They’re always doing that in books. Do you know that every single time I read a book and some guy rips the heroine’s underwear off, I think to myself, that seems too difficult to believe. Like, are they just poor quality or have they been washed too many times, or what? Because I’m twenty-three years old and no one has ever ripped my underwear off. I’m calling BS on the whole thing.”
His eyes went dark, but I was too keyed-up to stop.
“I want what you gave me on Halloween. I want more. So much more.” My voice shook. “Do you know that I’ve never had an orgasm from straight-up sex?”
“Jesus.” He half-choked the word out.
“Never. This whole time I thought it was me. That there was something wrong with me. Now that I know my former fiancé is gay, I mean it makes more sense, but for years I thought there was something wrong with me. Like I was too polite to come. I bought a vibrator—”
“Fuck, Blair.”
I stopped, mid-rant. “What? Yeah, I know. Ladies don’t use vibrators. They don’t have sex with their perfect fiancé, and then go home, and lie in bed, and get themselves off in the dark because they just need to feel something more.”
He let out a sound that was somewhere between a choke and a groan. He took a step toward me. Then another. His voice got husky, low.
“I don’t give a shit about what ladies do or don’t do. Just you. The thought of you teasing yourself, touching yourself. Fuck, that’s hot.”
He released a shaky breath, and a surge of victory slammed into me. He wanted me. Even if he didn’t want to want me. Maybe he’d meant to go slow, but I wanted nothing to do with caution. I wanted to hurl myself down the ride of my life. I wanted to feel so much it hurt.
“You want to be the villain? Fine. I’m not looking for a hero. I know you have issues. I know you have baggage and you’re so obviously commitment-phobic, it’s not even funny, but you want me. You can pretend you don’t, but I’m not some young girl you can intimidate. You said you were taking a chance on this—getting off the fence. Get off the fence.
“I want you to fuck me.” There, I’d said it. And somehow the world hadn’t descended into chaos. “I want you to make me forget that the last guy I had sex with—the only guy I’ve ever had sex with—probably never really wanted me.”
My voice shook with nerves, anticipation, and a sexual desire that ran through me like a flash flood.
Now or never.
I reached behind me and unzipped the dress, letting the fabric fall to the floor in a pool of silk and satin, leaving me exposed in a lace Agent Provocateur half-corset.
Gray sucked in a deep breath, his mouth tight. His gaze darkened and my nipples pebbled in response, heat flooding my body as wetness pooled between my legs.
I wanted him. Fuck everything else.
Gray
I didn’t know how I’d ever been so stupid as to think she wasn’t sexy. The girl standing in front of me was, hands down, the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. She was a fucking fantasy.
She wore black lace that pushed her tits up as if offering them to my hands and mouth, and a little thong that showed a lot of skin.
I wasn’t sure who moved first, but the end result was the same—Blair in my arms, my hands on her ass, pulling her against my aching cock. She gave me her mouth, and I took it with my lips, tongue, and teeth. I sucked on her bottom lip, my teeth sinking into her flesh while she moaned against me, her hands moving under my shirt to stroke my back, her nails digging into my skin.
Fuck.
I’d always thought of Blair as the kind of girl who’d want candles and soft music and flower petals. I didn’t imagine her stripping in my living room and demanding I fuck her, but there was no chance in hell I was passing this opportunity up.
I broke away from our kiss so that she could pull my shirt off over my head, and then her mouth was mine again.
Her hands explored my chest, her fingers trailing down my torso until she reached my navel, teasing the skin there, dipping below my pajama pants. Her fingers curved around my cock and my hips jerked forward, pressing against her hand, my mouth torn from hers.