Grace…
I grabbed handful of duvet and bit down.
"Good girl," he whispered with a satisfied grin and went to work.
And it was spectacular.
Chapter Sixteen
Warmth spread through my tummy as tightness began to build. I hissed as I felt a flickering, an insistent fluttering, and then a warm wet tongue sweetly lapping at me. I leaned into it, feeling the intensity as it ran through me.
Mmmmm.
I woke with a start, breathing heavily, and in the middle of a moan. I clutched the sheets to me, covering my nakedness. I could still feel the pangs of my dream orgasm beating through me. It had been so real, it felt so real. I was still completely aroused.
"Thank God you're up. I was worried that I was losing my touch," I heard my Brit say. I looked around the room, searching for him, until I felt a poke on my leg.
I looked down and I saw Jack between my legs.
This would now be known as the Hamiltonian Wake-Up-Call.
His tongue was poised just over me, ready to deliver another kind of kiss that killed.
"Oh, God, I wasn't dreaming that?" I exclaimed, nipples on point.
"Huh uh," he whispered, pointing his tongue and placing it against me. I leaned up on my elbows and watched him. Amazing. The sight of him, spreading me with his magic fingers and pressing his tongue against me, was the best way I had ever been woken up.
I moaned.
Then he moaned against me, the vibration of his lips making me shiver.
He buried his face in my sex, making my toes curl and my back arch. He furiously pressed his tongue into me, bringing me to a quick peak. I clutched my thighs around him, digging my heels into his shoulders, rocking back onto the bed. Before I was finished, I pulled his face away.
"Come here," I growled, and after kissing my Hamilton Brand, he obeyed. I kissed him feverishly, the taste of me all over him. He was still gloriously naked from the night before…and gloriously hard. I grasped him firmly while his hips bucked into mine. My name slipped from his lips as I whispered in his ear.
"Touch me again," I said, guiding his hand back to me. We stroked each other and I was still so sensitive from just moments ago that it did not take much.
"Oh, God, Jack! That's so good!" I cried, never taking my gaze off his, even though my eyes wanted to roll back in my head.
He growled as he watched me come again, a devilish grin on his face. I pushed him back and knelt next to him on the bed. He kept one hand between my legs and I dedicated both of my hands to him, watching his beautiful face. He was moaning, my name continuing to fall from his mouth. He was rock hard and I imagined how he would feel inside me.
He was close and I pressed my face to his. His head was thrown back on the pillows with that look that I'd come to love all over his face. It was a thing of beauty. His eyes were fiercely shut, jaw tense, brow furrowed, mouth slightly open, moaning my name. As much as it killed me to do it, I removed his hand from me. I wanted this to be about him.
"Open your eyes, Jack," I said quietly. "I need to see you."
His lids opened and the look of wonder in his eyes stunned me silent. I felt him tense as he came for me and I grasped his face with my left hand, sweeping open kisses across his cheek as I watched him.
His eyes never left mine. I felt him shudder and I slowed my hand, gently taking him back down.
"Jesus. Grace," he moaned, finally shutting his eyes, pulling my forehead down to meet his own. His breath was sweet as he continued to shudder. I wrapped my arms around him and wrapped my body around him as well. I brought him down to my breast and cuddled him to me, holding him tightly as the last few waves ran through his body.
I loved that I could make him feel like this.
***
"So, this meeting, is it a callback?" he asked over the roar of the water. I stepped out from underneath the shower head, pointing it more directly on both of us.
"Kind of, I auditioned for them last week and rather than a traditional callback, I'm going straight through to producers," I answered, sweeping my hair out of my face. "Shampoo, please," I directed. He turned around in the shower stall, giving me a peek at his cute little buns. I couldn't resist a little squeeze. He flexed them for me, making me giggle.
"Fuck, you have like four different shampoos. Which one do you want?" he asked, puzzled. "And why do you have so many?"
"I need them for different days. Some days you need a clarifying shampoo, some days you need a color boost…today we will go with the deep conditioning, please," I selected, pointing at the chosen shampoo.
"Huh, I usually just collect all the free ones from hotels and use whatever I have on hand."
"Maybe that's why you feel the need to wear that damn ball cap all the time," I teased.
"Don't hate the cap," he instructed firmly, pouring the shampoo in his hand.
"Spin 'round," he said, indicating that I should face away from him. I did, and I felt him begin to wash my hair.
Well, wasn't he too cute?
"So, producers. That's great, Sheridan. What time are you meeting them?" he asked as he continued to lather. He seemed to be having great fun making swoops and swirls with my hair and all the bubbles, and I think I caught what looked like a pompadour in the reflection of the glass door. He had used almost two palms full. I wasn't surprised at all the lather.
"Holly said at 2:00 p.m. What do you have going on today?"
"I have more reshoots tonight, probably pretty late," he said. "OK, rinse," he instructed, guiding me under the spray.
I felt him gently work all the lather out of my hair, being careful not to get any in my eyes. He really was sweet. I returned the favor, lavishing attention on his scalp, since he was a fiend for it. Of course, he was so much taller than I was, and in order to reach his head I had to stand on tiptoe in front of him. He made sure I was steady, though, keeping my breasts firmly grasped in hand.
"What? I'm supporting you. I don't want you to slip and fall," he griped, when I raised an eyebrow at him.
"Uh huh," I answered, giving his head one final scratch. "OK, rinse," I said.
He closed his eyes and stood under the water, while I grabbed my shower gel— brown-sugar and coconut scented—and proceeded to wash my body. By the time he opened his eyes again, my body was covered in fragrant bubbles and my hands were slipping and sliding around on my skin, something that was not lost on Mr. Hamilton.
"Crazy, what are you trying to do to me?" he sighed, leaning against the tiles.
"Settle, George. I'm just taking a shower. Here…try some of this." I flipped him the bottle.
Maybe I arched my back just a little more than necessary when I swept my hands across my breasts.
"Grace…" he warned, and I could see how I was affecting him. I giggled. He examined the shower gel. "Coconuts! It's coconuts!" he exclaimed.
"What's coconuts?" I asked, turning my back to him to rinse my front.
"That's what you smell like! You smell like coconuts and clean laundry," he said proudly, as if he had cracked some code. He might just have been the cutest thing ever. I peered over my shoulder at him. He was grinning.
"I smell like clean laundry?"
"And coconuts, don't forget the coconuts," he reminded me.
"No, we really shouldn't forget the coconuts," I said, turning to face him and running my hands down his torso, and even lower. His eyes widened.
I didn't forget the coconuts.
***