First Comes Love - Ashlee Price Page 0,16

them, we just push some more.” She chuckles at herself. “Sorry, getting all metaphysical there. What I mean is: pot helps me relax, enjoy myself more. Not that I wasn’t before, just, you’re a big deal, and I’m new, and I actually think you’re really cool in person, which a lot of these big deal people aren’t, which makes it all worse, and…”

That’s it.

My lips find hers, and as soon as they do, it’s clear: she was just talking to fill the space before this. There never could’ve been anything else but this.

As thought ebbs away as our lips meet and remeet and swirl and twist with absolute perfection, I find myself thinking of those words. How she was right.

For the first time in what seems like months, as I kiss her, my mind is going blessedly blank, relaxed with nothing more than pure enjoyment.

Chapter 6

Harley

Oh, yes.

Fantasy has nothing on reality, as far as kissing Greyson is concerned. His lips are the perfect balance between giving and taking, which for me means a whole lot more taking. They lead mine in a dance his tongue soon joins in.

He tastes like the sausages we had for dinner, and smells like that maddening pine. Half a minute of kissing and I’m wet already, and we’ve barely begun.

The pot strengthens every sense: makes his fingers combing down my back nearly maddening, his lips on my throat ecstasy. This would be glorious without the pot—Greyson knows what he’s doing, that’s for sure—but with, it’s almost unbearable.

Our fingers explore each other, my shoulders, arms, sides, hips tingling pleasure with his touch. His body is lean but fit, ridged with compact muscles I bring my lips onto. The shirt’s getting in the way, though.

“Hmm,” I say, catching his eye.

We undo his button-up together, chuckling at how difficult it is, when all we want to do is touch each other, feel.

We’re doing a whole lot of that right now. He runs his fingers through my waves, then, suddenly, grabs and brings the side of my head to his lips. Pain mingles with pleasure as he laps at my ear.

“You’re fucking gorgeous.”

It’s part accusation, part worship. When I pull back to tease him with a “Thanks, boss,” his growl yanks me right back to him.

“Don’t call me that.”

I twist a kiss onto his lips, then pull back, taking his lip partway with me to eye him tauntingly, “Or what?”

Greyson’s hands settle on my ass, then pull back—“Or I’ll do this”—and spank me. “Or this.” They knead the fat there.

I groan into the side of his face. God, it feels good.

Our fingers entwine as our bodies move together, rub together, flow as one. Our lips can’t get enough of each other—kisses last several minutes, even every slight pause seems unbearable. His fingers drawing away to skate under my top is only part of the kiss. Part of the onward flow that’s impossible to stop or even slow.

Another kiss—and his fingers lightly trace the outlines of my bra.

Another kiss—and his fingers press into my bra harder.

Another kiss—and his fingers smear my bra into my breasts, and the pleasure is so intense that I groan again.

He growls with pleasure. “That’s it.”

The next kiss, he rips off my shirt, then my bra, his fingers delighting in the softness of my breasts. His stroking touch has me moaning again as he lowers his lips to my breasts.

My fingers grab hold of his hair as he kisses circles around my nipple, using the slightest touch of teeth, until he lands on my nipple and sucks it.

My crotch is thrashing into his, feeling his hard-on. I’m aching for him.

As his lips move to my other breast, we scramble to undo his pants, half-laughing half-panting as we fumble with the button then the zipper. He bites down on my breast and I cry out. Once again, pain slaps pleasure to new heights.

Next thing I know, his hard-on is closer than ever before as my pussy rubs against him.

My hands go to both sides of his face as we kiss. His fingers press into the wet spot on my panties, directly onto my clit.

He smirks at how I’m practically panting now. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I groan.

We kiss the rest of our clothes off, our bodies clasping and re-clasping, his cock easing into me further and further until—he shoves himself inside of me and I gasp, pleasure rocketing through me.

“It feels so… fucking good,” I moan.

“Fucking good,” he groans back, flexing in me.

For a good minute, neither of us move,