Avet, Danica - Ain't No Bull [The Veil 4] (Siren Publishing Classic) (24 page)

She was shaken out of her self-realization when Grant spun around, catching her around the waist with one thick arm. Turning again, he planted her on the countertop, his body shoved between her legs. His mouth ravaged hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth to tangle with hers.

Fireworks went off throughout her body. The dusting of hair on his chest abraded her nipples with just the right amount of pressure to leave her panting for more—if she could breathe. Grant sucked the air right out of her lungs, breathing it back into her as he refused to let her mouth go.

His hands weren’t idle either. They roamed her back, tracing delicate patterns over the scars there before heading to her ass. Cupping her in his hands, he lifted her, grinding her exposed sex against the base of his belly.

When he finally released her mouth, Izzy was rubbing her clit against his skin, wanting, no needing, release. He chuckled darkly as his hands left her ass to scoop up her breasts for his pleasure.

Throwing her head back, she cried out as he tortured the sensitive flesh with his teeth. He wasn’t rough, and that was the problem. Grant nipped. He teased. He grazed and nibbled, but he never bit when a bite would have sent her over the edge. Then he put his tongue into the equation.

The first swirl of his talented tongue sent convulsions of rapture through her womb. He laved her nipple with long, slow drags. His tongue danced around her peak before he settled his mouth on her and suckled. Izzy cried out, scraping her nails up the back of his neck to hold his head against her.

She was going to die from the pleasure. Her hips gyrated against his stomach even as she told herself she needed to keep her head. She couldn’t have sex with him. That stupid bet and her own compulsive need for freedom held her back. Her spasming sheath didn’t give a rat’s ass what her brain wanted. It hungered for Grant’s cock, weeping for him.

Grant’s mouth left her nipple with a soft pop before he tormented her other poor, neglected peak. She writhed on the countertop. She was going to come just from him suckling her breasts, she knew it! Her mouth gaped open as she tried to breathe. He left her again before she could reach climax. No, no!

Izzy’s breath sawed in and out as he fell to his knees before her.

“Grant, no.” The protest was weak, a bare whisper of sound with no real heat and he knew it.

* * * *

His nostrils flared as he leaned closer, his eyes closing as he caught her scent. She was unfurling, like a rose, her hormonal rhythm changing to meet his body’s demands. Grant rested his head on her thigh and breathed her in. She’d bathed his abdomen with her musk, marking him, and now he was about to taste the reward for his efforts.

She squirmed slightly, waking him from his trance. Looking up, he stared into her chocolate-colored eyes and stroked her with his tongue. Her body shuddered, slumping back as he lapped into her wetness with all the delicacy of a bee sipping honey. Her taste exploded on his tongue, sending his well-wrung cock into overdrive. He groaned, cupping her soft ass in his hands to hold her still so he could delve deeper.

Isola’s breath grew ragged as he sampled her delicate folds. She tasted so fucking good. He groaned, closing his eyes to better savor her. He thrust his tongue into her as far as he could, curling it at the tip to scoop up her sweet cream before retreating.

He repeated the careful tasting for several long seconds before his desires got the better of him. With an expert flick of his tongue at her rigid clit, he herded Isola towards orgasm. Her body tensed above him, her chest desperately rising and falling as she struggled to breathe. Slipping one hand down her sweet ass, he filled her tight channel with two long fingers.

Grant groaned at the vise-like clasp of her. He could so easily imagine her sheath snug around him, the little flutters of her building orgasm rippling around his cock. Her hands fell to the top of his head, her fingers clutching at his hair. Grant smiled against her pink flesh as her hips rose to meet his wriggling tongue and thrusting fingers.

“Grant,” she moaned. He watched her without slowing his motions. “Grant! Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods!” Her voice climbed progressively higher until she was keening.

The orgasm tore through her body. Isola’s thighs were wide-pressed, her hips jerking as she sang out in true operatic style. Strong muscles clamped around his fingers, squeezing and releasing in a rhythm that had Grant’s cock throbbing in unison. Her body’s moisture rained down on his tongue and hand. He growled. She was magnificent and all his.

* * * *

A loud ringing destroyed Izzy’s cocoon of sated pleasure. She wasn’t sure how long she’d hovered on the edge of oblivion, but was brutally yanked into the real world when Grant cursed. Guided by instinct and embarrassment, Izzy was off the counter and in her room before he even got off the floor. Her face burned. Had she lost her fucking mind?

Leaning on the door, she heard Grant curse again and slam out of the bathroom. She breathed a sigh of relief when his voice came from the living room. She wasn’t sure what would have happened if the phone hadn’t interrupted them. She was afraid she might’ve broken down and begged him to take her. And that wouldn’t have been good for either of them.

Chapter Twenty

Grant stared at Isola’s bedroom door. He didn’t know what to do. She’d brought him to climax twice—he blushed at the memory of his lack of control in the shower. He’d brought her to the kind of orgasm he’d only read about in
Playboy
, but she’d run from him as soon as she could. Anger pulsed through him. If the fucking phone hadn’t rung at that exact moment, he would probably be locked inside her right now.

The phone rang again. Stomping across the room where he’d thrown it, he snatched it off the phone.

“What!”

There was a stunned silence, then his mother’s voice. “Grant Strickland, how many times have I told you not to answer your phone like that?”

Closing his eyes, he collapsed on the sofa. Between Isola and his mother, he never seemed to win. His mouth curled. “Hey, Ma.”

She huffed. “I just wanted to be sure you didn’t forget about dinner with the Connellys tonight. Bill’s bringing his daughter,
Bethany
, and she’s so sweet! Wait until you meet her, Grant. I really think she’s the perfect first mate for your harem.”

She continued rattling on while Grant sat, stunned and disbelieving. Hadn’t his mother or father listened to him? He wasn’t taking anyone but Isola to mate. Anger at his parents for not understanding and anger at Isola for not realizing they were meant for each other bubbled beneath the surface as he listened to his mom extol the cow-swan’s virtues.
Bethany
sounded boring and placid, just like every other cow-swan he’d ever met. Nothing like the Amazon he’d come so close to fucking on his bathroom counter.

When Arabella paused to take a breath, Grant inserted his two cents. “I’m bringing Isola with me.”

“Wh—What?”

He pictured her blinking into space, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. She sounded horrified, as though he’d told her he was inviting the local butcher to dinner.

“I’m bringing Isola. She isn’t from around here and doesn’t know many people.” Which wasn’t exactly true. She’d made quite an impression on several of the shifters in the area after her fight with Lisa, but he didn’t want her hanging around them. He was the only horny bastard she’d be hanging around from now on. “And you always say it’s rude not to offer our hospitality to newcomers.” That was the sticking point, he knew. Arabella hated being thought of as anything but warm and welcoming.

Her breathing whistled in his ear and he knew she was fighting off a faint, but she was made of sterner stuff. She sucked in air. “That’s good. I’ll be sure to tell Bill to invite one of his business associates to even out the numbers. Be here for seven o’clock, or I swear I’ll take a switch to your backside, Grant!”

She hung up before he could protest the addition of another person, which was how she usually played it. If he had been thinking straight, he would’ve hung up after telling her Isola was going to dinner. Then he would’ve had the last word. He grimaced and turned the phone off.

“Who keeps calling?” Her voice was cool and collected as though they hadn’t set off earthquakes with their passion a few minutes ago.

Grant resented her poise. He liked it when Isola was fiery and untamed. Deliberately sitting back and splaying open his legs so that the towel gaped over his thickening cock, he looked over at her. “That was my mother. We have to be at their house for seven thirty.” He wasn’t going to be there at exactly seven to spend half an hour making small talk.

She frowned. Her wet hair was slicked back from her glowing face. She looked young and innocent, but he knew the fire that burned beneath the surface. She’d dressed in a pair of well-worn jeans, a baggy T-shirt, and her ever-present moccasins.

“What are we going there for? You know we have work to do here. I was going to try to call Fallon to see if he heard from Queen Albreda.” She frowned at him then it was like a light bulb went off in her head. She sighed deeply. “Oh, right, you have a date.” She shrugged and flapped a hand in his direction. “You go on and play coochie-coo with the cow-swan. I’ll stay here and try to save the world.”

Grant laughed at her, ignoring the angry glint in her eyes. “You know your queen won’t be happy if you call before you’re supposed to,” he told her chidingly. An angry blush burned her cheeks, giving her a freshly fucked look that he loved. “Come to dinner tonight and protect me from the lascivious cow-swan who wants me only for my seed.”

The anger shifted into amusement, but she fought it back. Her eyebrow rose in an arch expression he wanted to kiss right off her face. “I’m sure she wants you for more than your seed, Grant.” Chocolate eyes raked him from his head to his toes, stopping in the middle to study his swelling cock. “I’m sure she’s also interested in your money.”

He guffawed, not taking offense at all. “Yeah, probably right, sweet cheeks, which is why you should save me from her.” She opened her mouth to protest, and Grant did something he hadn’t done since he reached maturity. He pushed out his bottom lip and pinned her in place with his most sorrowful look. “Please? Pretty, pretty, pretty please? Don’t let the mean cow get me.”

Her lips quivered, and he knew he had her. Triumph filled him with renewed vigor and optimism. “Fine! But I’m not dressing up and if someone insults me, I’ll start naming my favorite beef cooking methods. I swear it.”

Grant fought back his laugh, but couldn’t hide his smile. “I’ll even help you.”

* * * *

This was a stupid idea. She hadn’t done something this stupid since…well, since the morning when she’d tracked Grant to his parents’ house. She grimaced. Really, maybe she needed some kind of intervention.

Grant looked fucking good, of course. The black slacks and black button-down shirt he wore made him look…dangerous. The gold ring in his nose gave him a sexy edge that he really didn’t need. The man was lethal without it. She wanted to dig her hand into those slacks and…No, not gonna go there.

Nervously pleating the folds of her skirt, she hoped she looked okay for this dinner. He hadn’t said exactly who they would be meeting there, so she’d opted for casual dress. It had been well worth pulling the skirt out and ironing it to see the look on Grant’s face when he caught sight of her.

It wasn’t the sexiest thing she’d ever worn. She had other outfits that were just barely legal to wear in public. The skirt went right above her knee, the top she’d paired with it was modest, but a deep earth brown that Rosetta had picked out for her. She shrugged. Grant seemed to like it. A lot, if the hunger in his eyes was any indication.

She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself and stared out the window. She would not think about Grant, his cock, or how much she wanted it. No. Not gonna happen.

They were about two miles from his parents’ home when Grant finally broke the silence. “Thanks for coming.”

Surprised that he would thank her for something that really was…nothing, she looked at him. “You’re welcome. I wouldn’t want them to make a meal out of you.” Those four-legged bitches. “Besides, I think your dad and I need to have some words.”