Wining Celeste (Book 4) Jacobs Broken Mercenaries

chapter 17

Celeste

Once I get these spells done, there really won’t be a need for him to stay with me. I’ll have my home and my life set straight. The thought should make me happy, but instead I’m left with a feeling of sadness. 
“What are you thinking about?” Grayson asks me, glancing away from the road. His fists grip the steering wheel a little too firmly, and his jaw is tense. He’s got me wondering the same thing.
“Not much.”
I know I’m being evasive, but so is he. I’m an excellent judge of character, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt; he’s keeping something from me. Earlier, I found out I was his mate and figured that was it. With the cat out of the bag, I shouldn’t be picking up on anything, but it’s still there. Clear as day.
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
What is he fishing for?
“Not unless I have something to say.” 
I start a countdown in my head, wondering how long it will take him to bring it up.
“You found out you’re my mate, and you have nothing to say?”
Nine seconds. Not bad.
“I’m your mate. You’re not mine.”
“Really! Is that how it is?” He snaps. Clearly, I’ve angered him. I watch his knuckles turn white, and I fear he’ll yank the steering wheel off.
“What’s your deal, Celeste? Why are you like this?”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I turn my head, looking out the window. I don’t know why I push him like that. He doesn’t deserve it. It’s a good question, but one I’m not willing to answer.
“I have no idea what you’re referring to.” I tell him. Keeping my eyes averted, I stay silent for the remainder of the ride. 
I spend the next couple of hours fortifying my house. The extra shot of power from the release of Lucifer’s containment spell comes in handy. 
I can feel him watch me from the kitchen window, simmering with anger. Us witches can sense auras. His normally whimsical one is covered in angry energy. 
I do feel a touch bad about being so rude. Okay, more than a touch, but mate or not, I can’t get over the feeling of secrecy. Until he’s a hundred with me, he doesn’t stand a chance.
My mouth waters when I step inside. The smell of roasted potatoes brings back one of the few good memories from my childhood. I can’t recall when I last took the time to make them. Is that steak? Oh, my god, it is… and asparagus. Wow! The man can cook, I’ll give him that.
I’m about to say something smart until I smother it with a smile.
“Can you stop for a bite?”
I thought he’d never ask.
“Actually, all done.” I tell him, resisting the urge to pounce on the food. Don’t look so impressed, I chide myself, but it’s useless. I am impressed. 
He pours a glass of Shiraz. I didn’t even know I had and sits next to me. Not across from me, not at a safe distance. We’re brushing knees. It’s not just the food that’s tempting anymore. One mystery that plagues me is what he looks like under his clothes.
“If I’d known food would spark your desire, I’d have cooked for you weeks ago.”
I snap my head to the plate of food in front of me. I’m a freaking mess. My heart is racing, the blood flow spreading to dangerous places. 
“Don’t freeze up on me freckles.”
He places his hand on my thigh, and wetness floods me. I drop my fork and flail, trying to catch it. His seductive laugh has me turning my head in curiosity. Grayson catches his tongue between his teeth and my panties melt. Good God, this man is sexy. It should be illegal to look that good.
“Do you like it?”
I swallow, trying to remember he spoke, and I have to answer.
“Like it?” I repeat in a thready voice.
Grayson pushes my chair back, leaning in front of me, and places his palms on my thighs, spreading them. I gasp loudly, holding my breath. His tongue begins a slow languid climb up my thigh, and I moan, throwing my head back. His palms heat my legs through my skirt, covering a good portion and his tongue… fuck me if I ever felt something so good. I’ve been with a few men, but every one of them lacked the confidence Grayson has in spades. 
“Let me taste you? Just one taste.”
I don’t think just plead.  I’ll die if he doesn’t. Grayson swipes the table clean, placing me on top of it like a dinner plate. His dinner. I lay back, gripping the wood and shutting my eyes. 
My skirt is shoved above my hips and my panties get tossed behind him. My sex is already swollen, as if I’ve been touching myself for hours.
The moment his firm, hot tongue strokes me, I quiver, clamping my legs shut. Grayson slams them open with a growl so close to an animal, I gasp. He seals his lips over me, thrusting his tongue, and my head slams back as my hips rise to meet the dips of his wicked mouth. With my eyes squeezed shut, tears stream down my cheeks at the intense sensation. He doesn’t lick me; he eats at me like he’s starving, like he solely exists for my pleasure alone. 
More pressure. Faster. He’s relentless, giving me no break, no mercy. My cries of pleasure seem to make him crazed as he squeezes every last drop with his tongue and I come from his greedy mouth. I think it’s over, but he flips me, grabbing my hips as he lifts me to my knees from behind. His heavy breathing fills the air, and I silently wait for his next move. My legs are shaky and I try to still them, failing miserably. After several seconds, I peek behind me. Grayson looks wild. His pupils are dilated, his eyeteeth have grown and sharpened like canines. The once modestly loose shirt has tightened, leaving little flow from his body. I gasp at the significant changes. The noise seems to pull him from his thoughts. I watch him normalize. Admittedly, I’m a little scared and a lot excited at his intense reaction.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think... I didn’t mean to lose control.” 
He’s sorry? That was the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, and he’s sorry. Isn’t it good to lose control? It would be boring if he felt nothing, and I thought I had issues. Shit! I should say something. There’re so many things I want to say, I can’t choose one over the other and Grayson gets the wrong impression. I scramble up on shaky legs to go after him. 
“I don’t regret it.” I tell him, clasping his shoulder. He turns, looking at me in surprise. The raw emotion I witness in his eyes gives me chills, freezing me in place. Is this what emotional connection feels like? So scared the feeling will stop, you can’t breathe. Completely in tune with the other person’s every move you feel as one? I’m so overwhelmed with feelings I’ve never experienced. I don’t know whether to cry or laugh or... just breath. Breath! Yes, I have to do that.
Grayson searches my eyes and whatever he finds flares a smile.
“There you are.” he mutters. Huh, what does that mean? I never left.
“What do you want, Celeste? Tell me what you want from me, because I sure as hell want more... I want all of you.”
My heart is racing, I know what I want to say; I want all of you too. Right now, I want to scream it, but I can’t. Years of safeguarding my heart won’t allow it. So, I say the best I have to offer.
“I want you to fuck me, Grayson.”
His eyes flare with surprise at my boldness. I see a quick flash of disappointment before he scoops me up and climbs the stairs two at a time. I fall to the bed and he follows me down, taking my lips in a punishing kiss. His wild need turns my body to putty in his hands. I moan into his mouth. In the back of my mind, I recall where he just was. I can taste myself slightly, but it feels taboo. With him I’m a wanton... no filters. It’s completely freeing. This feels… life altering; like he’s changing me somehow.
“Stop thinking Celeste.” 
Grayson punctuates his demanding growl with a thrust to my core that sends any thoughts tumbling out of my head like blocks from a bucket. He frees himself and I grip the pillows, opening for him. I’ve never been so turned on in my life. I’ve never been with someone like Grayson. Someone... perfect.