The Queen. Tiffany Reisz

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СКАЧАТЬ anyone but him.”

      “Søren.”

      “Yeah, him.”

      “I know this might surprise you, but I’d gotten used to the idea of thinking we were friends. Almost best friends,” he said. “I wanted us to be that and you acted like that’s what you wanted, too. Then you disappeared and you didn’t tell me where you went or why you left. So obviously we weren’t best friends if you couldn’t tell me where you were going, which is fine. That’s cool. But knowing you didn’t feel the same about me didn’t make me feel any differently about you. When King said you were back in the city, I came back the same day. And when he said he wanted me to keep an eye on you since you were, you know, going through a rough adjustment period, I said I would. Because maybe if I keep an eye on you, next time you run off I’ll know where you went.”

      Simple words and not very eloquent, yet they somehow slipped through the cracks in the hard shell she’d built around herself since leaving the convent. No, since leaving Søren.

      “Do you want to be my best friend?”

      “With benefits?” he asked.

      “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

      “I’m in,” he said grinning broadly. “Buddy.”

      “Good, old pal.” She pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. He looked utterly delectable in his black jeans, his leather harness. She ran her hands up and down his taut stomach, tracing the edges of the harness, caressing his chest and arms. She kissed his scruffy, handsome face and wondered at the change in him. He’d always been a charmer, a rogue, a wicked playboy trust-fund baby cracking dirty jokes and acting as the life of the party, every party. No one who knew him as Master Griffin would believe he was on his back for her. No one would believe he had this tenderness to him. Where had he been hiding it? Did it show itself with her because they were friends? Or was it something else? Or maybe it wasn’t Griffin who’d changed at all. Maybe it was her. Maybe she’d changed. Maybe it was always there and now she finally noticed it.

      Elle lowered her mouth to his ear and whispered, “Pick a number between one and ten.”

      “What?”

      She pulled back and looked down at him.

      “You heard me.”

      “What am I picking?”

      “I’m not going to tell you until you’ve picked your number,” she said.

      “But how do I know what number to pick until I know what I’m picking?”

      “Exactly.”

      Griffin narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re evil.”

      “Still waiting on that number, Griff.”

      “Fine. I don’t know. Seven?”

      “Seven. Good.”

      “What’s good? Why is seven good?” Griffin sounded slightly panicked.

      “Because seven is the number of orgasms you’re going to give me today. And when I’ve had seven you can fuck me. And you can’t fuck me until I’ve had seven.”

      “Seven orgasms? You want me to get you off seven times? One-for-each-day-of-the-week seven?”

      “Is that a problem?” She cocked her head at him.

      “Yes, that’s a problem. A big problem,” Griffin said.

      “Is it? And why so?” she asked.

      Griffin grinned up at her, a grin she felt right in her belly.

      “Because I should have picked ten.”

      Elle laughed and kissed him again.

      “Ten might kill me,” she said.

      “But what a way to go.”

      Standing up, Elle crooked her finger at Griffin, who slipped his hands into her underwear and started to slide them down her legs.

      “Fold them,” she said.

      “What?”

      “Fold my underwear. Don’t throw them.”

      “You threw my T-shirt.”

      “Who’s in charge here? Hmm?”

      “You are.”

      “Good. Now fold them.”

      Griffin gave her the classic “you’ve gotta be kidding me but if it’ll get me laid...” look and obediently folded her black silk panties. Clearly he hadn’t folded much women’s underwear in his life as they resembled a pocket handkerchief when he’d finished with them. Someday they would go out in formalwear, and she’d make Griffin put her panties in his breast pocket.

      “Any rules?” he asked.

      “You can use your mouth, fingers and toys, but no cock.” She crawled back onto the bed and lay back on the pillows.

      “How many fingers?”

      “Are you asking if you can fist me?”

      “They don’t call me Griffin Fist because I know how to box.”

      “If you can get your whole hand in there, then you’re welcome to. But I’ll be surprised.”

      “Have a little faith in me. I’m the David Copperfield of fisting.”

      “The Dickens character or the magician?”

      “There’s fisting in Dickens? I should have majored in English instead of art.” Griffin winked at her as he grabbed a pillow from the head of his bed and pushed it under her hips. He kissed her again on the mouth and she sensed real affection in Griffin’s kiss. He cared for her. It made it easier for her to relax and open her legs for him without any nervousness or self-consciousness.

      With the tips of his fingers, Griffin found her clitoris and lightly rubbed it as he kissed her neck. Passionate kisses on a naked neck. No, she didn’t miss her collar at all.

      Griffin slid down her body and settled between her thighs. Carefully he parted her wet folds, touching her at first with his fingers. When he lowered his head and licked her clitoris she inhaled sharply. Such sudden pleasure, it was a gift.

      “The clit.” Elle sighed. “The only organ on the human body designed solely for pleasure. Proof God is a woman.”

      Griffin laughed and his warm breath brushed over her most sensitive parts. He worked his tongue over her again and again, lightly at first and then harder as she began to pant. What was better? What she felt or what she saw? Looking down and seeing Griffin’s naked shoulders, the leather harness strapped on his back moving with every breath, the hard muscle, the tan, the prominent ridge of biceps as he held himself in place. Bare feet. Ripped black jeans. A willingness to submit СКАЧАТЬ