The pads of my fingers play with the skin at the hollow of his neck. “You know, I have plans too.”

“You do?”

I nod. “I do. For you.”

“And what might they be?”

My lips inch closer. “First, I’d like to kiss you.”

“I like this plan.”

“I thought you might.”

Grayson chuckles. “Anything more than just kissing?”

I move my hands down his body, tugging his shirt up so I can touch him. “There could be some touching.”

“Well, I like touching.”

“Do you now?” I ask, playfully.

Grayson’s hand finds the skin along my back where my shirt has ridden up a bit. “I definitely like touching you.”

I grin against his lips. “I think I’d like to keep kissing. But not just your lips.”

His dimple deepens a bit, giving him a devilish look. “What else do you want to kiss, love?”

I pull his shirt up over his head as I straddle him. He’s so beautiful. I know that’s not what men want to hear, but that’s what he is. Perfect. Gorgeous. Still able to make my heart race with just a look.

Grayson is every fantasy in living form. He is strong, sweet, and funny. To be given another chance to love him is a gift I don’t deserve.

I move down his body slowly, never allowing my lips to leave his skin. “I like this spot,” I say as I swirl my tongue around his nipple. His eyes close, and I move lower. “But I think there are other spots that I’d like to kiss more.”

A throaty moan falls from his lips, and I slide down farther, hooking my fingers in the waistband of his shorts, removing them as well. “Jess,” he says my name, low and gruff.

“Do you want me to kiss you there?” I ask with a coy smile, staring at his thick, hard cock.

“That’s like asking a dying man if he wants to draw another breath.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to stop breathing.” I bring my lips to him, running my tongue around the rim. “Do you feel like you’re dying?”

“You’re definitely killing me.”

Instead of a witty comeback, I take him deep into my mouth. His hips buck up, and then his fingers are in my hair. I bob my head, trying to take him into the back of my throat, wanting him to feel nothing but ecstasy.

His grip tightens, pulling on the strands as I move faster while cupping his balls.

“Jess, baby, stop.” He barely gets the words out between breaths. “Love. I can’t.” The tone is clear that he’s barely hanging on. But I want this.

The power to make him lose it.

The thrill of knowing I’m giving him pleasure and driving him to this point.