Grant leaned forward, and his hands went to the backs of her thighs, pressing her down a bit more. “It’s simple. I’m going to lick you and play with this piercing until you scream.”
And he gave her a wicked, wicked smile.
She might have trembled a little at the sight of it. He leaned in and did no more than breathe close to her skin, and she shivered madly. “I think I like this game.”
“I think you will,” Grant agreed, and his mouth moved to the mound of her sex. As she watched in fascination, his tongue dipped between the lips of her pu**y and slicked over her piercing and her clit.
She moaned. Oh God, that was erotic. Both the touch and the fact that she was watching all of this from her vantage point was really, really hot. She wanted to put her hands on his head and direct him, but she had to hold her legs back.
Grant nuzzled in, moving deeper, and his tongue circled her piercing and her clit. He experimented a little, pinching her flesh in a way that caused her piercing to rub perfectly against her clit, and then began to lick again, flicking and caressing at that sensitive bud of flesh.
Her body, still twitching from the last orgasm, began to quake with need. And the more she trembled, the faster he seemed to lick, clearly relishing her response. Brenna cried out as the intensity of his attentions grew more fierce, and she began to give small jerks of her h*ps in response, whimpering each time. She wanted to pull away; she wanted to push against his mouth. He was making low sounds of pleasure in his throat as well, as if he loved the taste of her.
One finger slid deep into her pu**y, and he curled it, stroking her from inside.
“Grant, oh damn. I love it when you touch me like that,” Brenna moaned, unable to take her eyes off his mouth devouring her, fascinated by the occasional flash of her piercing, the constant slicking of his tongue. “It’s almost too much.”
“I’ll stop when you scream,” he murmured, and she felt every movement of his lips against her flesh, which caused her to be wracked with an entirely new set of shudders.
“I’m a lot of things, baby, but I’m not a screamer,” Brenna told him breathlessly.
“That remains to be seen,” Grant said, and he was so smug with purpose that she was fascinated. “But I think you’re trying to distract me, aren’t you?”
“Never.”
“Mmm.” He pinched the flesh around her piercing again, making it push against her cl*t once more. When she moaned and wriggled in response, he began to flick his tongue over her again, the curled finger working inside her pu**y.
She came a moment later, shattering, her leg muscles tightening so hard that she thought her entire body would snap. But the only sound she made was a soft gurgle in the back of her throat that was more of a choked cry than a real, honest-to-goodness scream.
“Not quite,” Grant said, seemingly pleased at her response. “Guess we’ll have to try again.”
And she moaned as he bent over her flesh again.
The Make Brenna Scream game lasted for about fifteen minutes longer. By that time, she was insensible with desire, had orgasmed twice more, and was twitching every time he touched her. The last time she came, she came so hard that a rush of liquid flooded out of her, and Grant seemed even more pleased at eliciting that response from her. She’d screamed with that last orgasm, though, and screamed his name to boot, which seemed to satisfy Grant immensely.
After that? She’d been too tired and sleepy to protest when he’d dragged her into the shower and supported her as she cleaned off. He’d tenderly toweled her dry and then hauled her to bed, and she could have sworn that he’d kissed her temple before drifting off to sleep.
That was entirely too possessive of him, she’d decided. And she’d tell him so. Tomorrow, when she had the energy. Brenna rolled over and propped her head against Grant’s chest and fell asleep.
• • •
When Brenna woke up, she was alone in Grant’s bed. She yawned and stretched and glanced around for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. Huh. Wasn’t like him. She shrugged it off. He was probably giving her the space she wanted, and she liked that. Rifling through his drawers, she found a pair of boxers and a sports T-shirt and pulled them on. Then, still yawning, she left his cabin and headed for the main lodge, since it was a work day.
After all, just because she was having casual sex with the boss didn’t mean that she didn’t have to work.
Brenna padded into the main lodge and went straight for the kitchen, skirting the living room. She was starving, and she was pretty sure there was some cereal somewhere in one of the cabinets, since Beth Ann insisted on having normal breakfasts and thought Brenna should, too. Sure enough, there was a box of whole grain something or other. Brenna opened the box and took a handful of cereal directly from it and popped it into her mouth. Then she went to the fridge, drank some milk directly from the carton, and paused.
It sure was quiet for a work day. She glanced at the clock. Seven fifty-eight. That meant the guys should have been coming by, but it was too quiet. Carton of milk still in hand, Brenna took another drink and headed out into the living area of the lodge that also functioned as the main office.
Three sets of eyes stared back at her.
Colt. Dane. And the new guy, who sat on the couch with his arms crossed. Grant and his sister were nowhere to be seen. And Colt and Dane were frowning at her in a major way.
Brenna took another swig of milk. “Morning.”
Dane made a face and leapt up from his seat to rescue the carton of milk from her. “Don’t drink straight out of the carton, Brenna. That’s nasty. We all drink that milk.”
“Why is it nasty?” she protested.
Dane yanked the milk carton from her hand and headed to the kitchen with it. “We don’t know where your mouth has been,” he called behind him.
“Or do we?” Colt said in a dry voice, giving her a look of reproach.
She rolled her eyes and headed to her desk. “I take it Pop’s been here already? That man gossips more than a school girl.”
“Well,” Colt drawled. “It’s not every day that two people who profess to hate each other start shacking up.”
“We’re not shacking up,” she told him, exasperated. Brenna moved to the end of the couch, near where Colt sat, and thumped down. “Elise needed to borrow my blankets, so I slept over at Grant’s.”
“And he requires kissing before letting you use one of his pillows?”
She scowled at him. “Exactly how much did Pop tell you?” She’d known that they’d be talking about it this morning. “And where’s Grant, anyhow?”