Gray's Girl Read online

  “Leigh…please,” she begged, barely recognizing the breathy, needy voice as her own.

  “I’m here, baby,” he promised, sliding from between her legs to sit on the side of the bed. She closed her eyes, trying to control her excitement and breathing as he reached for his pants on the floor. The rustle of foil told her what he was doing. He hadn’t bothered to ask if she was on the pill or otherwise protected; he’d taken it on himself to ensure she was safe. The consideration melted her heart that little bit more.

  He crawled across the bed, big body moving with a sensual grace that took her breath away to bracket her body protectively with his. She looked up, staring into his eyes as he nudged her thighs farther apart and settled over her. Splayed across the bed, hands tied and thighs wide apart for him, she felt like a slave girl displayed for her master, a sacrifice for her dragon, and everything in between. Heat gushed from her again and she whimpered, body throbbing with anticipation.

  The thick head of his cock nudged at her entrance, slipping a little in the slickness there. Holding her gaze, he pressed forward, started to sink into her. Her body parted to accommodate him, the delicate tissues stretching around the broad tip of his shaft.

  Catching her breath, her eyelids started to flutter closed but he growled.

  “No, look at me.” His order was low and rough. “I want to see your eyes as I take you. Know that you know what I’m doing to you.”

  As if she could forget. Biting her lip, she opened her eyes to look at him again, holding his gaze as he sank into her tight pussy inch by thick inch. Her nostrils flared, her channel stretching to capacity, almost to pain at his never-ending slide. He was big, much bigger than any of her previous lovers. Panic hit her as her cunt throbbed in warning. She wouldn’t be able to take him all…

  “Shh, it’s okay, just a little further,” he whispered, pulling back half an inch to press in again. She whimpered, the small respite gone as soon as she registered it. He was splitting her in two, his cock too big for her to take.

  “There. Just breathe, sweetheart; it’ll feel good soon.” His lips caressed her temple with soft kisses. She focused on them, not the throbbing in her core, following the trail of his kisses down her cheek until he reached her mouth. He parted it with a gentle sweep of his tongue, dipping inside to tease hers. Entering and withdrawing before she could get a full taste of his kiss, challenging her to chase him.

  She growled, frustrated by his teasing, and kissed him back, giving him her tongue. Chuckling in the back of his throat, he caught it, sucked on it. And rolled his hips. Pleasure ripped through her. In his teasing the burning pain had receded and now she just felt full. Stuffed to the hilt with his cock. And it felt good. Better than good; it felt fantastic. The pain gone, she was filled with the urge to move, to rub her body against his, the instinct as old as time.

  “God, yeah…” she broke the kiss to gasp. “More, do that again.”

  “With pleasure, sweetheart.” Arms braced on either side of her, he started to move, slow at first but as she moaned in pleasure at the sensations cascading through her, increasing quickly in speed and power.

  Moans and pants fell from her lips as she moved against him, arching her hips as he slammed into her. Her head fell to the cool sheet as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. He didn’t berate her this time, all his energy devoted to taking her with a passion that threatened to break the big bed under them. Each thrust slammed the headboard against the wall, the metal of the frame squeaking as he took her.

  “Fuck, you feel—” He broke off to press hot kisses against the side of her neck. A large hand slid down her thigh, gathering it up and pressing it high against his side. The change in position altered his angle of penetration and she whimpered as he slid impossibly deeper, pressing against nerve endings she hadn’t known she had.

  The tension in her core, already at breaking point, ratcheted up until she was ready to scream. She opened her eyes, caught his with a pleading stare. “Leigh…I need…please.”

  He nodded, expression tight, and thrust into her again. This time he rolled his hips, capturing and grinding her clit between his pelvis and hers. The bundle of nerves throbbed savagely, her pussy clenching tight around his cock in warning.

  He pulled back, the pressure released, and her body exploded with pleasure. A scream was torn from her lips as she came apart, her strong internal muscles clamping over his cock and milking him as she came in hot waves over the thick shaft. She moaned as wave after wave assaulted her, painting her world in sensation and ecstasy as he continued to thrust into her. Faster and harder, his pants tortured until, finally, he slammed into her and stiffened.

  “Oh, God, yeah—Fuck!” His cock jerked savagely, pulsing deep within her body. She whimpered, wiggling against his hard body, eager for it all. He collapsed over her, gathering her in his arms as he came. Their lips brushed each other’s, latched on, and then he was kissing her as though she were the last woman in the world. A desperate, claiming kiss as though he were claiming, branding her as his own. The kiss slowed and he pulled away, burying his face into the side of her neck as his cock stopped pulsing inside her. Soft pants were the only sound in the room as they both recovered. Lassitude washed over her as she lay under him, comforted by the blanket of his warm body, sleepy after the passion they’d expended.

  He reached up and freed her from the headboard, gathering her tight against him as he rolled to bring her on top. She sighed, resting her cheek against his broad chest and liking the feeling of him still inside her.

  “No sleeping,” he warned softly, dropping a kiss onto the top of her head. “I’m nowhere near finished with you yet.”

  Chapter Eight

  The rays of the early morning sun woke Gray from contented slumber. Feeling warm, comfortable, and pleasantly exhausted despite the fact he’d just woken up, he opened his eyes slowly. Then smiled at the feeling of the small woman wrapped around him. Frankie was nestled against his chest, her cheek against his shoulder as her hair fanned over his arm. Her breath washed over his skin, teasing him as a gentle purr rose from her.

  She snored. His lips quirked. His perfect woman snored; it was so cute.

  Turning slightly, he checked the clock at the side of the bed. Training was late today given the dinner last night, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t show, much as he wanted to fuck it off and stay here in bed all day with Frankie. Relief filled him as he read the figures on the digital display. Plenty of time. He didn’t need to rush.

  A sigh of contentment rumbling through him, he snuggled down in the warm covers and pulled Frankie closer. Dropping a kiss on top of her head, he lay his head back on the pillows and closed his eyes for a while. Snuggles in bed in the morning—when did he get so lucky?

  Tiredness dragged at him a little but at the same time he’d never felt more energized. He’d kept her up most of the night, unable to get enough of her, of her delectable body and her open, easy responses. She had been…was…wonderful, and the trust shining in her dark eyes, even when he’d tied her up, had rocked him to the core.

  At the thought, his cock rose to attention from its normal morning half-mast. He ignored it. No way was he waking her yet. He’d finally let her rest an hour or so ago, and she needed her sleep because he planned to do it all again tonight. She wouldn’t be impressed if she was too tired to work next week, although that didn’t bother him if she didn’t work. He’d happily keep her naked and tied to his bed for the foreseeable future.

  Groaning, he pressed another kiss to her temple and gently extricated himself. If he stayed here much longer he was going to wake her up, wear her out more, and be late for practice. Only willpower took him away from the bed and quickly he took care of business before pulling his discarded clothes on.

  Pausing as he did up his shirt, he watched her for a long moment. She was spread out, a curvy and tempting starfish over the bed. The sheet fluttered with the gentle rise and fall of her breathing and her serene expression m
ade him smile again. What did angels dream about?

  Tucking the shirt into his pants, he leaned down and kissed her cheek, careful not to wake her. A wave of protectiveness washed over him. The need to pull her into his arms and forget about everything but looking after her took him by surprise. He’d respected all the women he’d had relationships with in the past and wouldn’t have done anything to hurt them, but this level…this need to ensure a woman’s safety was new.

  Shaking his head, he laughed at himself. One night and he was going all caveman on her. Frankie had managed to look after herself for long enough, in the dangerous wilds of London, no less; she didn’t need a self-appointed white knight looking out for her. Not until she gave him permission to, at least; then he was going to be all over it like a bad rash.

  Allowing himself one more kiss, he left the bedroom and walked through the apartment quickly. There was nothing to leave a note with in view and he didn’t feel right rifling through her belongings to find something. Slipping his phone from his phone, he composed a quick text as he left, closing the front door firmly behind him.

  Hey Doll, had to head to training b4 u woke up. Call me, I need to see u 2night. L—

  He paused in debate, his thumb hovering over the keypad. Should he add a kiss…was that manly? Fuck it. He’d spent half the night screwing her brains out; if he hadn’t proved he was a man by now, he was never going to. After adding two x’s, he hit send and pushed the front door of the building open. He needed to call a taxi.

  Luck was with him as one chose that moment to pull up and disgorge two passengers with carry-ons onto the pavement. Just back from the airport by the look of things. He waited as they fussed about the rear of the car, retrieving two heavy suitcases, and signaled his interest at a ride when the man caught his eye.

  A deep sigh expanded his chest as he savored the morning air. Life was good. No, life was pretty fucking great. He’d had a great night, would have a great night tonight, and Frankie was great. Everything was fantastic. Bloody fantastic—

  He paused as he slipped his phone back into his pocket, the prickle of awareness between his shoulder blades warning him that someone was watching him. Looking up, he scanned his surroundings. No one. The street was empty of people, lined either side with cars. No rush hour this morning, no work for most, except dumb-ass rugby players who needed to work their asses off as a small psychopathic coach yelled his lungs out at them.

  “Where to, mate?” the taxi driver asked, holding the door open.

  “Regent buildings, Stanley Court on Victoria Quay. Then hang for a moment while I grab some clothes and take me over to Charnwood Road?”

  “No problem, get in.”

  Gray pushed off from his perch against a lamppost to slide into the backseat. Once there, he dropped his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. The perfume of the previous passenger reminded him of Frankie’s. His body reacted immediately, violently, his cock punching a tent against the crotch of his crumpled trousers. Already he was counting the hours until he could see her again.

  God, he had it bad.

  * * *

  “Thanks, mate. You’re a star.”

  An hour later he thanked the taxi driver, tapping the top of the vehicle as he shut the door. He didn’t watch it drive off, instead slung his bag over his shoulder and headed through the players’ entrance. Thoughts of Frankie weren’t far away as he dumped his bag in his locker, changed his boots, and headed up to the pitch.

  He wasn’t late as such but the rest of the players were already stretching or warming up and Butler clocked his presence as soon as Gray stepped onto the pitch. He sighed as the coach tapped his watch. Bollocks, he’d hoped to slip into the back of the pack unnoticed. Luck would be a fine thing.

  Nodding and trying to look apologetic, he headed over to stretch, automatically smiling as Damon detached himself from the group running around the field and trotted over. Not unusual; the two often stretched and ran together despite the fact Gray was a forward and Damon a back, so he didn’t think anything of it.

  He certainly didn’t expect the vicious right hook. Pain exploded as Damon’s fist slammed into the side of his face, rattling some teeth and filling his mouth with the copper tang of blood. Off balance, he went down, rolling back up to his feet to look at the smaller guy in confusion.

  “Got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning or just felt like channeling Rocky?” he asked, and spat the blood filling his mouth onto the side of the pitch. A quick sweep of his tongue revealed the damage. A small cut on the inside of his cheek.

  “Fuck off, you. That’s for sleeping with my sister!” Damon snarled and wound his fist back for a second go. Quick on his feet despite his size, Gray made sure to stay out of reach, hands out in a placating gesture. Damon had a punch that could fell a pit pony, and he liked his teeth where they were, thank you very much.

  “I dunno why you’ve got your knickers in a twist. I told you last night, if she showed any interest then that’s what’d happen. She showed interest; I took her home.”

  Already they were attracting attention, half the team sprinting over the pitch. Bryant and Vicky reached them first, the two men wrapping Damon up in case he swung for Gray again.

  “You wanker, I told you she wasn’t some one-night stand!” Damon struggled against the two men holding him, but already he’d started to calm down. His temper was volatile, flared brightly but burned out just as quick.

  “Crap, you shagged Cross’s sister? Lucky bastard, she’s hot.”

  Gray shot the smaller of the men holding Damon a dark look.

  “Not helping, Steve. Really not helping.” He closed in, wrapped his hand around the back of Damon’s corded neck to look him in the eye. “I promise. She ain’t a one-night stand.”

  Damon glared back, but his ire was gone. “You hurt her, I’ll have your guts for garters.”

  “Mate, I’d hand you the knife,” Gray promised softly, and nodded to the two men holding Damon. They let him go slowly, just in case he should take a swing for Gray again.

  He didn’t, instead sighing and grabbing Gray into a one-armed hug, slapping him across the back.

  “Sorry about that, mate; talking about it’s one thing, but when it actually happens…” He shrugged. “It’s different, you know? You okay? I haven’t ruined your smile, have I?”

  “I can understand that.” Gray rolled his neck and swept the inside of his cheek again. “Nah, I’m still as gorgeous as ever.”

  “Only you.” Damon chuckled, then laughed, his face creased with laugh lines as a couple of the coaches trotted over. “It’s okay, guys, we’re done. Just a little misunderstanding.”

  But the concerned look on the first guy’s face didn’t dissipate at the assurance. His expression was grim, tension running through his body. Instinctively both Gray and Damon turned. Something was wrong.

  “Cross, get your kit. We just got a call; your sister’s in hospital. Her place went up. Fire brigade just pulled her out.”

  * * *

  Frankie was hurt.

  Gray’s heart pounded as they drove at high speed across town headed for the hospital. The coach, Joe, swore at a jam ahead and took a sharp right turn.

  “Christ, Joe, we’d like to get there in one piece,” Damon snapped as he and Gray were plastered against the side of the car. Gray gritted his teeth, hanging onto the over-door handle as they straightened. It was a small town car and he was in the back, so he’d had to fold himself virtually in half to get in. His knees were up around his ears, and he knew what Schrödinger’s cat felt like, cooped up in that little box. He didn’t care, as long as they got to the hospital.

  “One piece or fast. I didn’t have to do this, you know?” Joe threw back as he gunned the engine.

  “I know, mate. Thanks,” Gray broke in, reaching forward to drop a hand on Damon’s shoulder in warning. Knowing that Gray had arrived by taxi and that Damon was in no fit state to get behind the wheel of a car, Joe had offere
d to take them to the hospital.

  “Yeah, thanks for this. I appreciate it,” Damon added, his voice tight with a strain Gray could identify with. The same tension and fear rolled through him as the hospital came into sight. Within minutes, Joe pulled the car to a stop as near to the entrance as he could get.

  “Sorry guys, no spaces to park.” He turned to look at them. “You go, give the club a call when you need picking up, okay? I hope she’s okay.”

  “Cheers, me too.” Damon was out of the car like a shot, leaving Gray to fight his way clear of the tiny backseat.

  “Thanks, Joe. Catch you later,” he said as he slammed the door of the coach’s car shut and headed off across the car park after Damon. The place was packed but the crowds parted like water in the face of two men. On the pitch, Damon was small, but in the real world, he was built like a brick shit house, and he could shift.

  “Coming through,” he yelled as they reached the double doors for Accident and Emergency. Gray nearly plowed into the back of him as he slowed under security’s stern gaze, and together the two walked to the reception desk. It was a speed-walk granted, but they weren’t running. Quite.

  The smell hit him first. That sickly clean disinfectant mixed with rubbing alcohol smell that crawled inside his nose and lingered. Sucking in a deep breath, he tried to calm his nerves. The last time he’d been in a hospital had been when his mum died. Although it had been a blessing after a hard and painful year, he still associated the place with losing her. Since then, he avoided the places like the plague, dislike becoming a mild phobia. It was as embarrassing as hell. Him. Big L, the scourge of the pitch, was scared of hospitals.

  There was a small group in front of them. Two couples and an older woman with a child holding a bloody rag to his nose. Gray managed a small smile of sympathy. He’d suffered nosebleeds as a kid. Seemed the slightest knock would set one off, until the doctor had diagnosed a weak vein in his nose and he’d had it cauterized. It still bled when he pushed himself too much during a match, but nothing like the torrents he’d suffered before the surgery.