"Go get it yourself, Grayson." You undressed, anxious to bathe in the warmth of a shower. It's practically freezing throughout the house, and you wanted something that'll warm you up inside and out, as well as some seclusion from everything.
Grayson was in a mood all day, for some odd reason, and all he wanted to do was lay in bed and binge some newer movies with you. At least something to pass the time with.
But instead, you wanted to read a book beside the crackling fireplace, cozied up with a blanket and wool socks, and a warm coffee at the table beside you. It was that kinda day, the sun shielded with gloomy dark clouds and a certain haze that drifted through the house.
Your favorite weather.
But Grayson was a selfish man, a growing jealousy towards your love for reading instead of you sacrificing that time to cuddle him endlessly. He loved laying his head across your tummy, so that you’d play with his hair and your fragrance with drift around him sweetly. But the both of you were as equally stubborn as the other, and neither would subside.
You turned the shower-head on, letting the water heat up before submerging yourself beneath the stream. It felt incredibly nice, a comfort in which you hadn’t known you were in desperate need of. You hummed a little song, running your hands through your hair to wet each strand. You were humming a little tune when a knock at the door sounded, and you sighed.
"What, Grayson?" You kept your eyes closed, but your voice was tainted with annoyance, a rarity in this household.
You heard the door click, not even bothering to look over at him entering. You had guessed that he'd want to come in and talk to you, maybe apologize for his mood and hopefully join you if your argument went smooth.
"Better fix the attitude princess." You heard the plop of his clothing as it hit the floor, and you finally opened your eyes for a peak. He stood there in all his glory, his arms crossed and a cruel expression on his face.
"It's not me, it's your little mood you've had all day, Grayson." You covered yourself slightly, not wanting him to see your intimate parts if he was gonna be such an asshole.
It happened fast.
First, he tore open the shower door, wrapped his meaty hand around your neck, and slammed you against the tiled wall; not too terribly hard, but enough to know he was downright furious.
"Can't fucking listen to directions when I give them to you, can you?" It was rhetoric, but you made it a point to roll your eyes extra dramatic. That way, he'd see how much of an "attitude" you could really have.
"Knees." His tone was dead cold, and you complied urgently, dropping down with the help of his grasp around your neck. He slipped his hand from below your chin to up into your hair, grabbing a handful and pulling down to make you face upward at him.
"Anything else you wanna add before I fuck your throat sore?" Your cheeks burned as you shook your head no, breathing in a deep sigh as you readied yourself for the excursion about to take place.
"Then suck, baby." He pulled your hair tighter, your eyes drifting back to his hardened member. Your body shuddered frantically, an arousal beginning to pool from the depths of your cavern. With a smirk, you wrapped your hot lips around his swollen tip, suctioning it and taking his cock deeper and deliberately slow to anger him.
His placed his free hand upon the wall behind you to support himself whilst you led both of your hands to his trembling, muscular thighs. His breathing became unsteady, much like your’s as you hollowed your cheeks around him. He had his head thrown back, his hips involuntarily shifting his cock roughly down your throat and your blissful hums vibrated around his shaft.
You weren’t hardly half way down his length when he murmured for you to speed up and take him even further.
But of course, you didn’t listen.
Instead, you slipped your mouth off with a pop! and gave him an innocent grin. He looked down at you, confused as hell as you stood up from your tender knees. You gave his lips a quick, soft kiss before opening the shower door to leave.
“What are you doing?” His brows were furrowed and he watched as you stepped into a towel with a satisfied expression across your face.
“Grayson, darling,” you cooed, “bad boys don’t get orgasms…”
