But there was no other word for the sensation. Grayson's mouth was hot and demanding. His tongue was cleverly swirling and stroking. Within moments of contact, Neville was reduced to a writhing, gasping mess against the expensive sheets.
"Gray—Grayson—I'm going to—"
His bound hands tangled uselessly in dark hair, but were well-received as Grayson groan of approval. Neville was pushed to the edge as he gripped Grayson's hair tightly.
"Let go," Grayson commanded, and the world went white.
"Fuck—"
He came with a cry he couldn't quite muffle, his whole body seizing as pleasure whited out his vision. Wave after wave crashed through him, pulled along by Grayson's mouth, which didn't stop until Neville was boneless and trembling on the ruined sheets.
Neville couldn't tell anymore, couldn't think anymore. Even through the fog of sensation, he could see Grayson's fascinated eyes. It was the hottest thing Neville had ever seen.
