Grayson ran his nose up and down my neck, pressing his knee between my legs. When he spoke, his voice was vicious. “And you haven’t fucking earned it.”
He pressed me against the wall, my back biting against the cold winter window, then stepped off.
“Lift up your nightgown. Show me my pussy.”
“But West—”
“Don’t fucking say his name,” he snarled. “Show me my cunt, Snitch. I might not be able to fuck what’s mine, but I can see it. I can see how wet it gets for me.”
The whir of West’s shower running was a clock ticking—but Grayson was a bomb about to go off.
I gripped the fabric of my nightgown, inching it up my thighs.
Grayson’s nostrils flared as my nightgown rose higher, the only sign I had that my Grayson was still in there.
A noise sounded and I froze—was West coming back?
Grayson’s eyes flashed, vicious.
I went all the way up, tugging past my thighs.
He took the lollipop out of his mouth, holding it an inch to the side, examining me. “Poor little wife, really needs to be fucked.”
His cock was an iron bar resting against his muscled thigh. I shifted on my feet, aching. I couldn’t stop picturing it inside me. Its weight. Its thickness. Would he stretch me, tear me, fill me up. It had been so long since Grayson had really fucked me.
He came back to me, pressing one hand above me on the window. The one with the sucker fell to my inner thigh. I was enveloped, caged. He breathed me in. His shirt stuck to his six pack so I could see every cruel flex as he took a ragged breath, as if with each inhale he was barely restraining himself.
I didn’t dare breathe, let alone touch him—afraid to shatter this moment. But then his head dropped to my neck, lips soft and warm on my flesh.
I sighed his name.
He jerked his head up, eyes zeroing on me. “Fuck yourself.”
I sucked in a breath. “What?”
He slid the sticky sucker slowly up my thigh, stopping at my groin. “Slide this sucker inside your cunt, Story.”
The warmth from his lips vanished from my neck at the coldness in his eyes and voice. Yet there was a wildfire blazing behind every icy action; it was the reason I reached down between my thighs.
I wanted the ice to melt.
I wanted him to burn me.
Mesmerized by his gaze, I took hold of the sucker, my hands briefly fluttering over his strong calloused ones.
“Good girl,” he growled.
Shivers ignited at his approval—the first in months. I faintly heard the shower, but it was nothing compared to my beating heart. I wanted more of that, more of his approval heating my lips. So, I slid the wet, sticky, round head inside me, lips parting.
“How does it feel?” he asked.
“Um—”
“Don’t fucking lie.”
His hand hadn’t left my inner thigh, stroking. Gentle. Tormenting.
“Not enough,” I breathed. “It’s not even close to enough. I feel so empty.”
His nostrils flared, eyes locked on my lips. He was so close now, I could almost taste him. He slid his hand up from my inner thigh, curving around my ass, leaving a trail of want and goose bumps.
I was getting mixed up in the sensations. It was torture—punishment, that was what this was. Need. Empty. Aching. Ghosting his touch along my ass, but never going to the spot I needed, having me use a small sucker when I wanted his cock.
His thumb circled my ass and I arched into it.
Yes. There. That.
“Please,” I begged.
“Harder,” he rasped.
I did as he demanded, fucking myself.
In that instant, he jammed his pinky inside my ass. A gasp spiraled out of me. I locked on his eyes—eyes that were locked on me, watching me like he was entering me.
His lips brushed mine. “Does it feel like you have two cocks inside you?”
A twist of heat curled inside my chest, a fishhook attached to my heart and scraping down to my gut and I paused—ashamed.
“Don’t fucking stop.”
Grayson pushed harder into me, his hand above me white at the joints and steaming the glass.
“How about now?” He slid another finger inside me, into my cunt this time, working me along the sucker. “Don’t lie,” he gritted.
“A little,” I admitted on a breath.
A mean grin slid across his lips. “Does it feel like him?”
I froze. “W-what?”
“Did I tell you to stop?” he snarled, and I kept fucking myself as he fucked my ass and cunt harder, working against the pressure of the sucker.
He was creating a fantasy. A dark, twisted fantasy.
“Do you want that, little wife?” Grayson slid a second finger inside my cunt and I nearly purred at him calling me by the endearment. “Do you want two cocks inside you?”
The image assaulted me as he made a V inside me with his two fingers, stretching wide as if to create the sensation of another man.
I had to grip his neck to keep from falling.
I’d never felt so stretched, so full.
“I can feel you getting wetter, Snitch,” he growled, mad. “Too fucking bad. You’ll never get to feel another man stretch you again.”
Good.
I didn’t want that.
This was what I wanted—Grayson. Using me up until I was nothing.
“Never feel anything but me inside you.” Grayson tugged on my ear with his teeth. “I should make you beg at my feet.”
His voice was sandpaper, rough and almost unrecognizable, slipping inside of me and scraping me raw. I was delirious with need, the room spinning. I was buzzed and drunk on him.
“I should make you both beg at my feet.”
I couldn’t say anything, could only make groaning sounds that got stuck in my throat and came out warbled and helpless.
“Are you ashamed? Are you?” He demanded it, words tripping over themselves, like he was fucking hungry for my answer.
“Yes,” I gasped.
It was potent as aged wine, thick in my blood, heady and wrong, and it made everything about this encounter raw and violent and bright. It made me arch harder into his touch.
“Give me your shame. It’s mine. I own it. It belongs to me.”
I groaned as he licked a hot trail up my neck. His lips finally on me. The heat starting to burn.
He was a beast. A monster. A wicked thing.
I was ready to disappear into this vicious fantasy, groaning into his mouth as I felt his fury like a living thing. It boiled me up with him.
“Dance,” he demanded, until the word vibrated inside of me. “Fucking bleed.”
He filled my pussy with a third finger as I fucked myself. His other hand fell from the window to my hip, forcing me against his hard cock, rocking me against him.
I was so close to coming, I could see the wicked edge of the cliff.
“Do you want my cock yet, little wife?”
“Always. Please. Please.” I whined and whimpered against his lips.
“Then tell me your fucking words,” he demanded. “All of them.”
He repeated the words I’d heard over and over again for months. I wanted to give him what he needed, but—
“I have,” I gasped.
And in an instant, he went cold.
He ripped the sucker from my cunt. I expected him to shove it into his mouth, but he pushed it into mine.