Every time he spoke, his words vibrated against my pussy, the stubble on his jaw providing a delicious, distracting friction.
“You…” My words disappeared into a moan. I could barely think, let alone form a sentence as he teased my pussy with his mouth. I don’t think he meant to torment me—his willpower was cracking too.
“You said you couldn’t fuck me because I had secrets,” I breathed. “You know all my secrets. Fuck me.”
I leaned all the way onto him, onto his hot, hungry mouth. “Only you can give me this. Cover every inch of me in bruises and I’ll beg for more.” His mouth grew hungrier and hotter with my words. “Fuck him out of me or there will always be a piece of him stuck inside there.”
His eyes grew vicious, wild, and then he sucked my clit so hard I saw stars. I gripped the headboard for support, arms shaking.
“Rip him out of me. Please.”
He broke off for a breath, biting my inner thighs. “You don’t know what it does to me to hear you beg like that, Snitch.”
“Please,” I said again. “You know how much I need this. You’ve read all my letters.”
I reached behind, sliding my palm along his cock. Rock-hard. I could feel every tapered, thick outline through his jeans.
He gripped my hand. “There’s time.”
“What if there isn’t—”
“There’s time. This is it. This is our happily ever after. We’re free of West, and Lottie—” He broke off when saying her name, jaw clenched. “My grandfather will have to accept you as carrying the heir. Lottie has nothing, the du Lacs have nothing. He’d be an idiot to keep them in the family. So be still.”
“I want your cock. You said you’d fuck me—”
“I said I’d take care of you. And I will. Now shut the fuck up and let me.” His words vanished into a throat-aching growl, his head disappearing between my thighs.
And I let him take care of me.
Fifty-Six
STORY
“I like the name Sonnet for a girl,” he said.
Grayson trailed his fingers over my rounded belly, eyes soft. I spent a week lying in Grayson’s bed. It was quiet in Crowne Hall, only the soft early summer wind our melody.
Grayson promised with Lottie’s announcement we would be left alone, and I wondered if this really was happily ever after.
Being left alone to just…be.
It felt like there was still an elephant between us. Four coin-shaped elephants.
Behind Grayson, the sky smudged iron as the sun rose into the sky. I would never get tired of this, never get used to it.
“But it could be a boy,” he said, absently thumbing my shoulder.
“We’d know if you let me check the sex—oh.”
“Dickinson…” he wondered, then shook his head. “Everyone at boarding school will have a fucking field day with that.”
“Grayson,” I said.
“Keats… Keats Crowne,” he mused, rubbing my shoulder up and down.
“Grayson.”
“Whitman?” he wondered aloud, lost in his fantasy.
“Grayson!” I yelled.
“What?” His eyes focused on me.
“My water just broke.”
Our eyes locked, and I saw the gears in his head stop working. All at once he jumped out of bed.
In the corner of the room, we’d prepared a leather bag for this occasion. He tossed it to the center of the room while I hobbled out of bed. There were no guards to call, no car to call, because we still didn’t trust anyone.
So I watched Grayson pace one side of the room, stop abruptly, then pace the other as if suddenly remembering a more important thought. While he did that, I went and grabbed everything else we needed.
As if suddenly remembering I existed, Grayson jerked his head to me. He rushed back to me, gripping my face between his hands, then crushed his lips to mine.
His kiss was consuming, breath stealing, thumbs digging into my skull.
I forgot where I was.
Forgot I was having a fucking baby.
Foreheads pressed, Grayson whispered, “We’re having a baby, Snitch.”
I smiled. “We’re having a baby.”
GRAY
“I’m going to change—”
“No time,” I cut her off.
“I’m not going to the hospital in a wet nightgown, Grayson. There’s time.”
I rubbed my forehead, nostrils flared. “I’ll get it, you sit down.”
With a hand on her lower back, she made her way back to my bed.
I went to the walk-in, but paused at the sound of guttural screaming, flowing over the railing. It sounded like it was coming from Lottie’s part of my wing.
I peered over the railing. All the du Lacs had been kicked out. There was no way she could still be here…
“Story?” I called as I went to the stairs, eyes on the open door.
“Yeah?” she called back.
I knew I had to check, as dread wove inky through my veins.
“Are you okay for five minutes?”
“Contractions haven’t started yet.”
I pushed the door open into Lottie’s side of the wing. My worst fucking fear confirmed by the shadow on the floor, sitting against the back of the couch. Staring out at the ocean.
“Why the hell are you still here?”
She looked over her shoulder. Her lips cracked with dehydration, hair wild and frazzled; she was in the same satin pajamas from her baby shower.
“They won’t let me leave.”
“What do you mean they won’t let you leave? Your mom and dad are gone.”
She stared at me like I was insane. “If I give birth here, married to you, then the world keeps on spinning…and spinning…and spinning…”
Fear was wine. My vision blurring, the room slimming. It was the ominous hand clutching my chest, the grip that hadn’t dissipated after West’s words, slowly curled tighter around my heart.
“Have you been here this whole time?”
Lottie groaned a moment later. I nearly opened my mouth to demand her to tell me what was wrong, when I saw. Water pooling between her legs onto the hardwood, reflecting the white sky outside.
I stumbled back. “Holy shit.”
Lottie jerked her head to mine. “It’s nothing. Go away.”
“You’re in labor?” I eyed her like it was a trick.
“No!” Her face contorted and she groaned into her hands. “This is all wrong. I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this. I want all of this to go away.”
“You’re lying. Again. Your entire fucking family is supposed to be gone.”
She groaned. “It’s not up to me. I didn’t choose this. I don’t ever choose anything.”
“Who the fuck else is here?”
Lottie’s eyes slowly met mine. “I don’t know.”
The sense of dread that washed over me was like the time I went swimming in December. But the slow numbing started from an icy cold drip in my soul.
She wasn’t safe.
Something slammed against Lottie’s door, like an open-fisted knock.