I was delirious with him, with his ruthless rhythm.
He was marking me. Owning me.
“You don’t have a similar piece, you are my piece,” he snarled against my flesh. “Now come on my cock, dirty nun. Your tight ass is begging to squeeze me.”
He pushed against my lower stomach as he thrust deep inside my ass.
And I saw stars.
The world around me shattered, and then all I knew was rolling, gasping waves of pleasure. Deep, aching waves I think might destroy me.
“Scream,” Grayson demanded. “Fucking scream, little nun. You own this house.” Thrust. “You own me.” Thrust. “Fucking scream.”
The great chandelier blurred with his thrusts. I think I screamed, by the way my throat ached. I had a vague view of Grayson’s warm hand closing over mine as I clawed at the cold marble.
“You are so goddamn perfect when you come,” he murmured against my flesh. “My perfect little wife. You only come for me.”
His sweet words licked my ear just like the very first time Grayson took me, tethering me as I came. This orgasm felt different. Marked. As if Grayson was holding a hand to my soul, bruising the name Grayson Crowne forever and indelibly with his thumbprint.
“I will never let you go again,” he continued. “Never lose you again. You don’t fucking bleed for anyone else, ever again. You bleed only for me.”
Because in our twisted fairy tale, the prince slays the princess, and the princess begs to bleed for the prince.
Seventy-Six
STORY
Grayson and I lay on the floor, and I was grateful for the cold marble. I was hot and sticky with him. He ran his finger along my velvety-soft stretch marks, kissing softly as he went.
“You don’t know how hard these make me. Seeing the proof you carried my baby.” His eyes darted to mine, heavy-lidded. “I’d like to fill you with more, paint you with more. Would you like that?”
I can’t do anything but nod, words tangled in lust.
He grinned, cocky and predatory. He slowly slid up my body, muscles bunching with the effort. Morning light slashed unevenly across his body, highlighting the dimples in his ass, the perfect muscles of his back and shoulders.
I swallowed when he settled on top of me, his lips above mine. This was the Grayson Crowne I remembered. Not just the confidence to lay naked in the middle of Crowne Hall, but with a huge smile, golden body gleaming in the sun.
Freed.
Would I ever get used to him?
He dragged a finger down my nose. “I want to give you a huge wedding. I want the world to know you’re mine.”
He played with my lower lip, twisting it, twisting me up. He was already hard again, bruising my hip.
“Little wife?” he prodded.
“I…” Another swallow, and he tilted his head, a soft smile on his face at my stuttering. “I think the world is pretty well aware. What with my confession, and the video. Anyway, don’t you want a small wedding?”
His eyes went dark. “Not with you.”
I blinked. “I’ll marry you anywhere, Grayson.”
He grinned, that big, Grayson smile I lived for, then pressed a deep, slow kiss to my lips.
“So…” I sighed against his mouth. “Are all the coins finally accounted for?”
Grayson palmed my cunt, but nothing more. I groaned, arching into him.
“The triplets have three,” he said against my shoulder, still massaging my pussy. “Lottie has the one you gave her. And one went to the DA to keep my grandfather in jail.”
I jerked up. “Three of them are going to the St. Germaines? Is that okay?”
“I don’t give a shit. I’m done chasing coins.” He dragged me back down to him, then paused. “You were right, you know.”
I tilted my head.
“I wasn’t going to be at peace until I spoke to them. Until I fixed that jagged piece inside me. I think we’ll see the St. Germaines around a bit more.”
I smiled. “Good.”
He pulled me back into a kiss.
“Wait—” I pulled back, but Grayson went right back for my lips. “This is important,” I sighed into his mouth. “I still don’t know how West got the final coin.”
Grayson paused. “You, little wife.”
“Me?” I blinked. “What?”
Grayson stood off the floor, giving me his hand. “This is a conversation better had with clothes on…” He raked his hot gaze up and down my body. “Unfortunately.”
Grayson gave me his shirt, and then we went to Gemma.
“The house is so…empty,” I said.
“Anyone who had even a remote allegiance to my grandfather or the du Lacs is gone.”
“The servants who helped me?”
He nodded. “They’re left, but everyone else…well, we’ll have to hire new…everyone.”
The crystal chandelier refracted on the wall. “We can rewrite the story of Crowne Hall.”
When we found Gemma, she had Sonnet propped up on her bed, surrounded by a mountain of pillows—in the midst of putting lipstick on her.
“Gemma, what the hell are you doing?” Grayson yanked Sonnet out of her reach. “She’s barely a month old.”
Gemma rolled her eyes. “You’re never too young to learn your perfect shade.”
Grayson closed his eyes, exhaling through his nostrils.
“Thank you,” he gritted, like it hurt to say. “For watching her.”
She gave us a thumbs-up, face twisted in sarcasm.
Gray held Sonnet the entire way back to his wing. Shirtless, muscles flexing as he walked, he reminded me of some old king finished with battle. As she slept in his arms, he held her with a powerful protection.
He held her even as he rooted around his drawer for whatever he had to show me. My stomach twisted in all kinds of delicious knots. I never thought I’d get this moment. Grayson holding our child, Sonnet curled into his bare bicep, perfectly happy.
He finally found what he was looking for, handing it to me.
I took it. “A journal?”
“It was under my pillow. I think West left it on purpose.”
Just like that, my gut dropped. The fuzzy warm feeling I had vanished. I didn’t realize my knees had gone weak, until Gray had gripped my bicep, helping me to sit on the couch.
I gripped the leather. “Did you read it?”
He nodded. “No secrets, little wife. If you don’t want to read it, I understand. It was clearly left by him, so I’m not sure if his motives were anything other than selfish. But…”
I lifted my eyes to his.
“It will give you insight,” he said. “Into everything.”
I flipped to the first page.
I have spent my time in Crowne Hall searching under every poem…
As I read further down the page, my anger grew and evolved into a living thing. I remembered West’s curiosity in Scotland, one I’d discounted for manipulation of my heart.
It had been more.
So. Much. More.
I took a breath, remembering the odd nighttime songs, West absent from bed. He’d been looking for the coin. I told Gray the story, how curious West had been, how the birds sung in the night.