Chapter 85
JESSICA
A sigh slips from my lips–soft, unguarded. My hips shift on instinct, chasing something solid, something to press the ache away. My thighs slide together, slick and restless, and the sheets cling to my skin like heat has melted me into the mattress.
Then–A lick. Slow. Warm. Trailing right over my nipple. My breath catches.
Teeth graze me. A soft bite. Like he’s claiming what he already knows is his.
My back arches, traitorous. My legs spread, begging. A moan–broken and bitten down–escapes before I can lock it behind my teeth.
And then it hits me.
This isn’t a dream.
Dreams don’t come with breath this hot. With hands this big, this rough, this familiar. Dreams don’t make your whole body throb with memory.
I freeze.
My eyes fly open, lashes clumped with sweat. Darkness. The scent of him–feral, earthy, unmistakable–floods me before sight. does. That scént. That goddamn scent.
Grayson.
His name slams into my chest like a fucking curse. I suck in a breath, sharp enough to cut my lungs. My brain screams at my limbs to move, to push, to scream–but I’m melting. Failing.
His mouth is still on me. Licking. Sucking. Drawing circles around my nipple like it’s his favorite thing he almost forgot he owned.
I whimper again. Louder this time. He groans against me like he heard it and liked it.
“Grayson,” I rasp. It comes out cracked. Weak. Like I don’t mean it.
He kisses up my chest, past my collarbone, tongue lazy, cruel. “Morning, baby.”
I grab his wrist, but it’s like trying to stop a flood with my fingers. His body is everywhere. On top of me. Inside me. In my fucking
head.
“You’re back,” I whisper, reaching for his face.
Grayson’s mouth drags up my throat. “Miss me?” he mutters against my jaw before he continues showering kisses there. I’m not really dreaming am I?
My nails bite into his shoulders–I don’t even know if I’m pushing him off or dragging him closer. Maybe both. “You left me.” I gasp. “Like I was nothing.”
He pauses–just for a breath. His hand flexes against my thigh. Then his mouth is on me again, rougher this time. Possessive. Like he’s answering me with his teeth.
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” he growls, mouth dragging over my chest like a man starved. “I don’t know how to fix it. I just–1
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can’t stay away from you.”
He kisses me–finally, fully–like he’s trying to erase every second we spent apart with his tongue. It’s rough. Desperate. Too much. His hands are under my thighs, gripping my ass, dragging me closer like he’s starving for it. Like I’m his last f*cking meal.
I feel him–hard, hot, pulsing through his boxers–and it hits me like a slap.
“I missed you,” he breathes into my mouth, voice cracked and wrecked. “Goddess, I missed this. Missed you.”
That’s when I snap.
I shove at his chest. Hard. My breath’s ragged, my lips swollen, thighs still shaking from the way he held me. “You don’t get to say that,” I hiss, heart slamming like a fist in my ribs.
His eyes flash–hurt, hungry, desperate. He doesn’t back off.
“If*cked up.” His voice is low, strained. “But I still think this is stupid.”
“You think this is stupid?” I snap, pushing him again–hard, this time. “Then what the fuck are you doing here? To rub it in?”
My voice breaks, but my hands won’t stop shaking.
Grayson catches my wrists. “I’m having a hard time processing your not my mate Jess. What do you want me to do?”
“Then what are you doing here? Huh? To remind me I’m not yours? Rub it in?”
“I don’t know how to breathe without you, Jess,” he spits, forehead crashes against mine. “I hate that you’re not mine. I fucking hate it. So tell me–how the fuck am I supposed to stay away?”
I’m shaking–because his thigh’s between mine and I can feel everything. The heat. The pressure. My panties sticking to me. I can’t breathe. Fuck. He’s hard–pressed right against me. I feel the twitch of it through his jeans. And I’m soaked. I’m so fucking soaked I could cry.
“Grayson,” I whisper, voice breaking. “Stop moving. We’re talking!”
His mouth slams into rnine–wild, angry, too much tongue. I moan. Loud. Shameless. My thighs clamp around his. I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. Grayson has me–he fucking has me–and I think I want him to break me.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
His hand drags up my thigh, knuckles rough. He palms between my legs, cups me through the soaked cotton, and lets out this shuddering breath against my skin.
“You feel that?” he rasps. “That’s mine, Jess. That’s fucking mine.”
I’m choking. Panting. I can’t even push him away because my hips are rolling up to meet him, desperate and pathetic.
“Grayson–please-”
He snarls–literally snarls–and yanks my shirt up like it pissed him off. The fabric bunches under my arms. I’m half–naked, panting, and his mouth is everywhere–wet, open, devouring. My sternum. My ribs. The space right beneath my breast.
His hips slam down and I feel it–him, thick and hard and grinding right against me..
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Chapter 85
“Oh my–fuck–Grayson-”
I can’t.
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I can’t even think. My panties are soaked, sticking to me like they’re part of my skin. And every time he moves–that pressure. Right on my clit. Over and over like he’s trying to ruin me.
My legs twitch.
My body jerks.
I’m not doing it. He’s doing it. He’s making me.
“You’re gonna come just like this?” he growls against my neck. “Huh? Just from me humping you like a fucking animal?”
I moan–loud. I can’t lie.
Because yes.
Yes, I am. I’m gonna-
“Fuck–Grayson-”
My mouth falls open. My spine bows. My fingers curl into his shirt and I scream–choked, sharp, ruined–right against his shoulder.
It hits me like a wave of fire.
I don’t even know what’s happening anymore.
Just heat. Just slick. Just him.
I’m shaking.
Hard.
Like–fuck. I can’t feel my fingers.
My whole body’s twitching in these little aftershocks, like my nerves don’t know it’s over yet. My chest keeps rising too fast, like! forgot how to breathe.
“Grayson,” I whisper, but it’s just air. I don’t even know why I said his name.
His weight is still over me. Still between my legs. His forehead drops to my shoulder. We’re both drenched. Sweat. Spit. Me.
God. I came from that. From grinding. From him barely touching me.
I blink hard, trying to come back to my body. My thighs are still trembling. My panties are stuck to me like glue. My whole lower half’s pulsing with leftover heat.
And my brain-
My brain is static.
No thoughts. Just–fuck.
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Chapter 85
Grayson doesn’t say anything. Just breathes heavy against my neck, chest still heaving like he’s barely holding on.
I lift one arm, stupid and slow, and shove weakly at his shoulder. “Move,” I mutter. “You’re crushing me.”
He doesn’t move.
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I let my head fall back against the mattress. My throat’s dry. My face is hot. I can feel the sweat cooling on my skin. And the shame- fuck, it’s creeping in. Crawling up my spine now that I’m not blinded by want.
I just-
Net him-
Right there. I didn’t even take off my clothes. I came like an animal.
A breath shudders out of me. “I hope Riot is not outside.”
Grayson growls.” He’s fucking not.”
shift under him, trying to look at his face. “What? Why?”
Wrong fucking question.
His expression twists–jaw locked, eyes blazing. “You think I forgot?” he grits out. “That he’s your mate?”
freeze.
Grayson’s eyes raked over me–my shirt still pushed up, my thighs still open around him, panties soaked, ruined.
“You think I don’t know what this looks like?” he spits. “You coming on my thigh with his fucking name still in your mouth- goddess, Jess.”
My breath catches.
His voice drops, low and shaking. “Is this a game to you? You want him to walk in? You want him to see what you let me do to you?”
“Grayson-”
“Don’t.” His hand slams the mattress beside my head. “You think this is just sex? You think I’m okay being your dirty fucking secret while you go play bonded lovers with him?”
i flinch. My whole body jerks.
“You’re mine, Jess.” His voice breaks–raw and guttural. “And he’s just a bastard who wants my father’s approval.”
I stare, numb. Then the words slip out before I can stop them, barely a whisper, trembling with disbelief:
“What did you do… Grayson?”
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