“Snitch.” He growled, his breath heating my lips.
“Perfect,” I whispered.
Because in this crystalline second, I was.
He dragged me closer, our lips nearly one—then one blinding question stopped me in my tracks.
“How are you doing, Atlas?”
“I’m perfect.” He crushed his lips against mine. “Now.”
Fourteen
STORY
We both let out the same needy, aching groan as our mouths collided. Yet, Grayson pulled back, barely giving me the kiss I needed.
The relief I needed.
Tormenting me.
I clung to his neck, his shoulders, but mostly, I clung to the way he watched me. The utter lust and possession combined with such complete defeat in his blue eyes made my throat dry. It was like he was an old sailor drawn to the rocks, as if I was the enthralling one in the room.
I got high off it.
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I remember thinking Grayson Crowne would never look at me, and now it was like he can’t stop looking at me.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I begged.
He breathed his next words against my lips, a hot, arrogant promise. “I’d rather show you, little wife.”
With two hands, he ripped my dress. The tear echoed with crashing waves and I arched into him on a gasp. I couldn’t think beyond his fingers, his sugary sweet lips whispering dirty words, his cock an iron bar on my hip.
I looked down at my torn dress, at my cleavage lifting toward his mouth with my heavy breaths.
A few more inches torn and I’d be entirely bare.
“Your bruises have faded, little wife…” he trailed off, nostrils flared, blue eyes disappearing into black pupils. The grit in his voice slid into my chest, into my lungs. “You should be painted in them.” He crushed his lips against my cleavage, teeth closing on my flesh.
I arched off the wall on a cry as his hand secured me in the arch, captive against his wicked mouth.
Grayson was ruthless, dragging his teeth across my chest. Goose bumps rose with his teeth, and I melted into the possession of his growl on my flesh—the ownership.
I groaned his name like a prayer, twining my fingers into his unruly, silky hair.
Distantly, like the soft crash of waves, a thought tried to push into the forefront. We should be using this time to talk—but now I was nothing save sensation—nothing but deep, throbbing need. Grayson was everywhere at once. Lips hot on my flesh, teeth scraping over the hills and valleys of my breasts.
I could only groan.
He smiled against my flesh. “My little wife, you make the most beautiful sounds for me. Give me more.” His teeth grazed the very edge of my nipple and my vision went blurry, a whimper leaving my mouth. “Fuck. Yeah. Just like that, little nun.”
Grayson throbbed against my belly, hand sliding down my back and searching ruthlessly under the thick velvet of my dress. His large, strong palm found my lacy panties and tugged, pulling them tight between my pussy lips in desperate, harsh yanks. He growled something so low I couldn’t hear it, but I feel it in the way he ripped the lace from my body, and shoved two fingers inside me not a second later.
I felt his groan to my very core. To my heart. To my soul.
Like he’d been deprived.