The tone in his voice butterflied in my chest.
I grasped his forearm. “Why?”
“Tell me all your words, little nun.” He sounded desperate, pleading.
“I have.” I don’t know what else to say to him.
He slid a different finger inside of my pussy and I arched into him.
“Fuck, you look good like this.” He tangled his free hand into my curls. “You can tell me anything. Anything.”
“I…” He rubbed his throbbing dick up and down my ass. I was wild with need. Insane. It was burning me up inside. “I don’t know what else to say. Please.” Our eyes connected, his blue ones edged and half-lidded. “Grayson?”
I saw the moment he broke. The moment he caved. That notorious Grayson Crowne self-control shattering. He shoved his cock up to my cunt, I arched but he gripped my thigh, bruising. At the entrance but not in.
“Tell me your fucking secrets so I can fuck you.” His tone was hoarse and animalistic, words punctuated with a slight but powerful thrust inside of me.
Fucking—thrust.
Fuck—thrust.
“What the hell does that mean, Grayson?” I groaned. I was drunk, blind, heady and lost inside him. The room was a swirl of shadows and starlight and him. “You know me, you know all of me. Fuck me.”
He took a breath, nostrils flared, holding himself back. He bruised his palm from my neck across my tits, paying special attention on my swollen stomach.
“Please.”
His cock teased my entrance, pressing just a little bit inside.
A long, needy groan left my lips.
Or maybe his.
We were almost there…
“Fuck!” He shoved me off.
“You still won’t fucking tell me?” he growled, his lips to my ear, his voice a throbbing promise like the erection at my spine. “I’ll have to rip them from you. Rip him from you—”
A loud clatter from the other room shattered the moment. I blinked, and noticed the clock.
It was eleven.
“I have to go.” Tears welled at the surface of my eyes. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to ever go again.
He gripped my wrist, tugging me back as I tried to leave.
I swiped at my eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to stay past ten.”
“I don’t give a shit.”
His gaze was frayed, his grip bruising. He was at the edge of his rope and so was I. I couldn’t keep living like this, in our stolen moments.
“If you go to his bed again, I will rip you out by the hair.”
“And I’ll let you,” I sighed, melting back into him. “Grayson, tomorrow is the baby shower. I am done. I’m having this baby in just weeks and we are no closer to that coin. Everywhere we look, it’s like someone already beat us to the punch.”
He looked away. “We still have plan B.”