“Even the dark. Even the ugly. Fucking give it to me.”
“That night…the night I slept with West—”
“Was my fault,” I cut her off.
“You said you wanted all my words, so let me fucking tell them to you!” she yelled.
“Fuck!” I groaned, arching my back and bottoming inside her. “Then tell me, Snitch.”
STORY
“That night I wanted to hurt you.”
“Yeah?” Grayson rasped.
“I wanted to destroy us. Desecrate everything that was sacred.”
His breathing was heavy and jagged. This position was insanely intimate. I never thought it could be like this, but he filled me everywhere.
Fucking my ass with a hard, destructive rhythm, sliding his fingers in my cunt. Slapping. Toying. Owning. Ripping my jaw up when I forgot to look at him, or if he just wanted to crush his lips to mine, wet and sloppy.
“I had a thorn,” I gasped. “I begged you to rip him out of me but how could you, when I thought I deserved to be in pain?” His teeth slid across my neck. “I kept pushing it deeper. I kept bleeding.”
“More,” he demanded. His dick throbbed insi
de of me, like he was getting off to the worst parts of me. The darker I went, the louder he groaned.
I was twisting in it.
“But I only want you inside me. In my heart. In my soul. In the dark parts I can’t go. And when I realized there was someone still inside me…making me bleed…”
“More.” He went harder—punishing.
“I’m scared,” I admitted.
“Little nun,” he said soft and coaxing, “do you think anything you say could ever make me leave you? Make me look at you differently?”
“I-I…” I broke off on a groan as he switched positions, deeper—ripping my darkest, dirtiest thoughts while he gave me pleasure.
“Be a good girl, Story.” His kiss turned sweet. Hot. Massaging my breasts and down between my thighs. I couldn’t think. “Give me a secret.”
“I don’t feel bad,” I admitted on a long groan as his fingers rounded my clit. “I’d do it again. Because…because I think that night showed me all the thorns I couldn’t see. That night freed me.”
There it was.
The piece that had been cutting my soul. That horrible, jagged shard I was too afraid to say to myself, let alone aloud, to the love of my life.
I waited for him to shame me.
To hate me.
“Grayson—” I tried to backtrack.
He groaned a deep, longing sound at the base of my neck, head falling to my shoulder blades. “Fucking perfect.”
Then he lifted his head.
Our eyes locked.