He groaned. “You’re making this fucking impossible, Snitch.”
“So fuck me. It’s impossible to break Grayson Crowne.” I huffed—practically pouting.
He lifted his head at that, brow arched. “You think it’s impossible to break me, Snitch?” With his question, he climbed above us, starting a ruthless rhythm, grinding into my bare pussy, his cock only sheathed by his pajamas.
It was almost like the beginning, with only the thin satin of his pajamas our barrier. But unlike the beginning, he hid nothing from me in his deep blue eyes. Every emotion was laid bare—his love unending.
“Story Hale…You’ve always been able to break me.” I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think past the thirst and hunger in his eyes, the hardening of his jaw and flare of his nostrils, or the incessant rhythm of his satin-covered cock over my very bare pussy. “I crumble at your fucking feet.”
He bent until his lips brushed mine. “Should I fuck you, little wife?”
“Yes, please. I ache.”
His lips skated along my neck. “You’re aching? My poor little wife.” Still he just ground against me with the same momentum. “Where should I fuck you? Your cunt? Your ass?”
The idea sent shivers up and down my spine. I wanted it. I wanted him. Now. My teeth tingled with it, and I arched into him.
It was like he knew, because his laugh shivered along my lips. “You’re so fucking transparent, Snitch.”
Then he was off me. He took Sonnet carefully from my arms, putting her in the green bassinet that rested beside our bed and beneath one of the many gilded floor-to-ceiling windows.
Then his eyes were back on mine—hungry—as he reached for something from the drawer.
I sat up on my elbows. “Why are you getting a condom?”
I wanted him bare. Skin to skin, like always.
“Because I’m going to fuck your ass.” He pumped himself at the image. “And then I’m going to finish inside your cunt.”
Heat rushed through me at the image.
He grinned, crooked. Dark. I watched him, transfixed, as he rolled the condom on his hard cock. I licked my lips, and his eyes dropped to that.
“Later…” He bent over, lips at my ear, voice sliding along my marrow. “I’ll fuck your
ass again and come inside that too.”
I groaned, ragged.
It’s happening. Fucking finally—
Then there was a knock.
“Ignore it,” I groaned.
“Sir?” One of Grayson’s guards called from the bottom floor. “You wanted to know when she was leaving.”
Downstairs in the foyer, the double doors were open, shedding lemony light onto the marble floors—and a mountain of luggage. A flashback to Asheville hit me. I’d seen that luggage once before. Now, Lottie stood before them, getting ready to—
“Were you planning on disappearing without a goodbye?” Grayson’s deep voice echoed in the hallway. It had a subtle spice of irritation to it. Because after everything Lottie, Grayson, and I had been through, he was hurt.
Lottie spun, eyes wide like she’d been caught. A moment or two passed, the salty summer breeze blowing. She looked at her feet, working one of her low-heeled camel shoes on the marble.
“I was hoping to leave without a big to-do,” she said at last.
“Where will we find you?” I asked.
“I’m not sure…Asheville is gone. My father and brother are dead. My mother is…well I hope I never see her again. I guess I’m going to try to find myself.”