He spread me further with his fingers, yet still not inside me, and I arched, begging him with my body for what I couldn’t with words, just to go deeper. Deeper, more, inside, please.
“Say it,” he said, voice gravel. “Fucking say it.”
I couldn’t say those words. Because even though they’re true, he would never be mine.
With his free hand, he ripped my hands off his shoulder, holding them above my head.
“Don’t touch me,” he said, eyes going dark. “Don’t fucking look at me, Snitch. Nothing’s changed.”
And then he finally thrust his fingers inside me.
I gasped at the intrusion. Grayson Crowne was inside me. Was this what it felt like to be touched by a god? A lightning strike of pain shot through me at the same time a bolt of pleasure wove its way through my body.
Don’t look at him.
Nothing’s changed, he said.
Except he’s inside me. Pleasing me. Paying attention to what I like, what I need. Any slight change in breath he followed, chased, trapped, and captured.
I don’t want to enjoy this.
Don’t enjoy this.
“More,” I breathed.
“More?” His soft lips quirked to the side, making his jaw that much sharper. He pressed lightly on my clit, and pleasure fluttered from the tips of my toes to tingles in my teeth. I was melting. Aching. Jagged pleasure cut me.
Stop.
Don’t stop.
Something wicked was happening, twisting and growing. I was almost at the brink, but he’s back to being a blurry Polaroid. He slid another finger inside me, and I bowed.
“Should I fuck you now, Snitch?” Grayson asked, voice cutting and low. “Would you like that? Will you take my cock as eagerly as you do my fingers?”
I get to use you, he’d said. Break you. Own you.
You’ve been doing that.
My lids burned as pleasure climbed and climbed inside me. With sadness? With pleasure? I clawed at the wall, trying not to come, as he still kept my wrists in a vise.
I couldn’t come this way.
But my abdomen muscles hurt with the force of me trying to push the orgasm back.
“Did you forget your first day of training, Snitch?” he growled.
My eyes found his, and my breath left me.
Was this why I can’t meet Gray in the eyes? I’d read a story about a mythological creature that killed with a single look. It was said if you looked into their eyes, you would see the soul, and knowing such dark secrets was a death sentence.
Gray’s blue eyes pinched, and for a moment, I thought maybe I can see into his soul. My teeth ache and knees go weak when he looks at me like that. I forget everything. Forget the pain. The heartache.
Then anger flashed.
He gripped my chin and forced my head away, to stare at the door.
“When I say come, you come.” He breathed his words against my cheek, his words a possessive, hot kiss. Then he pressed down on my clit and I arched my back, bit my lip to keep from crying out.