“Story, slow down—”
I fisted his cock, and he broke off on a hiss, head falling back.
“Fuck. Story. Fuck.”
West was hard at my entrance, and I swallowed air at the fullness. Everything burned. My thighs. My eyes. My chest.
West grasped my chin. “Slow the fuck down, Story.”
He gripped my thigh, bruising my chin with his free hand, forcing me to freeze as he split me in two.
To feel a moment I wanted to rush past.
Tears burned my lids. “I don’t want to slow down. Don’t make me slow down. Please.”
His eyes cracked.
No.
I can’t see vulnerability in West. I needed him to be what he always is. Callous and cavalier.
I tried to yank my chin away, but his grip tightened.
“I want to make you come, Story,” West said. “Don’t want this to be a repeat of last time—”
The door creaked open as West’s words slashed at the tender skin of my heart. My gaze jerked to the side, to a shadow that hung in the doorway.
Messy rose gold hair. Deep blue eyes. Old and new memories intersected.
I always wondered what you’d kiss like now.
You’re my first…first…
My eyes flickered back and forth, from my first cruel prince to my last.
The roles had switched. Now Grayson hung in shadows, leaning in the doorway, arms folded, leg propped. My heart seized as I watched him, waiting for him to act.
Waiting for him to rush in and rip me off West.
To attack West.
The waiting was torture.
“West. Please,” I whispered, eyes still on Grayson.
Grayson wasn’t moving and that was more terrifying than if he’d come and ripped me off West. It was…ominous.
“I can’t have this be a repeat, Story,” West said. “Tell me what you like now.”
I feel like I’m on the verge of something. Every dark, suppressed, fucked up emotion swirling a spell inside me. All the things I pretended don’t exist. Grayson. Grayson and his pregnant wife. Grayson and the love I can’t rip out.
The very shadows hung, waiting to drop for us.
I can’t breathe.
I want to break us, destroy us.
My eyes were still on Grayson. “It doesn’t matter.”