Forbidden Fate (Crowne Point 3)

I stared at him. The rational part of me that always seemed to take a back seat whenever he was around screamed to fight back.

Disobey.

Don’t give in to the asshole who’d left me.

He quirked his head when I didn’t listen, veins pulsing in his golden neck. A moment stretched like taffy. I couldn’t decide if I wanted him to come to me…or get the fuck out.

But then he started to stand, to listen to me, to leave me.

And my legs fell open.

He froze before falling back to the floor.

“Wider,” he grated. My groin ached with the stretch, but when he made a sound deep in his throat, I felt like I was floating on air. “Slide your hand beneath your panties.”

Maybe it was Uncle’s death that led us to this point.

Maybe we were always going to end up here.

“We shouldn’t,” I said as I arched into my hand. “This is wrong.”

“Yeah,” he agreed jaggedly, rubbing his cock harder. “Fuck, I can see how wet you are.”

Sparky tingles buzzed along the tops of my thighs and the tips of my toes.

“What are you thinking?” he rasped.

I couldn’t keep it in. “I miss your teeth.”

He licked his bottom lip, giving me a flash of his bright teeth. I felt them on me, and I arched. He released a deep, jagged exhale.

“Touch yourself. Palm your tit.” I started to slide my hand beneath my shirt, but he growled: “Over the fabric.”

My heart pounded, breath tight in my chest, as I did what he said. I couldn’t look him in the eyes. It was too intimate. Too much. So I focused on his shirt, the way the material seemed to tighten across his muscles with each breath.

“Touch yourself the way you like.”

“Should I imagine it’s you?” I dared to look into his eyes, and they flashed up to mine, then back down. He didn’t say anything, but I took the dark, needful look in his eyes as a fuck yes.

I fucked myself hard beneath my panties, bruised my tit over my dress. All Grayson could see were the motions. He didn’t get anything else, but it felt more obscene that way.

He made a noise in his throat, as if the way I was doing it was wrong.

He rubbed his bottom lip with his pinky finger, and when he spoke, his voice was like iron. “Harder.”

I arched on a sigh. It was exactly what I’d been m

issing. How did he know what I wanted better than me?

“How do you fuck her?” I whispered.

I looked away from him, terrified to know the answer.

Yet some twisted part of me needed to know.

“You want to know how I fuck my wife, Snitch?”

I sucked in a breath. Grayson had come off the wall. He was on the floor with me, arms on either side, caging me. So close but still not touching me. The air between us danced, as though it knew we couldn’t touch, so it would do it for us.