Worth More Than Money (Worth It 3)

My want to have her.

My want to bring her to the edge.

I gathered her into my arms and slipped off the bed. I pinned her against the wall and fucked her senseless, driving into her until her juices sprayed against my skin. I groaned into her neck. Felt her legs growing weak with her desperate need to cum. My balls pulled into my body and my cock began to ache. Grow. Press against her fluttering walls until the only thing I could do was bury myself deeper.

“Michelle,” I said into her skin. “I can’t—”

“Please let me cum. Please let me cum. Please let me cum.”

Her breathless words were fuel to my fire and I ground my pelvis into her. Raking my curls against her clit as her head smashed into the wall. I slid into her one last time, releasing against her walls and coating her with my cum. Marking her as mine and erasing any man she may or may not have had in my absence. Behind my back. At any point in time in her life.

“Gray!”

I kissed up her neck and captured her lips as she whimpered against me. Her entire body trembled as I pressed myself into her soft curves. I kissed her. Repeatedly. Over and over, until my name was nothing but a muffled moan accompanied by the strokes of her tongue. I slid my hands into her palms and threaded our fingers together, our juices trickling from her body and running down my leg.

She felt like home.

It felt like I had finally come home again.

I wrapped my arms around her and backed her away from the wall. And just as quickly as the moment had taken over me, the fog from my mind cleared. I quickly slid out of her and set her onto the edge of the bed, then backed away from her.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That was not—”

Her big, beautiful eyes followed me as I backed all the way back to my seat.

“That wasn’t the point of you coming over here,” I said.

“Gray?” Michelle asked.

&nb

sp; “I should’ve kept my control,” I said with a whisper.

“What’s—?”

“You’re not my plaything!”

I roared it into the room, but mostly for myself. I’d lost control of my anchor again. I’d allowed my conscious mind to take a backseat and let my body rule my decision-making. I raked my hands through my hair and slammed into the chair by the window, my body covered in her scent.

In her juices.

In her kisses.

“You’re the mother of my child,” I said, as I closed my eyes. “And you deserve more from me.”

“Gray, you didn’t—”

“You deserve a better interaction from me,” I said.

“Gray, would you just—”

“I’m sorry for causing issues at your job. It’s your job. And you’re doing the best you can. That’s what any good mother would do.”

“Would you shut the fuck up and let me talk?”

My eyes whipped up at the harshness of her tone. She slid from the side of the bed and walked towards me, her breasts swaying and her hips shifting side to side. She tugged at the sheet from the bed and wrapped herself up in it, like a goddess come down from the clouds to grace me with her presence. She sat in the chair in front of me. In front of the glass of ice water I had poured for her earlier.

“Do you want something else to drink?” I asked.