Chapter 8
Grant
The Memory
Ifucking knew that dress showing off her delicate curves was another cover for the shit I saw beneath.
The fabric stopped at her ankles, which I couldn’t help but notice the moment she walked in.
If she were mine, I’d show her off just like she freely did the first time I met her.
I’d been ready to see something on her skin, but I didn’t imagine it would be what I saw.
I had, however, imagined killing Walton with my bare hands.
A soft crack came from my hand, my tight grip shattering my phone.
I hurled it at the front door, the picture of the two of them flickering from the ground.
Every time I looked her up on the internet and saw a new picture of the two of them out and about, at ritzy events splashed in diamonds with their safe but secure smiles that reeked of lies, I knew she was marked. And I knew he was to blame for it all.
Sophia Pierson was a big name in Texas. I didn’t know that when I met her, but after she left, I heard Lyra confiding in my friend, her husband, that Sophia seemed off.
Lyra scrolled through Sophia’s socials, searching for a reason, and I may have peeked over her shoulder a few times. Enough to know how to search for her.
Did I have any social media accounts before Sophia? Hell no. Even now, I had nothing but a blank profile with whatever name it suggested to me after it said Grant was taken. I didn’t care if she knew I was watching her and every public move she made.
In fact, I was hoping she did.
See, Sophia promised something to me that night—the first time we met. Only, when I woke up, it wasn’t to her or to the words she clearly had no intentions of speaking, not even when cornered and bound on a bed. The only thing she left me with was the scent of her on my hand.
Before I’d awoken, she was already gone.
“Who hurt you?” I asked, raising my voice just enough to snap her from her sleepiness.
She turned to face me, red lines branching toward the blues of her irises. “Grant?”
“It’s me, darlin’. Now, tell me—”
“Hmm.” Her lashes fluttered closed, like she was fighting hard to stay awake. “Help me.”
Blood rushed away from my dick and into my fist. “How?”
“Sleep,” Sophia replied, sliding my hand that had shifted from her hip to her waist when she had turned around. She loosely gripped my thumb, her tiny fist wrapping around the digit to hook it onto the top of her jean shorts. “Help…help me sleep.”
I exhaled and leaned in, brushing my nose down her cheek as I whispered, “You’re already asleep.”
“Please,” she whimpered, her eyes still closed and breaths steady.
“Tell me who made the marks on your pretty skin and I’ll do whatever you want, darlin’.”
“Please,” she repeated, gathering two more fingers to push beneath her jeans. “I want you.”
“And I want to know—”
“Tomorrow,” she urged, sounding suddenly more awake before slipping back into a groggy state. “Please, Grant.”
Something about her sayin’ my name, even in her sleep, made me push all thoughts aside as I slipped my hand beneath her panties. She moaned softly as my fingers grazed her slit. I hung my head in the crook of her neck, and her fingers speared into the hair along my nape.
“Is this”—I slid between her folds—“what you want?”
She gasped as I pinched her clit, and her hips jerked forward.
“Ah, fuck,” she whimpered.
Sophia’s palm snaked down my arm like she wanted to guide me. I kissed her neck, pressing my lips along her collarbone as her hand met mine, pushin’ it further south.
And I complied, pushing a finger inside. “Fuck, darlin’. This all for me?”
“Shut up and keep goin’.”
I chuckled and complied with that, too. I added another finger, sliding in and out of her tight cunt, making my cock throb in my jeans.
The friction from our arms rubbing between us wasn’t helping.
It was almost like she was rubbing me, too.
My cock didn’t know the damn difference.
I was breathin’ in a gorgeous woman while I finger fucked her, and for all my dick cared, it was getting the same treatment.
Her moans were soft and muddled against my temple as she ground down on my fingers eagerly. I hadn’t been sure if she was awake, like truly aware of what she was askin’ for, but now I was.
I ripped my fingers from her and went back to circling her clit, pinching and flicking until her legs trembled.
“Put your fingers in me again,” she ordered.
And…you guessed it. I fuckin’ complied. Happily.
Her hand met mine beneath her jeans, only she wasn’t pushin’ my hand. She was…holy fuck.
“Are you gettin’ yourself off, darlin’?” I bit down on her neck as she nodded, her fingers working hard to circle her clit while mine pumped into her. The head of my cock swelled uncomfortably in my jeans. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come, too.”
“Yeah?” she questioned, glancing between us. I hadn’t been sure her eyes had opened at all during, but now they were wide, staring down at the undeniable bulge between us. A small bead of precum dotted the fabric, and she bit her lip as I pressed my erection against her.
Sophia moaned as I did it again, adding a third finger. She was tight, and hot as fuck, and so, so damn wet. It had been too long since I’d been anywhere near a pussy, let alone one I was actually interested in.
“I’m so close,” she said, pressing her forehead to my shoulder. “Make me come on your fingers, Grant.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I thrust in and stroked the swollen spot inside as her fingers turned frantic, swirling in circles as her legs jerked against mine.
My cock throbbed painfully as her hips bucked, then she ripped her hand from her shorts and applied just enough pressure right at the head of my cock.
Even though it was through my jeans, I groaned as she repeated her movements.
I knew I wouldn’t last long, nor did I give a damn if I came in my jeans like a horny teenager discovering a vagina for the first time.
Her pussy started to convulse, and as she moaned my name, I lost it, too. Warm cum spread down my twitching cock as my hips thrust into her hand. I let her ride the orgasm just like she was doin’ for me, each of us working the other until she slowed and slumped into me.
Seconds later, her hand loosened over my cock like it had become a comfort item in her sleep. I kinda liked that thought as her breathing surrendered to a calm rhythm like it had been before we made each other come.
I reluctantly pulled my hand from the warmth of her soaked pussy and raised it to my lips, sucking the cum clean from the three fingers that had been deep inside her.
“Mmm, darlin’.” I swept my tongue down my hand, between each groove of my knuckles, lapping her up. “How’d you know I love peaches?”
My phone buzzed on the wooden floors, pulling me from my reverie. I peered at it and dragged my palm down my face, then went to collect it from the floor.
“Carver, to what do I owe the pleasure on this fine mornin’?”
“Where’d you take Sophia last night?”
Cuttin’ right to it.
“That would imply I don’t still have her with me,” I replied.
“Hold on.” There was a long pause, and then wind started blowing through the line as if he’d stepped outside. “Let me rephrase—do I need to ask why you threw her over your shoulder outside my bar last night? She didn’t look right.”
Fucking cameras. “No.”
“You worried my wife, Grant.”
“Yeah, well, where was your wife when Sophia was waiting for her at the bar?” More silence filled the line, then I cleared my throat. “You know that piercing on Lyra’s clit has to heal, right?”
“Don’t ever let me hear you talk about my wife’s clit again.”
“Listen, I don’t want to talk about it, but I would hate to have to come over to your house to do it again.”
“Pretty sure putting her on her knees doesn’t hurt her pussy.” Noted. “Anyways, Lyra wants to know if you’re driving Sophia to the airport later. Sounds like she’s wanted back home pretty soon.”
“Really?” I played dumb. “I’ll have to ask when she wakes up.”
“Grant.”
“Carver.”
Carver sighed, and I could almost picture him shaking his head. “Have her call my wife when she does get up.”
I glanced at the clutch on my kitchen table. “Not sure she has her phone.”
“You know I have cameras inside my bar too, right?”
I groaned. “You need to start havin’ kids or somethin’ real soon. You should not be watching me that closely.”
“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t be drugging and kidnapping my wife’s best friend, but here we are.”
“On that note, did you see what car she arrived in?”
Carver fell silent until my phone buzzed with a text. “There. Sent you the videos my manager sent me. Should be in there.”
“Thanks. I’ll have her call when she can.
Until then, I need a favor.” I told him what I needed his wife to do before I hung up, then went right to Carver’s messages.
Starting with the first video he had sent, I couldn’t help but grin wildly as my girl’s fiancé walked right into the side mirror of my dear Betsy.
I’d be pissed about him hitting my truck if it hadn’t led to him leaving the bar.
The fucking wuss.
I tossed my phone on the couch, not needing to watch the rest of what I’d done that night, then grabbed Sophia’s clutch and opened it.
I’d already gone through her phone while she slept the Ativan off, but I’d left the rest of her clutch alone…
until now. I dumped the contents on the table, and something clattered to the ground.
I knelt down and picked up the gaudiest thing I’d ever seen.
Even the pictures didn’t make it look nearly as big as it was in person.
But it was all for show. The ring she wore in pictures, but hid in Roland’s, clearly didn’t say she was in love.
What it also proved was that she walked into Roland’s trying to conceal the fact that she was taken.
And in a small town like Alliston Springs, no one would know who she was, or that her marriage had been arranged for years.
No one would think twice about the extent she went to cover up her life.
Not unless they were me.