Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
GREYSON
Fuck, she tastes good.
I hate that she tastes good.
I hate that she fits against me as if God molded her at my side.
I hate that her soft moan urges me to continue.
I hate that my tongue commands hers in the only way she’ll allow me to dominate her.
I hate that I like dominating her.
I hate that I have no self-control around this woman.
I hate that my body does whatever the hell it wants the second her belly presses against my erection.
I hate her.
I hate that she lied.
I hate that I allowed myself to be hurt by her.
I hate that she mewls, and scratches, and writhes against me as though I’m the only one who can bring her pleasure.
I hate that I don’t hate her nearly as much as I should.
“Fuck.” I hiss as sharp nails trail a line down my bare chest, then clench my teeth when my cock bobs angrily in my lounge pants.
Savannah Monroe is my damnation, my ruin, my eternal light.
Her tense muscles turn pliable in my hands, and it sends a rush of power through me.
I absolutely cannot fuck my sworn enemy. Again. I cannot fuck her again.
“Grey.” Sav doesn’t whine, she doesn’t beg, but my name certainly sounds like some sort of prayer from her lips.
“Why do I have to want you so fucking badly?” The anger in my tone is directed at myself, but she flinches as though my words struck her.
Guilt is a sensation I’ve been actively attempting to ban from my existence, but she manages to wrangle the devil out of me every time.
In every situation besides ones involving her, when I see a problem, I fix it, then I move on.
I don’t allow emotions to tangle up my life. I don’t allow distractions.
My entire adult life has been about raising Sage to be the complete opposite of my father, and I’ve done some pretty questionable things to ensure he grew up in a safe, loving environment.
But then Sav struts in here, caked in mud, and sets fire to all my carefully laid plans.
“Say yes,” she mewls, rubbing her body against mine.
This is the Savvy Monroe I know. This is the voice I listen to every night through AirPods so no one finds out I’m slightly obsessed with her podcast. This is the voice that guides couples through sexual doubt, self-exploration, and mutual masturbation—that was last night’s podcast, and I nutted in my hand like a goddamn teenager.
One more time. This is the last time I’ll be weak around her.
“I thought I was clear on this. You don’t control these encounters, Sav. I do.”
She gasps as I spin her, pressing her back to my front. She kicks over the battery-operated lantern, causing shadows to dance across the tight space, but I created the map of her pleasure. I could make her come without a speck of light.
And she is going to come. If nothing else, it’ll make her fucking apologies stop.
“Get on your hands and knees with your face in the blue chair.”
Her sharp intake of breath feeds the dragon that apparently only surfaces for her. Add that to the list of things I hate.
“Now, Sav.”
The storm raging outside has yet to move along, but it has nothing on the one dismantling me from the inside out.
I will not fall for a liar. I will not fall for a liar.
A groan of pure satisfaction rattles my ribcage when she drops to her knees and presses her face into the cushioned seat of the foam chair. She has the most perfect ass.
I hate that I love her ass.
“Lower your pants and remove the shirt.” I also hate that she looks so damn hot in my clothes.
“Bossy freaking asshole,” she mutters just low enough I strain to catch the ending.
But she follows my directions beautifully, and pre-come soaks the soft material of my pants.
She’s wet.
Closing my eyes, I drag in oxygen through my nose to calm my wild thoughts.
When I open them, they track the ladder of her ribcage—reigniting a protective flame I shouldn’t carry for her. She’s lost weight she didn’t have to lose. What the hell has she been doing for the last six months?
Savvy arches her spine, and the air hangs thick with mutual desire. Shoving my pants down, I get to my knees behind her. My fingers trace the indents of her spine, silently cursing each and every one.
Delicate.
Fragile.
I don’t like seeing her this way.
Why has she lost so much weight? I can’t even begin to estimate how much, but I memorized her figure and could sketch it in my sleep. It’s changed since I’ve been gone. Why?
“Have you been with anyone else since Christmas?” Christmas—the last time we had sex, and it feels like a lifetime ago.
“No.” She gasps when my fingers separate her pussy for my viewing pleasure. Sexual desire wars with my incurable disease to fix what I perceive as broken, and seeing every knob of her spine tells me something has broken her.
Or someone.
“You’re still on birth control?” My voice croaks, so I clear it.
“Always.” She pushes back into my fingers, and I decide right then that I’ll deal with her issues later.
“This is the last time we do this, Sav.”
Her long brown hair splays out over her back when she cranes her neck to look me in the eye. “That’s my line,” she says, wearing a smirk that brings other men to their knees.
Fuck. It is her line. It’s what she’s said every time I was drawn to her under the cover of darkness.
“It is.” My left eye twitches. “Luckily for both of us, I have more self-control than you. So, when I say it’s the last time, believe that it will be.”
“The almighty Greyson Reyes has spoken.”
Anger, desire, and a small amount of respect tingles in my fingers right before I slap her ass. I’ve never understood why her talking back to me makes pride flood my veins, but now I’ll never have to explore that uncomfortable sensation again.
My hand connects with her reddened flesh again when she doesn’t immediately respond.
“Jesus, okay. Last time. Obviously, last—”
I cut off her words by surging forward, impaling her on every inch of my cock.
“Grey.” Her needy groan pushes me to move faster.
I don’t tell her that I haven’t been with anyone else either. I’m just petty enough to keep that information to myself. Telling her would only raise more questions anyway. Like why I still haven’t picked a surrogate, or why I haven’t fucked anyone but my own hand in months.
“Harder.” Her pleading turns me on like nothing else ever has. The near-feral reaction I have should be criminal.
Savvy is the first woman I’ve ever been with who has a full and complete understanding of her sexual needs and desires.
And the confidence to act on them.
“My—my throat.” She grunts each word in between the slapping of my hips against her ass. Harder and harder I thrust, until her screams and moans block out the literal hurricane threatening to rip my house apart nail by fucking nail.
“You don’t make the decisions here, Sav.” Yet I give her exactly what she wants.
The second my fingers wrap around her throat and squeeze, she comes. Hard. Hard enough that her pussy grips my cock and I see stars.
Pure bliss snakes up my spine while her pussy flutters and spasms around me, but I bite my tongue to keep from coming.
Her fingers claw at my hand around her throat, not pressing it away, but forcing me to squeeze tighter.
Why does she have to be so damn perfect?
I fall forward, my front pressing into her back, so my lips land near her ear, and I slip my free hand around her thigh to pinch her clit.
“That was just a warm-up, Sav. Now fuck me like you’ve missed me.”
She knows what I want, but she’s just stubborn enough to fight me for it.
This is a war she can’t win though. Once my trust is gone, it’s gone forever, so this thing between us will be all about my wants and needs now.
Being selfish is the only way to rebuild my walls.
With my arms wrapped around her belly, I lift her, spin, then sit in the chair that’s wet from her drool with my dick still ensconced in her heat.
She sits on my cock, a little dazed, with her back plastered to my sweaty chest, and I slap her thigh just hard enough to make the cracking sound on her skin vibrate through the air.
“Move, Sav. Your turn to do the work.”
My hands fall to the sides of these idiotic stuffed chairs I never got around to replacing and I jerk my hips upright, just once, to spur her into motion.
Her pussy is swollen around me. She might even be sore, but she loves it. And when she starts to ride me, her sighs and gasps of pleasure prove it to be true.
“What is it you want today, Grey?” She rolls her hips in a slow seduction meant to torment me.
My chest rumbles. “Sweet and slow is for good girls who know how to tell the truth, and that’s not you. Fuck me, Sav.”
“I didn’t lie to hurt you.” I want to believe there’s honesty in that tone of hers, but she’s proven to me that she can’t be trusted, so I ignore her, thankful when she slams her tight pussy down onto my lap.
“I’d have to care for the lie to hurt me, Sav. Play with my balls.”
She cries out when I spread her ass cheeks. The sight of my cock ramming into her each time she bounces down makes me even harder—so hard I actually hurt.
Everything with Savannah Monroe hurts.
The soft pads of her fingertips play with my balls before slipping lower.
“Don’t,” I grind out. But it’s too late, her finger dips back, rimming my ass, and I come with violent spurts that suck the air straight from my lungs.
Goddamn, she’s infuriating.
I thrust up because even though I just came with enough force to put me in a momentary coma, I’m still hard inside her.
Savvy attempts to take control, but I hold onto her hips to keep her still and hovering above my cock as I rut into her like a man possessed.
A purging. That’s what this is.
Her hands fall to my thighs, nails digging half crescent moons into my skin.
It only makes me thrust harder, faster, deeper.
I’m aware enough to know that I’m trying to imprint myself on her, so she’ll never forget, but also, if this is truly the last time I’ll have this woman, she’ll feel every ounce of her betrayal the same way I did.
She’s already taken the rest of me.
“Grey. Oh, God.”
I tug her down so she’s sitting in my lap, and I tuck her thighs over mine, keeping her open to me as I continue to thrust up.
My fingers roam her slick skin. Finding her clit, I flick at it ruthlessly until I hit the threshold she loves so much. The one bordering on pain and pleasure that has her head falling back to rest on my shoulder. She turns her face into my neck, and irrational anger festers in my chest.
That’s a place for a lover, not whatever this thing is between us now. With my free hand, I roughly turn her head away from my neck, then I rub small, tight circles on her bundle of nerves, and she explodes around me, taking me with her into a momentary daze of bliss.
One where she didn’t betray me.
One where if she’d only made a different choice, things might have been so very, very different.
I sink into the chair with her on top of me. We’re both catching our breath as the reality of our situation sinks in.
I fucked her. Again. After telling myself it would never happen again. While our lives are in imminent danger, but my mind replays only one thing on repeat—why did she have to betray me?
“That was probably a mistake,” she whispers, and my entire body turns to steel. Well, everything except my cock that deflates instantly and slips out of her, pulling our joined come with it.
With a clenched jaw, I lift her from my lap and drop her into the chair next to mine.
“Yup.”
I don’t want to see her face while my chest is fighting off a heart attack, so I stand and dig through a container in search of baby wipes. When I find them, I toss one package to her and then clean myself up with another.
Mistake. Yeah, and where Sav is concerned, they just keep piling up.
I went from hating Savvy to hating myself.
She’s sprawled out on the floor next to me using the seat of her chair as a pillow.
Thankfully, she didn’t say another word after she informed me that we were a mistake—again—she just passed out the moment her head hit the cushion.
Sleep is an elusive bitch though, and I’m forced to stare into the dark as the storm circles us hour after hour.
What will be left of my house, my property, after this?
It could be the perfect excuse to head back to California, but I won’t do that to Sage. Not when he’s found his place on the football team here. And even if I’m loath to admit it, helping coach the quarterbacks has given me back a piece of my life I’d refused to acknowledge I’d missed.
“I am sorry.” Her soft confession picks at my conscience like a child plucking at a newly formed scab.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, ignoring her statement. There’s no going back, so I will no longer weigh myself down with her nonsense.
“No, thanks.”
“Stop doing that,” I hiss.
“Doing what?” She sits up, my T-shirt so large it hangs off one shoulder.
“Being…demure. This isn’t you. You’re loud and brash. Just stop fucking lying.”
My eyes widen as her face turns a shade of red that makes me almost fearful that she’s not breathing.
“I’m not lying, Grey. I don’t apologize either, yet here I am.
I’m trying because I know I screwed up. I know I broke your trust and that I’ll never fully get it back.
But I’m here, throwing myself at your mercy because the only people I consider family live in this town and I will not be the reason they can’t have all their friends and family in the same place. ”
I stand, reaching for my lucky coin, only to remember I left it in the nightstand upstairs.
“Apology accepted. There, now will you cut the shit?”
The heat from her body alerts me first. When the air shifts and I catch the scent of her and sex, I know she’s directly behind me.
Looking at her now would be the equivalent of staring straight at Medusa herself, so I keep my gaze on the bare wall in front of me.
“There’s a reason I don’t tell anyone about my past, and if you can’t accept that, then fine.
But when it comes to being a surrogate, it had nothing to do with you.
You can believe that or not, I really don’t give a shit at this point, but we will not be the reason my best friend doesn’t get her happily ever after. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly.”
She sighs, and it feels fragile as it hits my back. It’s not my responsibility to fix her. If I say it enough, perhaps I’ll finally believe it.
Everything suddenly falls silent. The wind that’s been pelting my home for the last two hours disappears like a whisper. No glass breaking, no sounds of wood or metal hitting the walls.
Eerie, deadly silence.
“Do you think the storm’s over?” There’s fear in her tone, and if I were a nicer guy, I’d face her and offer comfort.
But she had the nice version of me before, and look what she did to him.
“No, I think the worst is yet to come.”
Her fear is alive, and it takes every ounce of control I have to ignore her and grab a protein bar before sitting back down to wait this shit out.