Rowan
The air sends chills down my back as I step into Graysons room, the dim light casting shadows across the space. The room is filled with the rich scent of cedar and the faint hint of his intoxicating scent mixed with his cologne.
Grayson watches me from the doorway, his gaze intense. I feel his eyes following my every movement. The room is simple yet elegant, with dark furniture, accented by deep earthy tones. It’s undeniably a man’s space.
“Are you comfortable?” He asks, his voice breaking the silence.
I nod, though my heart feels like it’s about to jump out of my chest. “Yes, it’s– nice.”
He steps closer, his presence suddenly making me feel smaller. “I want you to feel at home here, Row. We’re going to be here for a while.”
I force a weak smile. “I appreciate that. ”
He studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to be so formal. We’re past that aren’t we?”
I swallow hard, my throat dry. “I guess we are by now.”
Grayson moves to the window, looking out at the vineyard. “You know I want us to figure out our next step together right?”
I take a deep breath. “The next step as in what?”
He turns back to me. “What happens next for us after Conejo is dead.”
I feel a knot in my chest at the reminder of our situation. “I’ll go back to my life and you’ll go back to yours, right?”
He takes a step toward me. “I don’t know if I can let you go, . I don’t like thinking about what it will be like not seeing you everyday.”
My heart jumps at his words but I quickly suppress the feeling. “Grayson, there’s obviously a feeling between us but, I can’t live this life. I can’t handle the stress of running or gang wars or people getting killed. I can’t get over the fact that you kidnapped me and forced me back into what I tried to stay away from. ”
“It’s not normally like this, Row. This situation is different. We’ve never had to run. But once Conejo is taken care of, everything will be back to normal.” He says, taking another step closer.
“But Grayson, your version of normal isn’t normal to me. Being here in Italy is the most at peace I have felt, through all of this. I’m not meant for the life you have in Chicago and when we get back I’m getting the hell out of Detroit and finding a more peaceful place to live.” I say.
He steps closer, closing the gap between us and locks eyes with me. “I understand you, . You’re pure,” he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, “innocent. I’m a bad man,” he continues, his hands landing on my hips. “I’m corrupt, and you’re too good for this life.” He lowers me to sit on the bed. “I’ve killed two-hundred- sixty-seven men. The murder-suicide in Lake Forest– that was me. I traffic coke into the US from Cuba, and supply it to every criminal organization in Chicago, we use stolen amazon trucks to transport it. I steal luxury cars and sell them with different VIN numbers by replacing the body of the cars. I sell guns that have murders on them–”
“Why are you telling me all of this?” I cut him off .
He places his hands on my shoulders, laying me down on his bed and braces his hands on the bed to tower over me. “Because you now have information to use against me.” He slips his arm around my waist and lifts me up further onto the mattress. “The only way I can keep you from going to the feds is to keep you with me for good.” He lowers his head, placing soft kisses from my cheek to down to my collar bone.
“I’m being honest with you, now be honest with me, . What’s on your mind?” He whispers against my skin. How bad I want to feel every inch of him. How his breath caressing my skin sends chills across my body.
He lifts up to brace himself on his hands and locks eyes with me. “I’m scared.” I admit.
He nods, brushing my bottom lip with his thumb. “Good,” he drops his hand to my legs, running it up my thigh underneath my dress, “because I might fuck you tonight. I might not. But when I do, you should absolutely be scared.”
He lifts off of the bed and I go to get up. “Stay.” He commands.
I shoot daggers with my eyes and get up anyway. He’s not going to give me commands like a dog. Just as my feet hit the floor he grabs both of my wrists and pins me down against the mattress.
“Take orders or take pain. Your choice, .” He bares his teeth.
He releases me and strides over to the closet, returning with black rope. I shiver, more in response to nerves with his every step towards me.
“Give me your hands.” He orders.
Reluctantly, I stretch my hands out to him, wrist to wrist as he binds them together. My heart pounds as my mind races with thoughts of what he might do. He wants to feel my fear but I’m not going to give him what he wants. Even if it’s what I want.
He slides me by my hips toward the top of the bed, tying my hands to the bar of the headboard.
Grayson’s low, steady voice breaks the silence. “Stay still,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. “Don’t move unless I tell you to.”
My breath catches in my throat, my pulse quickening. I nod, his intense gaze rooting me in place. Grayson moves with deliberate slowness, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin, exploiting the curve of my neck and the line of my collarbone .
“Look at me,” he commands softly, his eyes locking onto mine. I obey, my gaze steady despite the flutter of nervousness in my chest.
“Good girl,” he praises, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. When we’re in these intimate moments together, I feel like I’ve known Grayson forever. It’s a feeling of comfort that I’ve never experienced with another man. All of my reservations seem to leave my body when he’s like this.
He straightens up, taking a step back to survey me, his eyes dark with satisfaction. “I’m going to touch you, and you’re going to stay perfectly still. Understood?”
“Yes.” I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper.
Grayson’s hands move to my sides, his fingers dancing along my ribs, making me squirm with anticipation. “Stay. Still.” He reminds me, his voice firm. I bite my lip, focusing on the burn of his touch, willing myself to obey.
He grips the hem of my thin, white dress and rips it open, exposing my body to him.
Leaning in again, his breath warm against my skin as he speaks. “Close your eyes. ”
I comply, narrowing to the feel of his hands and the sound of his voice. He continues lightly drawing his rough calloused palms up my body, each caress a reminder of my restraint.
“You’re doing well,” he praises, his deep voice a soothing balm to my heightened senses. “But now I need you to tell me what you want.”
My mind races, wanting to tell him to stop, but my body needs to feel more of him. “I want you to touch me more.” I confess, embarrassment heating my cheeks.
“Good, now tell me where.” His voice deepens.
“Everywhere.” The word spills from my lips in a rush of need.
Without another word, he leans closer, his lips grazing my collarbone before moving lower. His mouth follows the path his hands have taken, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. I gasp, my back arching involuntarily as his teeth graze my skin, sending jolts of pleasure and pain through me.
“Remember,” he says, his voice a husky whisper against my skin. “Stay still. ”
I bite back a moan, my body trembling with the effort to obey. His hands slide lower, his fingers tracing the lace of my panties, teasing but not quite touching. The anticipation is almost unbearable.
“Tell me what you need.” He demands, his breath hot against my stomach.
“I need you.” I manage to whisper, my voice thick with desire.
He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against my skin. “You’re going to have to be more specific, .”
“Please,” I plead, my hips lifting slightly, silently begging for his touch, “I need you to keep going.”
Grayson's eyes darken with approval, his finger finally dipping beneath the lace. The first touch is electric, a shock of pleasure that has me straining against my bonds.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, his finger moving with agonizing slowness. “Now don’t move.”
I bite my lip harder, focusing on the way his finger teases me. Every stroke, every caress is deliberate, designed to drive me over the edge. He knows what he’s doing, and he takes his time, savoring every reaction I give him.
Grayson’s touch becomes more insistent, his fingers matching the fast rhythm of my heart beat. I can feel the tension building, a tight coil of pleasure ready to snap.
“Please,” I gasp, my voice barely audible. “I need more.”
His eyes burn with intensity as he studies my face, taking in every twitch, every breath. “Not yet,” he whispers, his fingers maintaining their torturous pace. “You’re not allowed to come until I tell you to.”
I whimper, the need inside me growing unbearable. Every touch is a fresh wave of pleasure, driving me closer and closer to the edge.
“Open your eyes.” He orders softly.
I obey, meeting his gaze. His eyes pierce mine with possessiveness. He leans down, his lips capturing mine in a soft kiss that quickly deepens, his tongue demanding entrance. I open for him, our mouths moving together in raw passion .
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs against my lips. “So desperate, so needy. Do you want me to make you come now, darling?”
“Yes,” I breathe, the word a desperate plea. “Please.”
He smiles, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Not until you beg for it properly.”
I swallow hard, my pride warring with my overwhelming need for release. “Please, Grayson,” I beg, my voice shaking. “Please let me come. I’ll do anything you want.”
His smile darkens, satisfaction radiating from him. “Good girl. Now look me in the eyes and come hard for me.”
He quickens the pace of his hand with his eyes searing into mine and the tension inside me shatters, pleasure crashing over me in powerful waves. I cry, my body arching against the restraints as my orgasm consumes me. Grayson doesn’t stop, his fingers continue their relentless assault, prolonging my release until I’m gasping for air.
When the waves finally subside, I collapse against the pillows, trembling and spent. Grayson releases my wrists from the headboard, his touch gentle as he rubs the circulation back into my arms. He pulls me closer, his lips pressing a kiss to my forehead .
“You did so good for me.” He murmurs, his voice filled with pride. “I have some work to do with this Conejo situation. Get cleaned up while I’m out, I’m taking you somewhere tonight.”
My stomach is filled with a mix of shame and butterflies. He wants to make sure I don’t leave once all is said and done and he’s doing a damn good job making me want to stay.