Chapter 11 #2
He hums in approval at my body’s response, letting the string snap back into place.
“Let’s play a game,” he says, rubbing his hand down my ass until he reaches the joint of my leg.
“I want to see how you’ve mastered your passions.
” My belly trembles as he grazes his fingertips over the seam of my panties, too dangerously close.
“If you’re not turned on, I’ll stop. I’ll cuff myself to the floor.
But if you are…” He pauses right before touching me.
“Then you’re going to confess all those dirty sins to me. ”
“I’m not playing your game, Grayson,” I say, my voice cracking, my body locked in anticipation.
“Hmm,” he intones as he pulls the slightest distance away. “Wrong answer.”
He grips the band at my hip. I hear the snap of material, feel the bite of it tearing against my skin as he rips my panties away. The sudden assault of cool air between my thighs reveals my arousal before he even confirms.
Then his fingers are there, touching me, rubbing and parting me open to him, where I can’t deny anything.
“Fucking Christ,” he mutters on a dark groan. “You’re so fucking wet, London. Soaking.” As if he can’t restrain his own response, he grinds the hard length of himself against me, his finger sinking inside me.
I gasp at the intrusion, my muscles clenched tight, my eyes sealed shut, as the needy ache flares and deepens. He’s there to answer it, pushing in a second finger. His other hand finds placement around my throat, squeezing just hard enough to restrict my movement, to hold me against him.
“God damn, you’re testing my control, London.” He unleashes a low growl as his fingers fuck me slowly, dipping inside with marked restraint to feel me, pushing in deeper, slower, teasing me apart.
Fire builds in my muscles, and I swallow against the press of his hand collaring my throat, nearly shattering when his thumb grazes over my clit. Each excruciatingly slow pass and pungle nearly breaks me.
“You lost any rational control over your mind the moment you did this—” My words clip short as he forcefully tows my leg over, spreading my thighs wider, his knees preventing me from moving.
His body caged around mine, the edge of the desk digging into my stomach, Grayson thrusts his fingers deeper, ruthlessly drawing a throaty moan from me.
He makes a smug sound of satisfaction. “We did this to each other,” he says roughly into my hair before his fingers are gone. I gasp in a ragged breath, my body trembling. “Time for my pretty liar to confess her sins.”
Without warning, he grasps my hips and rolls me onto my back, forcing me to face him.
Our eyes meet—and there’s no way to deny this is happening between us.
I’m instantly lost in those beautiful pale blues that could promise acceptance and shelter, protection from my fears and darkest secrets.
Yet I know those eyes lie, that his acceptance also comes with the deepest cruelty.
“This can’t happen, Grayson. Just don’t…please.” My plea slips from trembling lips. I blink hard, trying to sever the connection between us, to stop his knowing eyes from staring right down to the sick truth of me.
He clasps the slope of my neck, tilting my face up to him, his lips hovering too close to mine.
“I can talk you through it, doctor. If that’s what you need, I’ll be your bad guy and feed your body every salacious desire you crave without you having to ask, but—” he pauses, those intense eyes clashing with mine “—you have to give me something in return.”
Fear prickles my senses, but before I can refuse, his lips crash against mine, swallowing my cry of protest. His mouth moves against mine in demand, his lips soft yet strong, as his tongue invades the hollow of my mouth with claiming swipes.
The taste of him is all raw need and burning hunger, smoky flint and wild ocean. It’s seductive and intoxicating, and I’m drowning in him.
When he breaks away, I’m left shaken, drugged, watching the blue of his eyes blaze with hunger as he licks the taste of me on his lips, waiting. I don’t give him any response, and he takes my silence as answer enough.
A devilish smile twists his mouth, his words a rasp against my lips as he whispers, “That’s my good doctor.” Then his hand clamps tight around my throat before he forces me back against the desk.
The chain drags across the center of my body, and a strangled cry escapes my swollen lips as I latch onto his wrist, the metal cuff too solid beneath my weak attempt to fight free.
But soon my struggle is drained when his fingers expertly work the buttons of my blouse open, his heated gaze devouring me as he exposes my sheer lace bra.
“Fucking beautiful,” he mutters, dragging his hand over my breast, pinching my nipple between his fingers hard enough to earn a shaky moan from me. His hand grips my thigh, and he roughly drags my ass to the edge of the desk.
Something wild and depraved flashes in his gaze before he releases my throat and drops to his knees. There’s one hesitant moment where I think of escape, then the feel of his mouth surrounding me steals the last of my fight.
Fingers gripped to my thighs with bruising intent, he licks me up the seam of my pussy, dropping an appreciative groan that rocks through me with a violent shiver.
“Oh, god…” It escapes without permission, and I bite into my bottom lip to hold back any further sounds.
Grayson grazes his teeth over my clit, and my back arches off the desk. “Look at me, London,” he demands, the rumble of his coarse words a torturous friction against my sensitive skin.
Pulse slamming my veins, I open my eyes, meeting his intense stare through the haze of lust. Seeing him between my parted thighs is so fucking erotic, I sense myself grow wet, and his eyes darken.
“Tell me how turned on you got watching my videos,” he demands.
Inhaling a ragged breath, I shake my head. “No.”
A devious smile tips his mouth before he fucks me with his tongue, drawing another desperate sound. He holds my gaze, diabolical, as he says, “I want to hear you admit it.”
“I wasn’t turned on,” I snap.
“Liar,” he growls, licking harder, forcing my hips to lift upward. “You couldn’t tear your eyes away. Admit how aroused you were seeing Giselle tortured. Bound. Confessing her sins.”
My breath quickens as forbidden imagery floods my mind. And when he thrusts two fingers inside me, seeking out the needy ache deep within, I almost surrender. He’s never called his victims by name before. It feels too intimate, stirring a deviant desire within me.
My body curves toward his touch, my fingers going to his hair, nails tracing his scars—and I clench around him.
He groans, curling his fingers inside me. “Your body tells the truth, even if you refuse to,” he breathes over me. Those deceptively beautiful eyes hold me bound to him as he licks over me.
Every stroke of his tongue sets my blood aflame, my body trembling as he brings me right to the brink before he pulls away. I cling to the last dregs of my control as he tightens his hold and bites into the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh, eliciting a breathy moan.
“I’m inside you now, under your skin,” he says, fingers pushing deeper. “I want to break you, so I can piece you back together.”
I shiver at the promise held in his threat, and when he rises and lowers himself over me, I can’t hide my torn emotions from him.
He brushes my hair from my eyes, the action so tender it steals my breath. “You’re my match.”
I shiver at his words, the conviction I read in his eyes.
“Does that terrify you,” he whispers.
“Yes.”
A cruel smile slants his mouth. “You think I’m sick.”
I swallow. “Yes.”
He is sick—and yet, he’s all I can feel…all I want to feel.
It’s ecstasy, and it’s hell.
I’m burning.
His tongue drifts across his lip as he pushes my bra down to touch me, and I arch against him, greedily pressing into his palm, letting the hellfire consume.
He releases a low growl, fingers still deep inside and expertly working me closer to the edge as his other hand feels across my breast, tugs at my nipple.
At my sharp cry, his restraint comes undone.
His fingers fuck me harder, ruthlessly plunging deeper.
Inhibitions burned away, my body betrays me with each moan and undulation as I seek release. I’ve never been this exposed to anyone, and I crave to lose myself to him in this one moment because soon…
Grayson will be gone.
An ember of guilt flickers into the mounting pleasure—but I’ve already set my world on fire to indulge this one stolen moment. My mind clings to this refuge, knowing it’s the only way I’ll escape him.
He senses the moment I let go completely and shifts above me, his hand closing around my neck. His fingers thrust deep, his thumb pressing relentlessly against my clit. “Say it, London. Tell me who you are—admit your fucking truth to me.”
He never stops stroking, caressing the ache building inside me, his grip tightening around my throat until I’m breathless. The erotic sensations swallow me, pulling me under, and I want to taste the freedom just once.
“Killer,” I whisper.
Baring this truth unleashes a wave of pleasure. Fire courses through me, searing my muscles and liquefying my bones, the orgasm consuming as it tears through me like wildfire.
Grayson’s deep groan vibrates against my skin as his mouth finds the soft flesh between my neck and shoulder. His teeth sink into my skin as I arch into his hand, shamelessly grinding against him as I ride the last euphoric tremors.
As I come down, my senses slowly returning to me, the heavy fall of our breath is loud in the quiet room. I crash back into reality, realizing with a sobering dread what we’ve done.
Grayson strokes my neck, tenderly inspecting the mark he’s left behind. “I see you, London,” he whispers. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” His lips brush mine in a slow, claiming kiss—a stark contrast to the intensity we just experienced.
My body and mind feel over sensitized, raw from his abrasive touch.
For a heartbeat, I allow our tongues to tangle. My hand presses to his chest, feeling the thunderous rhythm of his heart against my palm. When he thrusts the hard length of himself between my legs, reigniting my arousal, I turn away and break the kiss.
“No,” I say, drawing my shirt together. “This is done.”
As I retreat toward the edge of the desk, his hands slam down on either side of me, trapping me in place. “You’re scared, but this is far from done. The moment you say it aloud, there’s no going back, London. Once it’s unleashed, you can’t lock the monster back up.”
Despite Sadie’s warning of this exact, frightening outcome, I meet his eyes with defiance. “Watch me.”
I shove him away, evading his reach as I hurry toward the bathroom, grabbing my torn underwear as I pass. I splash cool water on my face, avoiding the mirror. If I look at myself, I’ll be forced to face those haunted memories, and I’m far too vulnerable to confront them right now.
When I regain some composure, I cautiously step back into the therapy room, where Grayson is shackled to the floor once again. Everything feels eerily undisturbed, as if I hallucinated all the sordid things that transpired over the past half hour.
But then Grayson’s pale gaze lifts to mine, a knowing smirk lingering on his lips. “Same time tomorrow, doc?”
I tug at my blouse and smooth the fabric, uselessly trying to erase all traces of him—of us. His touch is branded into my skin.
Without a word, I exit the room and summon the officer, reminding myself that it’s done. This is over. I’ve made mistakes before, yet I have never fallen for a patient.
And no matter how strong the connection between us, I refuse to fall for Grayson—for a killer.