Chapter 29
Me: Can you come home for a minute?
My phone rings a heartbeat later.
“What’s wrong?” Greyson snaps over the line.
“Nothing, you grump. Can you just come here for a second?” I chuckle.
“We don’t text.”
“Yes, I know. Are you coming or not?” Heavy boots pound up the metal stairwell.
The door swings open, phone still to his ear, as he responds, “I’m here.”
He takes in every visible part of the apartment, looking for a problem or threat.
I planned it perfectly, waiting for a day the part-time employee was on shift while I lured Greyson upstairs. It’s taken me days to build up the confidence to make my move, and now that I have my chance, I’m freezing.
Ever since he took my pleasure with my own hands, I’ve been bonkers horny. It was never like this with Carter, not in the early days when he was putting on his Mr. Perfect act, and definitely not after we got married.
I’m not sure I’d ever been properly aroused before I met Greyson, because the pulsing need between my legs hasn’t abated since Valentine’s Day.
My unrelenting Greyson-craving is nothing new. My desire for him has grown with every stolen glance and grumbled pleasantry. It’s reached its inevitable boiling point.
“What’s goin’ on, Mia?” He’s going to crack a tooth if he grinds any harder.
When I don’t answer, he drinks me in. This morning, I dressed in stay-at-home mom chic, otherwise known as stretchy pants and a T-shirt or crewneck sweatshirt.
After taking the girls to school, I did a mini-pamper session, ensuring I’d be soft from head to toe, and smell irresistible.
Greyson’s intensity could catch my clothes on fire, and I’d gladly burn to please him.
“That’s my shirt,” he growls.
“It is. How do I look?” I tug on the hem playfully.
“Like mine.”
He’s across the room in a few long strides, his hands gripping my hips through the thin cotton of his well-worn T-shirt. It hangs just long enough to cover my ass if I stand still.
“What’s this about, Mia?” His grip tightens so hard it bites with pain I welcome because it’s proof he wants me.
“I’m showing you I’m ready for everything you promised.” His hands move around to my ass, fingers teasing the dangerously high shirt hem, callouses rough against my skin.
“Refresh my memory.” Greyson steps closer, his belt buckle digs into my stomach, and stubble scrapes against my cheek as he inhales the peaches I put on just for him.
“You promised to take me when we weren’t exhausted from a long day with the kids.”
“Mmhmm.” He brushes my hair over my shoulder to nuzzle into my neck, his hot breath somehow giving me chills.
“You promised to take me when we had the house to ourselves, so you could take your time.”
“Kids are at school.” He states the obvious, his length thickening against my hip. “What else did I promise, honey?”
“To make me beg and scream until I’m delirious with pleasure.”
“Which you will, because you want to be my good girl, don’t you, Mia?”
Fuuuuuck. This man could melt snow off a mountain with that mouth.
“So badly.” My admission comes out as a shaky breath as his hands explore higher beneath his stolen T-shirt
“Did I promise anything else?” Greyson pulls my hips into him, grinding me onto his raging erection.
“Umm…uh…” I can’t think when he’s touching me like this.
“I promised there’d be nothing preventing me from bringing you pleasure, nothing in the way of proving my love for you with my body. I promised to take care of you because you’re fucking mine. You tellin’ me you’re giving yourself to me fully? Because I’ll take and take until there’s nothing left.”
“Yes. I want you, Greyson. I need you, please,” I pant.
“I told you nothing would stop us.” He fishes his phone from his pocket and dials out on speaker.
“Greyson, love! How are you, my boy?” Cecelia coos across the line.
“Can you pick the girls up from school, keep them overnight, and bring them back before school tomorrow? Please, and thank you.”
“Absolutely, oh, what a treat—” Greyson ends the call without letting her finish.
There’s a clatter, but I have no idea where the phone lands, because all I can focus on is the way he hoists me up like I weigh nothing, wrapping my legs around his waist. I yelp, afraid he might drop me, and then yelp louder when his hand cracks down on my ass cheek.
“What th—”
“Honey, you best learn quick. I take care of what’s mine. In what world do you think I’d ever let you fall?”
“I—”
Another slap lands on my exposed ass.
“The right answer is, no, I’d never let you fall. And why is that?” he asks, the question mocking, but his tone neutral.
“Because I’m yours, and you take care of what’s yours,” I parrot, leaning back to see his stormy expression.
“That’s right, honey.” He soothes the sting of his slaps by kneading the tender flesh.
He walks us down the hall to our bedroom and leaves the door wide open, something we never do, because he can.
We have complete privacy until tomorrow morning, plenty of time to christen the apartment by sunrise.
Greyson relaxes his biceps, slowly lowering my feet to the floor, every inch of my body pressed against his on the way down.
“Turn around and put your hands on the bed.”
I obey without a thought.
“Good girl.” A full-body shiver quakes through me. “You know what I think, Mia?”
“What?”
“I think you need me to take control.” His hand rubs down my spine, stopping at the cleft of my ass.
“I think you’re desperate for your mind to be empty from life’s stress and to be consumed by pleasure.”
He lifts my T-shirt inch by inch, his respiration rapid and sharp in the silent space.
“Fuck. What are you doing to me?” He explores the contour of my body, from my waist, over my hips, around my ass, and down the backs of my thighs.
“Giving you control.” I flip my hair to look over my shoulder at the force of nature that is Greyson Clark.
“Take me. Use me. I’m yours.”
Blackness consumes his eyes as his tightly-held composure snaps.
He gathers my hair into his fist, wrapping the rope around once, twice, tilting my head back until my scalp stings from the pull.
“Damn right, you’re mine.” His other hand snakes up the front of the oversized T-shirt, to find my breasts bare. “Jesus,” he groans, squeezing my tits one by one.
“Elbows on the bed, face down, ass up,” he orders, releasing my hair from his grip.
Again, by body moves unbidden.
“Good girl,” he praises, making my back bow deeper, lifting my ass higher. Calloused fingers walk up my vertebrae, bunching the shirt around my shoulders.
“Seeing you in my clothes pleases me. And you love to please me, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.” It slips out. My face heats with embarrassment and I bury my face in the bed.
“Fuuuuuck,” Greyson groans, painfully gripping my hips, grinding his denim-clad erection into my ass. “I shouldn’t love that as much as I do.”
I whimper, aroused beyond measure knowing I turned him on.
“Are you going to be such a good girl for me?” The words coming from his mouth is filthy, the depravity has my pussy clenching around air.
I nod frantically. Greyson’s spank forces a gasp from the bottom of my lungs.
“Yes, what? Mia?”
“Yes…sir.” His growl is confirmation he wants this as much as I do.
“Looks like we’ll be exploring this new dynamic, together.”
“You’ve never done this before?” I ask, insecurity roaring in my ears.
“No, honey, this is just for us.” His reassurance is exactly what I need to hear.
I bend my neck so I can see around my legs. My jaw drops as Greyson toes off his boots and tosses away his socks. Saliva pools in my wide-open mouth as he unbuckles his belt and undoes his jeans.
Unphased by my leering, he reaches into his jeans and squeezes his hard cock, now stretching his boxer briefs to their limit, desperate for relief.
Greyson drops to his knees behind me, dragging my simple, cotton thong to my ankles. Once he removes it, I widen my stance. He brings the fabric to his nose and deeply draws in my scent. I flush hot. Why is that so dirty, and intimate? And why do I love it?
He tucks them into his back pocket, no intention of returning them to me.
Before I can recover from the shock, he spreads my ass cheeks and drags his tongue from my clit to the place I’ve never been touched. I flinch and his fingernails dig into my ass, holding me in place. He repeats his path over and over again, until my legs are shaking.
“Why does that feel so good?” I whine.
“Because I own your pleasure, and I’ll always give you what you need.” He roughly cups me where I’m soaked between my legs.
“This pussy is mine.” One finger drags through my slit, drawing another whimper from my throat.
“This ass is mine.” His thumb presses gently on my tight hole.
Greyson stands, rubbing his cock on my ass, his underwear damp from pre-cum. He guides me to stand with his hands wrapped around my ribcage. He painstakingly removes the T-shirt hindering his full control and palms my breasts.
“These tits are mine.” I nod, not a thought in my head other than please.
He dips two fingers back through my wet pussy. His other hand widens my jaw so he can shove his fingers coated with my arousal into my mouth. I’ve never tasted myself before, but it doesn’t bother me one bit, and the fact that it turns Greyson on makes me love it.
“This mouth is mine.”
“I’m yours. All of me,” I pant.
“Good girl. Center of the bed, on your knees, ass on your heels, and hands on your thighs.”
“Yes, sir,” I say instinctually, while precisely following his directions.
My fingers itch to touch him as he removes his shirt with one hand behind his neck. He removes his wallet from his low-slung jeans and reveals a condom.
“Been carryin’ one just in case,” he says, chagrined, shucking out of his jeans.
“But you had a vasectomy.”
“I did, but I want you to feel safe and comfortable, honey. I haven’t been with a woman in years and have a clean bill of health. You were never given a choice before. You deserve to choose what happens with your body.”
Now is not a moment I want to cry, but this man is more perfect than I could’ve ever dreamed of.