4. Riley
4
RILEY
L arge hands grasp my shoulders as I rebound backward into the bathroom door, momentarily stunned. Fear renders me paralyzed for a second, thinking Bertram has taken advantage of my moment alone to corner me. However, as I lift my head, it isn’t his malicious face that I’m met with. No, this face has similar features, but they don’t come together to form Bertram’s grotesque shape.
Instead, it’s Grayson’s hard stare that greets me. He looks pissed. Actually, that’s an understatement. He looks livid. Downright murderous.
I’d be afraid, except the way that he’s slowly reeling me into his arms until I’m tucked against his chest, something fragile and precious to be protected, quells any panic.
“We only have a moment, but when your mother returned to the table without you, I needed to make sure you were okay,” he murmurs against my ear. “What did she say to you?”
“Nothing worth repeating,” I whisper, sinking into his embrace. It still throws me when Grayson is sweet like this. It’s almost like he’s two people. For the most part, he’s the raging, possessive asshole who loves to drive me crazy. Then, when I’m right on the verge of dick-punching him, he reveals this softer, caring side and ultimately throws me for a loop.
“Did your dad say anything?”
“Nothing useful.”
While I was arguing with my mom, Grayson was trying to figure out his father’s angle. What is this game that he’s playing?
“So tonight was a bust,” I sigh. “Can we get out of here now?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Pulling back from our embrace, he drops his hand to mine, quickly squeezing it. “You go back to the table first. I’ll be right behind you.”
I nod before walking out of the hallway where the bathrooms are and back into the restaurant. I’ve barely taken my seat at the table before I see him striding across the restaurant, his stare fixed on us. However, his eyes aren’t the only ones I feel on me.
“This has been… lovely,” he states once he reaches the table. He remains standing, fingers curling around the back of his chair as he continues, “But I have to head out.” He glances my way. “Riley, can I give you a lift somewhere?”
“That would be?—”
“No need,” Bertram intervenes with a tight smile and a tick in his jaw. “I’m happy to give her a ride home when we’re finished.”
Yeah, no fucking way.
“Nonsense,” Grayson retorts, his charismatic smile still glued in place. “I’m sure you two lovebirds would rather have some time alone, and it’s a perfect opportunity for Riley and me to get to know each other .”
“That would be perfect, Grayson,” my mother purrs, jumping on the opportunity as she clamps her hand possessively around Bertram’s arm. “You’re such a sweetheart.” With her bright, plastic smile still in place, her eyes slide to mine and harden in warning.
Yeah, like I want to spend another second in either of their presence.
I don’t bother saying a word—I couldn’t force out a fake pleasantry even if I wanted to—as I get up from the table before following Grayson toward the exit.
The fresh air is a welcome relief against my heated skin as we wait for the valet to bring Grayson’s car around. We stand there in silence, both of us lost in our thoughts. I can feel the tension radiating from Grayson. He can probably feel the same thing emanating from me. Even though I know they can’t see us from inside the restaurant, I can still feel the lingering weight of Bertram’s sick stare. It’s an effort not to scratch at my skin, and I desperately need a shower, even though he never touched me.
Just being in such close proximity to him is enough for me to break out in hives.
When the valet appears with the car, we both climb in—thankfully without Grayson going apeshit on the valet this time. I’ve barely gotten my door closed before he slams his foot down on the accelerator, and the wheels spin on the gravel before we shoot out of the parking lot.
“Grayson!” I gasp, reaching for my seatbelt and hurriedly buckling myself in.
“Sorry,” he grinds, his hands fisting the steering wheel and his focus solely on the road in front of us. “I just have to put as much fucking distance between us as I can.”
Now that we’re encased inside his tiny car, the tension I felt from him before escalates, multiplying tenfold until it practically chokes me.
Concerned, I peek at him from the corner of my eye. His expression is haunted, his teeth grinding as he glares out the windshield. The leather steering wheel creaks beneath the pressure as he squeezes it.
With each mile that zips past us, the tension winds tighter, the car growing hotter until it becomes stifling. The silence sits heavy in the air, like a bubble I’m too afraid to pop—not while he’s driving, at least.
When we’re halfway between Springview and Halston, he suddenly pulls on the steering wheel. The car squeals as it lurches ninety degrees, and I’m thrown back in my seat before he presses on the accelerator, and we speed up a single dirt track road I hadn’t noticed before.
“Uhh, Grayson?” I hedge, suddenly a lot more nervous than I had been before. I’m not afraid of him. I’ve never, not once, been fearful of Grayson or his moods. It’s his mindset that worries me. Did being faced with his father push him too far over the edge?
He doesn’t answer me as the car bumps over the uneven ground, the Xenon headlights bobbing and dipping as they highlight the dirt road, tall grass, and tree trunks as we pass by. It'll be a miracle if his tires don’t get a puncture.
The trees grow thicker around us until they blot out the sky overhead, and the thick canopy casts eerie shadows over the car, making the darkness feel denser somehow. Grayson cracks his window, the scent of damp earth and pine infusing the vehicle. As we crawl deeper into the forest depths, I glance nervously at Grayson, his profile sharp in the dim glow of the dashboard lights, giving nothing away.
I return my focus to the front windshield in time to see the trees part, and before us, a space opens up, bathed in the soft light of the moon. An old, crumbling church stands in the middle of the clearing, its skeletal frame silhouetted against the night sky. Ivy creeps up its walls like grasping fingers, and broken stained glass windows glint ominously in the moonlight.
I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as we pull to a stop a short distance from the ruins. There’s something eerie and otherworldly about this place, but at the same time, it’s hauntingly beautiful in its abandonment.
Grayson turns off the engine, leaving the headlights on and bathing us in silence. The only sounds are the rustle of leaves in the night breeze and the distant hoot of an owl.
I can feel Grayson’s emotions thrumming in the air around us, thick and heavy like a storm gathering on the horizon. The tension between us is palpable as I stare steadfastly out the windshield and wait…
My gaze runs over the weathered remains of the church. Parts of the roof have collapsed, and the windows are all either missing or smashed. It’s a place frozen in time, abandoned and forgotten, yet still standing.
Beyond the church, I notice the tops of headstones peeking through the tall grass, a forsaken cemetery reclaimed by nature.
I can’t help but feel a sense of awe at the sight. Despite the years of neglect and the relentless onslaught of the elements, the church still stands, a testament to its resilience and strength. I’ve faced my own battles, my own struggles. I’m missing pieces, parts of me that were torn away by trauma and hardship. But, like the church, I’m still standing. Still fighting. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll weather the storm too.
My gaze slides to Grayson as I wonder whether he, too, will be able to survive the storm or if the harsh winds of his past or the torrential rain of what’s to come will pull him under.
Or perhaps it will be the storm that rages within that will take him out.
I patiently wait for him to work through his feelings, but minutes pass, and still, he sits in silence beside me, his hands clenched tight around the steering wheel.
Then he snaps. He drives his fists into the steering wheel repeatedly, pummeling the leather as he hisses and snarls. Wide-eyed, I watch as he breaks.
Crumbles.
Decimates.
Heaving heavy breaths, he keels forward, sliding his hands into his hair, his forehead resting against the steering wheel. His voice is raspy with emotion when he finally speaks, his knuckles red. “I don’t know how you fucking did that,” he seethes. “How you managed to sit there. I wanted to launch myself across the table and rip his head from his shoulders. Every second was fucking torture.”
I can hear the strain in his voice. He put on a good act at dinner, appearing unaffected. I don’t think I realized until now just how hard that was for him. To sit opposite his father, knowing he abused his mom. That he might have killed her. Knowing that and having to pretend that he didn’t.
“I thought of Aurora.” My voice is loud in the small confines of the car despite having spoken the words softly. “Every time it became too much, I thought of her and knew I could endure another few minutes— for her .”
Still hunched over, Grayson lifts his head from his hands and turns at my admission. His wild gaze latches onto mine like I’m a lifeline before the anger gradually seeps out of him, slow and steady, until all that remains are the vulnerable emotions underneath—the ones he never allows himself to actually feel.
“Everything is so fucked.” Shaking his head, he exhales heavily. “I don’t have any right to complain when I don’t even understand how you’re still standing. I shouldn’t have made you come tonight.”
“You didn’t make me do anything, Grayson. I chose to go tonight. To confront Lydia, but also because Bertram still has so much power over me. I’ve learned to accept what he did to me because Aurora came out of that horrific time, and she is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
“But Bertram is still a constant presence stalking me from the shadows. Peering over my shoulder and following my every move, even when he was behind bars. As terrifying as it was, I had to go tonight. Not because he all but demanded it. Not because I want to play his game.”
Glancing down, I fiddle with the hem of my dress. “As a teenager, he was this omnipotent, all-powerful being. He had full control over me. I needed to prove to myself and him that he was not in control anymore. I am. I’m not that terrified teenager he remembers. I took the damage he caused, and I built myself a suit of armor that is in-fucking-domitable.”
Pushing open the car door, I step outside. After my little speech, Grayson appeared incapable of any sort of verbal response. He merely stared at me with admiration and lust and something far more primal that heated my skin and made a pulse throb between my legs until I couldn’t sit in the car a second longer.
The cold air is a balm to my frayed nerves. It’s the end of February, and although the worst of winter has passed, it’s still bitingly cold once the sun goes down. I’m not dressed for exploring, but I find myself drawn to the old church regardless.
“Riley,” Grayson chastises as he steps halfway out of his car. “What are you doing? Get back in the car.”
Because taking orders from Grayson is something I’ll never do, I ignore him as I climb the uneven steps at the front of the church. The wooden door has rotted away in places, hanging open at an angle on the rusted hinges.
Glancing back over my shoulder, I flash him a grin before I slip inside. The interior is dimly lit by the moonlight filtering through the missing roof tiles and broken windows, the air cool and musty against my skin. While my eyes adjust, I turn on the flashlight on my phone before holding it out in front of me and doing a sweep of the room.
The floor is littered with debris, fallen leaves, and bits of broken stone crunching beneath my feet as I pick my way down the aisle between the empty pews. The silence is deafening, broken only by the sound of my own breathing echoing off the walls as I run my hand along the rough wood of the nearest pew, feeling the years of history beneath my fingertips.
The light of my torch catches on a rotted Bible sitting on the bench, its pages yellowed and brittle with age, before I swing my phone toward the front of the church, where an altar stands beneath a faded and molded tapestry. Its surface is cracked and weather-beaten, the once-golden trim now tarnished and dull.
Despite its dilapidated state, the church has a sense of grandeur, a feeling of reverence that hangs in the air like a tangible presence.
“Riley,” Grayson hisses from the doorway, having seemingly followed me. “You’re going to break your goddamn ankle walking around in the dark in those heels.” His footsteps echo off the walls as he stomps down the aisle toward where I’m standing. With each thud , my heart races, and I turn to face him as he approaches.
The moonlight glances off his sharp features, casting half his face in shadow and making him appear like a dark god in the dim light—powerful and menacing yet undeniably beautiful.
There’s a raw energy about Grayson that sends shivers down my spine, and despite the fear that gnaws at the edges of my mind, it’s excitement that pulses through my veins.
I can’t tear my eyes away as he stalks closer, his every movement deliberate and controlled. There’s a magnetic pull between us, a tension that crackles in the air like electricity. When he stands before me, his dark eyes ablaze with emotion, I feel a thrill run through me unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
“Grayson…” There’s a question in my tone, one that has him cocking his head. “Remember that time you chased me through the field?”
His eyes narrow, however it does nothing to hide the spark of excitement I see hidden in his dark depths at the memory.
“Chase me.”
“Riley…” Unlike before, there’s a strain in his voice as he says my name. He wants to; I know he does.
“Chase me, Grayson.” My voice is barely a whisper in the silent church. “You brought us here because you wanted to forget everything for a little while… I want to forget too. I want to escape this pain, if only for a few moments.” I can feel the weight of my agony pressing down on me, threatening to crush me beneath its unbearable weight. But in this moment, with Grayson’s hungry gaze fixed on mine, I’m desperate for a reprieve, however fleeting it may be. “Chase me, Grayson.”
I’m already slipping off my heels, first my right one, then my left, until I stand barefoot in front of him, my soles pressed against the cold stone.
A range of emotions flit across Grayson’s face—uncertainty, desire, hesitation—before he finally settles on one: Want.
Pure, unadulterated need .
“You want to run, Tempest?” The deep purr of his voice is both sinful and seductive. I catch a flicker of something dark and intense in his eyes as he leans in, warm breath caressing my cheek before he whispers, “Then you better pray that I don’t catch you, ‘cause when I do, I’m going to force you to your knees and make you scream my name until you’re hoarse.” His lips brush tantalizingly against my skin, eliciting a full-body shiver as my temperature spikes. “By the time I’m done with you, there will be no question over who you belong to.”
Adrenaline courses through my veins—a heady mix of excitement and fear, anticipation and exhilaration, as if I’m about to flee from a predator, and yet I can’t help but feel a thrill at the chase.
A primal urge takes hold and implores me to run, escape, and forget.
With the heat from his body wrapped around me, Grayson plants a taunting kiss on my jaw as he strokes a light finger down my opposite cheek, before he rasps in a thick command, “ Run .”
With a quick intake of breath, I turn and sprint down the aisle. My heart pounds in my chest. The slap of my bare feet against the stone echoes off the walls of the old church. Behind me, I can hear Grayson’s footsteps matching mine, the sound like a drumbeat in the darkness, driving me forward, pushing me to run faster, to forget everything but the exhilaration of the chase.
I can feel the heat of his breath against the back of my neck, and before his fingers can reach out and grab me, I grab ahold of the back of a pew, using it to change trajectory as I run between the benches to the far side.
A hysterical laugh bursts from my chest as he growls, before quickly changing direction to pursue me once more. My gaze darts frantically around the ruins in search of an escape route until I spot an archway that leads outside. The door is missing, and putting on a burst of speed, I race through it and into the overgrown cemetery.
The moonlight is brighter out here, lighting my way as I weave between the forgotten headstones. I can no longer feel the bite of winter against my flushed skin as I run like my life depends on it.
My heartbeat whooshes in my ears, and I so badly want to look behind me and see where Grayson is, but I don’t dare. I can feel him close by as I sprint between the crumbling graves, my heart pounding and anticipation thrashing in my veins.
Against the soft grass, Grayson’s footsteps are indecipherable behind me, but I can feel his presence hot on my heels. With every step, the tension between us crackles in the air, electrifying and exhilarating. It’s a game of cat and mouse, only there’s nothing playful about the way his intense, predatory energy consumes the space between us.
It’s primal, raw, and entirely exhilarating—fleeing from a predator yet secretly hoping to be caught.
In the final moments before his fingers reach out and grab me, time seems to slow, each heartbeat echoing in my ears like a drumroll of anticipation. My breath comes in ragged gasps, the cold night air burning in my lungs.
I feel the heat emanating from his body seconds before his fingers slide into my hair, fisting the back of my head and dragging me backward.
My back meets his hard chest, and he uses his grip on my hair to tilt my head to the side, exposing my neck. His breath dances over the shell of my ear, heavy with exertion and need.
“You might be able to run from reality, Riley,” Grayson growls, his voice low and menacing. “But there is no running from me. ”
As if to cement his point, he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of my neck, sucking on the skin until it’s raw and bruised.
Releasing me, he runs his tongue over the bite before using his hold on the back of my head to force me to my knees right there in the middle of the cemetery. The ground is unforgiving against my knees, but it’s a welcome pain—a pleasurable one.
No more words are needed as he shoves me forward onto my hands before flipping up the back of my dress. My panties are wrenched to the side before he drives two fingers roughly into my tight channel.
I cry out at the intrusion, my back bowing as he finger fucks me. I’m so wet already that I can hear the squelch of my excitement with every powerful thrust of his fingers.
“There is no outrunning this,” Grayson growls from behind me as he continues to destroy my pussy and send me careening head-first toward what I already know is going to be an intense orgasm. “There is no outrunning the fact that you. Are. Mine.” He presses down on the bundle of nerves as he says those last three words until I detonate on his fingers with a scream that bounces off the headstones and drifts into the sky.
My pussy is still spasming with aftershocks when I feel his blunt head pressed against my entrance before he slams inside in one long thrust.
“ Fuuck,” he hisses when he’s fully seated inside me. His fingers dig into the skin of my hips with enough force that I know I’ll have bruises tomorrow. “I won’t ever get enough of this. The way you strangle my cock, Tempest. Holy fuck.”
He moves then, pulling back before slamming in. He uses his hold on my hips to yank my ass back into him, sending him impossibly deeper as I whimper and moan.
My fingertips dig into the earth beneath my hands. Soil embeds beneath my nails, and my arms tremble as I struggle to remain on my knees against the crashing waves of pleasure rolling through me.
“Grayson.”
“Fuck,” he hisses. Leaning over me, he fists my hair and forces me to arch my spine. It limits his movement, but the new angle has his dick hitting the perfect spot as I moan louder. He sucks on the other side of my neck, leaving a matching mark before he rasps, “Say my name again.”
“Grayson,” I cry out, my voice a breathless plea as I teeter on the edge of oblivion.
“Fuck, I love it when you say my name like that while you cream my cock.”
God. I’m a sucker for dirty talk, and his filthy words send me careening over the edge. Birds take flight from nearby trees, and I’m sure the ghosts that haunt this graveyard are peering out at us from behind their headstones as I scream out in pleasure.
Grayson grunts in my ear as my pussy squeezes the cum from his cock until we’re both left sated and breathless. My limbs are jelly as I collapse onto the ground, feeling our combined release drip out of me.
I’m still half out of it when I feel Grayson push open my thighs, and I raise onto my elbows to peer at him over my shoulder. His eyes are glued on the junction between my legs, and he stares enraptured, as if incapable of looking away. I’m about to ask what he’s doing when his fingers press against my entrance. A moan slips past my lips before I can swallow it back, and his gaze snaps to mine as he pushes our cum back inside me.
“Need to make sure you’re still carrying my seed when we get home. I want them to smell me all over you.”
Holding my stare, he makes my pussy flood with renewed heat when he slaps my inner thigh before smirking and fixing my panties back into place.