Chapter 34 Mona
While I normally would say that a man of Grayson's size is incapable of being sneaky, he is surprisingly light on his feet. But there's no mistaking his shadow as it fills my doorway.
I was awake, unable to sleep. Irritated and angry. I might have dozed off, but a door shutting down the hall woke me.
And now, Grayson's watching me in the dark, waiting for…
"Grayson?"
His eyes glow green as he stands there, filling the frame.
He can see me just like I can see him in the near darkness.
His cinnamon scent takes on a burnt edge, like a blazing campfire.
The flames lick up my skin, the heat of him pulsing through me.
Like a switch, he allows his alpha dominance to seep through his pores.
It crawls over to me, and I can almost feel it scorching my skin.
I should tell him to leave, but I can't. I don't. My thoughts race between all the good and the bad.
Him looking just like Silas, then the way he made me feel when he called me his mate.
When he accused me of being spelled by the witches—which, technically, turned out to be true.
Taking care of me, and everyone else, incurring my wrath just to keep me safe.
And last night. The things he did to my body, the way he took control and only gave. He didn't ask for a single thing.
That part of him—the giver, the protector—keeps snagging on my anger. Melting it down into something else.
Grayson is exactly what he appears to be, and that's the problem. There's no mystery to unravel, no misunderstanding. I know precisely what he wants as he stands there, silently waiting for an invitation. That a man like him even waits for permission…
He takes a step closer, his features emerging from the shadows. Nothing about Grayson is conventionally attractive. His brow is too heavy, the breadth of his shoulders is too vast. There's a terrifying, primal energy he carries around like a cloak, but it's a part of him.
I should be intimidated, at least, by a man built for violence, but I find myself mesmerized. My pulse quickens with each step he takes.
"You should be sleeping," he says.
I swallow. "So should you."
We stare at each other for a moment. He tied his hair all the way back. I don't know what possesses me, but I throw the covers off and climb out of bed.
He towers over me. But when I reach up, he leans down and meets me partway. My fingers trace from his temple to the back of his head, and I swear he shivers. He leans further down, and I grab the tail of the leather strap and tug. His hair spills around his ears.
"Better to guide me with?" he muses. And it takes me a second. But then I remember what they did to me last night. How I clutched Orion's head between my legs and moved him where I wanted.
Slick, Grayson called it. It floods out of me, and I can both see and hear his reaction. He takes a deep inhale and grunts. Without taking his eyes off me, he kicks off one shoe, then the other. The sound of them hitting the ground feels like a nail in my coffin.
Like this is the end of the line. There's absolutely no going back after tonight.
If I let him stay.
The full moon is coming. It's bright outside, and the light spills into the room, casting harsh shadows along his already sharp angles and lines.
I hold my inhale, waiting for his next move.
One corner of his mouth lifts as his hands find the hem of his shirt.
He peels it off in one fluid motion. His torso is nothing but ridges of packed muscle.
A wolf's paw print tattooed on one thick pec.
I lose count of his abs. Biceps so massive, lats and shoulders so stacked, the tapering of his narrow waist carves a perfect V-shape that cuts into his hips and pelvis.
All that raw strength, and still, he waits. My fingers have a mind of their own, reaching forward, tracing the hard contours of his chest. My fingertips follow the arrow of muscle that disappears beneath his waistband.
Grayson's alpha growls, and my hand shakes—but still, I trace and feel. It's like stone. Smooth and hard.
My mouth waters and I suck in my lip, barely breathing.
"Are you here to apologize?" I ask shakily.
"Nope."
I almost laugh. He quirks an eyebrow, the gesture somehow both playful and predatory.
We stare each other down, his eyes blazing with challenge as his gaze travels from my eyes down to my neck and chest. His hands move to his belt, sliding the leather through the buckle with deliberate slowness.
The metal clinks as he unbuttons the top of his jeans.
I have to swallow the saliva gathering in my mouth. I can't look away.
He pushes his pants down. Of course he's not wearing anything beneath them. My pussy clenches when his thick length springs up. My perfume grows thick in the air, sweet and strong. It coats my tongue, blending with his cinnamon fire.
My eyes follow the trail of fine hair leading to his cock. My heart is racing. Pounding now.
"What—" I clear my throat. "What, umm…"
I feel like an idiot. I mean, I've had sex before. Plenty of times. Okay, I'm no seasoned lover, but I'm pretty sure… I've just never seen…
I force my gaze up and find Grayson smiling. Fucking laughing at me, silently, shoulders shaking.
"What's the matter, baby?" His rough voice coos.
I point my finger at his chest—then down. "What is that?"
He grips his cock and my entire body freezes. A whimper spills from my throat and my insides squeeze. Empty. Too empty.
"I guess this is one of those things you don't learn from human biology." He takes a step closer to me, and his cock bobs. I step backward, tripping over his shoe. But I right myself, then the backs of my knees hit the bed. He moves until I'm forced to sit down, and I'm eye-level with it.
"It's called a knot. Give me your hand."
His cock itself is massive. Long, so thick I'm not sure my hand would wrap around half of it. I've never… I don't think that'll fit. But that's not even the worst of it.
I can't tear my eyes off the other thing—the thick, bulbous shape at the base of his cock. It looks as if it's pulsing. My hand reaches out and I bravely circle my palm around it, though my fingers do not touch. Grayson hisses.
I test the texture, flexing my fingers. It's soft—softer than anything else on his body, anyway—but when I squeeze, it pulses back against me.
"What's a knot?" I ask. My throat feels dry.
His hand wraps around mine, then he squeezes so tightly it must hurt because he's nearly crushing my fingers. But the expression on his face—euphoric.
"Alpha and beta males have them around their cocks. They swell inside your pussy when we come. It locks us together."
"Wh-why—what, umm—"
"It's a biological thing. For procreation. It only swells for your mate."
"Oh." So… he's never used it before. My omega flutters at the thought. That this one thing belongs to us.
He's silent, and for a second, I assume he's laughing. But when I look up, there's nothing funny in his expression. His hand squeezes mine again and his knot pushes back.
"Will it hurt?"
Slowly, he drags his head left and right.
"I don't umm… I don't want to get pregnant. Now, or… not yet. Jesus," I rasp, pulling my hand away and dropping my forehead to my hand. Grayson kneels down in front of me, pulling my hands into his.
"You have an IUD, right?"
"How do you know that?"
He shrugs. Fucking Doc.
Instead of getting mad, I sigh. "Yes."
"Then you won't get pregnant."
"Human birth control methods work against—"
"Only the IUD. Pills won't do shit."
Huh. Well… in that case. I look down, trying to avoid the appendage between us, suddenly feeling very awkward. Unsure of myself or what to do next.
Grayson slides his hand under my chin. I think this gentleness is actually making things worse. But then his fingers curl and grip, forcing me to look directly into his eyes.
"I'm gonna show you what a knot feels like. Nod if you understand."
I swallow. Then nod.
He grins, teeth flashing. And then he stands, pulling me with him, lifts me up and practically tosses me onto the bed, wasting no time stripping me down.
Sleep shorts first, then my tank top. I'm not wearing a bra, and when he nudges my knees apart with his, I expect him to take hold of himself and push inside me, but he lowers his mouth and sucks my nipple between his lips.
I arch when he sucks hard enough to make me gasp. The noise that tears from my throat is undignified, but I don't care. He growls, lips bruising as he works his way down my body.
"You taste so fucking good," he growls. He peels my underwear off with one hand, tossing them aside, then pauses, settling between my thighs. My spread knees make me feel even more empty, and I find myself twisting and arching, reaching for him.
But his knees keep me from moving, and he takes his time, leaning in again, sucking on my tits.
"Grayson—" My voice is high, breathless. "Please—"
He doesn't let up, and the pressure builds until I'm shaking, gripping his hair, pulling him closer. When he pulls away, his gaze is fixed on me. Self-consciously, I try to close my legs, but he makes a tsk sound.
He slips two fingers in first, stretching me, working me open.
His tongue follows, and everything narrows to the hot, wet pressure of his mouth and the relentless, patient opening of his fingers.
Slick runs down my thighs, making wet sounds as he laps me up.
When his other fingers slide higher, brushing against my clit, I nearly spring off the bed.
And then I do it: I grip his long hair and ride against his face.
I can feel him chuckle, but I'm beyond caring.
His fingers twist and work themselves inside me, and I'm devolving into a primal animal, chasing pleasure, not caring how I sound or look.
I use his face how I want, and he complies every step.