Page 19 of Grimm

“Don’t you do it without permission,” he warned through gritted teeth. He thrust harder, his balls slapping against her ass cheeks.

“Oh fuck, please!” she snapped, clawing at his hand playing with her tender clit. “Please, I have to. Oh, please.” She dragged out her words as his cock plowed into her again and again. The sounds of their bodies colliding together mingled with her own pleas, begging for her release.

“Almost,” he promised “Beg more.”

“William, I swear— So good— I’ll be so good. Please— I can’t wait— Oh please!” she screamed.

He raised himself until her gaze locked on his own. “Come, Daniella. Come hard, sweet girl. Do it for me.”

She unraveled beneath him before he’d finished his last word. Her cries of pleasure drowned him as he continued to fuck her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as her pussy clenched around him, throwing him into an abyss of pleasure waves and into a utopia-like daze.

His body exploded. Stars danced before him. He went statue still as every bit of his orgasm washed through him.

When he ebbed back to the same plane as Daniella, he found her smiling up at him. He kissed her, hard and unrelenting.

“What do you say?” he asked, when he pulled back from the kiss.

She reached up and kissed his chin. “Thank you?”

He stared at her, words failing him. She’d kissed him.

“Good enough,” he said roughly. He then rolled to his back, pulled her with him and draped her over his chest.

She snuggled up to him after he flipped off all the lights in the room.

“I should hate you,” she whispered into the darkened room.

He placed his hand over hers on his chest. “You should.”

“But I don’t.”

Chapter 7

The room adjoining William’s was decorated in much softer tones. Instead of the harsh dark mahogany furniture and deep gray walls, creams and light blues contrasted here.

Daniella sat on the king-sized bed, opened the first box, and pulled out the stack of clothes. At least William’s men hadn’t simply rolled up the items but had folded them into the boxes. She slid her favorite sweatshirt over her head and tugged it down around her hips with a sigh.

Having her own things with her didn’t help make her feel any less uncertain. Unpacking and packing again a few months later had been her normal for most of her life. Staying low under the radar, not causing trouble, just get through the time unscathed, those were the ways she’d survived.

But William wasn’t letting her fly under the radar. When he wasn’t searching her out physically, he invaded her thoughts.

Her mind knew what she should be doing. Instead of spending the day before wandering around his estate, enjoying the beauty and simplicity of his home, she should have been finding the little unguarded crevices. She should have been seeking her way out of this place.

Maybe that was why she hadn’t unpacked the day before like he’d suggested. She’d grabbed an outfit for the day and had gone about her explorations. And then, when the sun fell behind the trees and darkness reigned over the sky, William had found her again in his bed and led his own explorations.

She could still sense the electricity of his kisses against her skin. He had a way of looking at her that made everything inside her melt. And when he pressed that first kiss to her lips—she’d been lost to him.

As much as her mind knew what she should do, the rest of her continued to take the clothing out of the boxes and lay them on the bed to organize them. Was this room going to be hers now? On the vanity was a row of perfumes and a box filled with makeup. None of it was her style, and they weren’t new.

She opened the closet and found that it was as large as William’s but not as full. Hangers lined up neatly along the racks with a random shirt or dress hanging here and there. Whose bedroom was this?

She took a handful of the hangers out to the bed and began hanging her sweaters. The adjoining door swung open and William walked in.

“Here you are.” He sounded annoyed.

“Should I be somewhere else?” she asked, trying to lighten her tone.

With furrowed brows, he flicked his gaze from the piles of clothes on the bed to the sweater she was working onto the hanger.

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