Page 134 of Wicked Minds
My voice breaks, and still, we remain locked in place. His wide eyes bore into mine. Anchoring me while simultaneously making me feel like we’re lost at sea together. “I planned it all out,” I tell him, confessing what I’ve never told another living soul. “I stole some of my mom’s sleeping pills and I planned to slice my arteries open in the bathtub. Figured I’d bleed out or I’d drown. Either way, I won.
“Only, the week before I intended to do it, I started getting sick. Every morning, I’d roll out of bed and have to dash to the bathroom, and my breasts were tender all the time. I think I knew at that point, but I ignored it at first. Coughed it up to nerves. But on the day I was due to… I couldn’t go through with it without making certain, so I bought three different pregnancy tests on my way home…” My breathing is shallow as I confess, “And all three of them were positive.”
Grayson’s eyes slam shut, excluding me from his inner turmoil as his chest expands with a shuddering breath. He’s trapped in a war.
With himself.
With his father.
With me.
His fingers reflexively twitch against my skin, the urge to tighten his hold almost overwhelming as his hips jam against mine.
I suck in a gasp before a surprised laugh barks out of me, and instead of flattening myself against the wall like he probably expects, I slide my crotch along his.
“Even knowing the truth, youstillhave a hard-on for me.”
“Shut up,” he hisses, eyes snapping open andblazingwith rampant emotions too raw and exposed for him to navigate.
His hand around my throat shakes with the restraint of holding himself back, and knowing I’m probably bringing about my own demise, I lift my chin and repeat the action, slowly dragging my clenching core along the thick rod of his erection.
He hisses in a breath, the chaotic maelstrom of emotions whirling within him, stuttering out one by one. I do it again, smirking when I discover he’s even harder than he was before. His thick cock pumping with blood.
My head tilts to one side. “Huh.”
His eyes narrow on me. “What?”
With another torturous drag of my pussy along his length, I muse aloud, “I’m wondering if your issues aren’t so much to do with what you thought I did to your father, and more to do with the fact that, even believing I screwed over your family, youstillwanted me—stillwantme.”
With a snarl on his face, Grayson leans in. My heart thumps in anticipation as his warm breath dances over my skin, before the wet heat of his tongue scrapes along the column of my neck. Goosebumps erupt up my arms, shivers racing down my spine.
“You drive me in-fucking-sane.”
My back arches when he wraps his lips around my ear, my words coming out huskier than I intend, “Right back atcha.”
The dam breaks. Crumbles into rubble.
I’m not sure who makes the first move, but in the next second, my hands are beneath his shirt, nails digging into the muscles of his back as his fingers press into the skin of my upper thighs hard enough to leave bruises as he hauls them around his waist.
Our lips collide like opposing armies on a battlefield, a tumultuous clash for dominance that neither of us is willing to concede.
His shirt is torn from his body, without any recollection of whether I was the one to destroy it or him, and my top gets shoved up to my neck, bearing me fully to him.
His hand comes to cup my pussy, a feral growl reverberating between his lips as he curls his fingers between my folds before sliding into me knuckle deep.
I groan, back arching and pressing my peaked nipples against his hard chest as I writhe on his fingers. I’m already halfway there when he pulls out, and I whimper at the loss. He chuckles arrogantly, the sound of his pants being ripped open echoing through the room before I feel his blunt head at my entrance.
He keeps us both on the edge as he brushes the tip up and down my slit, my heels digging into his ass and fingers leaving crescent-moon shapes in his shoulders.
Right as I’m about to snarl at him to hurry the fuck up, his eyes snap up, clashing with mine, and his grip on my hip turns painful as he slams into me to the hilt.
“Ohmygod,” I garble, all of my muscles locking as he pistons ferociously into me. Pain skims pleasure, sending me teetering on the edge of euphoria. My head falls back against the wall, eyes hooded as my hands roam Grayson’s alabaster chest.
Shifting me in his grip, his new hold forces my knees up and farther apart, enabling him to hit deeper.
I whimper, babbling words that make no sense as our hips meet in a fierce collision of primal urgency. A ferocity born of frustration as much as attraction.
There is an undeniable urgency to our meeting. One that speaks of paths untraveled, futures that could have been, romances that were never had—if only life had played out differently for us.
