Page 192 of Wicked Minds
A groan that sounds like half pleasure, half pain bubbles out of him, his pupil-blown stare fixed on me as I do exactly what he said andusehim.
A few more thrusts and a sheen of sweat gathers along his temples.
“I’m not going to stop until you submit to me,” I spit at him.
“Riley,” he rasps, head falling back as his hips shift ever so slightly before he manages to stop the action.
“Repent, Grayson.” I jam the knife so hard into his neck that he winces but doesn’t pull away. He takes every rock of my hips. Every stab of my knife. Every slap of my words.
“Repent!”
He flinches, a red bead gathering on his neck before it spills over, carving a crimson path down his throat before disappearing beneath his jacket.
“Fuck, Riley,” he hisses, but I can’t tell if it’s from pleasure or pain. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I should never have done that to you. It was fucked up.I’mfucked up.” He somehow manages to laugh, a cold and demented noise that sounds all wrong. “I’m clearly my father’s son.”
I stall on top of him, staring at him with wide eyes as his admission sinks in.
“Move!” he bites out. “Use me. I deserve this.Youdeserve it.”
Without giving it much thought, I begin to move again, teeth clenched as I choose to ignore his confession for now. “You’re right,” I admit slowly. “I do deserve this. I deserve to come and feel that moment of world-stopping bliss, and you deserve to be deprived of it.”
He groans, understanding that I’m ordering him not to come, and we fall silent as I take my pleasure until my walls clench around him. He curses under his breath as I fist the front of his jacket and sink into that moment where the world stops turning and my problems stop existing, and there’s nothing except warm skin and hard breaths and pleasure.
Falling forward, I rest my forehead against his shoulder. “I regret many things, but this won’t be one of them,” I say breathlessly.
“Good,” he croaks. “You should never regret claiming back pieces of your dignity. Especially when those pieces were stolen in the first place.”
We remain there, in that moment, his hard cock still inside me and my face pressed against his jacket until the cold seeps in, forcing us apart.
When I pull back, I catch sight of the trickle of blood running down his neck. Perhaps I should feel bad, but all I feel is vindicated. He’s left plenty of marks on me. About time I returned the favor.
Dragging my stare to his face, I find him watching me. “This changes nothing,” I tell him. “I’m still not yours.”
“I know what this was. And you’re right, it changes nothing, because you, Riley James, have always been mine. One day soon, you’re going to realize that.”
Before I can stop him, he smacks a quick kiss on my lips before easing me off him, and I’m too wrung out and stunned to correct him as we both fix ourselves. However, before we leave the room, Grayson catches a hold of my arm and brings me to a stop. I turn, staring up into his face, wrought with indecision.
He licks his lips, hesitating before confessing, “My Gran has Alzheimer’s disease. She’s been saying all these things recently.”
My eyes search his face, seeing this for what it is. “About your mom?”
He nods. “And about you. She—She was the one responsible for my dad’s arrest. I didn’t know if anything she was saying was true, but I found this box in her closet at the nursing home… It contained papers proving Dad had embezzled from the company. When she heard he’d been arrested, she gave the police the evidence they needed to charge him with something.”
Tears sting the backs of my eyes as I press my lips together. He goes quiet, his head hanging, so I can’t see his face, but I sense there’s more. “What else was in the box, Gray?”
Slowly, he lifts his face to mine, and the desolation there slices me open. “There were pictures of my mom. Her journal. He—he abused her. Terrorized her. If Gran is correct—and she has been about everything else—he might have killed her.”
“Grayson.” His name is etched in pain. “I’m sorry.”
He merely nods.
“So before that day… I knew. I knew before you told me. I believed you.”
“Ah, so that’s why you didn’t choke me out,” I tease, attempting to bring some levity to the conversation and take away some of the devastation hanging over him like a raincloud.
“I should have listened earlier.”
I give a one-shoulder shrug. “It is what it is. Regrets won’t do either of us any good. You believe me now, and that’s what matters.”
