Page 75 of Wicked Minds
He growls frustratingly, and when he shifts, I feel his very hard length pressing against my abdomen.
“Don’t you realize you were mine first?”
His hand lifts from my face, and I barely have time to suck in a breath before it’s replaced with his lips. His kiss is bruising. The starting cry before a battle. His tongue infiltrates my mouth, a weapon he wields with precision as he cuts through my defenses.
Urgency undercuts every swipe of his tongue and I can feel his desperation in the solid grip he has on the back of my head, holding me in place as though terrified I’ll disappear.
It’s a kiss that speaks of unending hunger. His, but also mine. How is it I can loathe Grayson until our bodies collide, and then unfathomable need blasts through me, and any common sense I possess is obliterated?
I’ve caught him staring at me multiple times this week. Hell, only a few hours ago, he was glaring at me from across the food court, looking about ready to rip Logan’s arm away as he escorted me outside. I’d been assuming his anger was directed at the fact his friends were spending their time with me instead of him, but as his words replay in my head, I wonder if I read him all wrong.
He presses me harder into the stacks, the feel of him everywhere scorching through my train of thought as our mouths move against one another, bruising and hard as they engage in a primal dance. Our touches are desperate, a union born from a craving that borders on madness.
It’s only when his hands move beneath my clothes with fraught haste, that a slither of sanity breaks through, and I bring my hands up between us, pressing against his chest.
I’m not sure if he misinterprets me, but he growls into my mouth, only kissing me harder as his hands continue their exploration of my skin.
“Grayson,” I hiss into our kiss, shoving harder against his chest.
“I fucking need you, Riley,” he rasps, sounding completely gone to this insanity that exists between us.
When he tries to capture my lips again, I sink my teeth into his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, forgetting that I’m dealing with a psychopath who finds my violence a turn-on and only grinds himself more insistently against me as copper floods my mouth. My own depravity raises its head, a whine escaping me before I can swallow it back as my hips buck against his. Need crashes through me, and I momentarily forget what an epically stupid idea this is. Grayson is just so… consuming.
Logan is sweet and loving.
Royce is filthy and crass.
But Grayson… Grayson is wild and untamed. He’s a storm to be unleashed, and I’m helpless to outrun him.
Plunging head first, I succumb to the insanity.
Sensing my surrender, Grayson nips my lips in approval, his hands roaming over my ass in the skirt I wore today because I wanted to see the way Logan’s eyes lit up when he picked me up this morning, and feel Royce’s hands without the denim barrier of jeans when he inevitably placed his hand on my leg under the table at lunch.
I’m lifted off my feet as Grayson presses me deeper into the stacks, spreading my legs wider so he can wedge himself between them. With nothing except my tights and panties as a barrier, I can feel every inch of his hardness as it digs into mycore, and a needy whimper spills from my lips as I shudder against him.
“You drive me crazy,” he groans, moving so our cheeks are pressed together, his large hands clasping the backs of my thighs as he rocks against me. “The noises you make. The way you smell. I can’t stop thinking about how good you felt squeezing the cum from me.”
I make an incoherent noise of agreement as I rub against him, too far gone to pull back.
His hand moves between us, and he rips a hole in my tights with a growl before pushing my panties aside and shoving two fingers roughly inside. I’m practically dripping with need, the wet suction audible to the entire aisle as he curls his fingers.
“Fuck,” he hisses at the same time I cry, “Oh, God.”
A sharp pull on my hair, and my heavy eyes snap to his. “Not God, baby. I’m the one who has you dripping on the fucking floor while you strangle my fingers. You’ll saymy goddamn namewhen I’m the one making you feel so good.”
To really drill his point home, he presses down on my clit while he massages my inner walls, and stars burst to life behind my eyes as I cry, “Grayson.”
“Much better,” he purrs, continuing his assault on my pussy. “I want you to remember whose taste is in your mouth, whose fingers are in your pussy while you come for me.”
“Grayson,” I pant deliriously. “Please. I need to come.”
“What you’re feeling right now… that desperate ache that you have no choice but to sate… that’s how I’ve felt every fucking day since I chased you down in that field,” he growls in my ear.
“Now imagine having to watch some other man satiate that need, knowing he’s touching what rightfully should have been yours.” I moan, feeling the beginnings of an earth-shattering orgasm scrape along my nerves. “I’ve wanted you since you were fifteen and had no idea how depraved my desires for you ran,” hecontinues. “I’ve wanted you while hating you. While I watched you be with my best friends. I want you even while everything in my life spins out of control. You are the epicenter around which everything else revolves. I can blame you. I can hate you. But through it all, I can’t stop myself fromwanting you. Now, come for me so I can fuck you and finally think straight.”
His words are delivered with an embittered, demented tone. Half-frustration, half-possession. All the while, his fingers continue their practiced ministrations, coaxing my orgasm forward until it barrels through my veins, clenching my muscles and bowing my back as I cry out.
My head is still in the stars when I hear the unmistakable snag of a zipper, and snapping my eyes open, I push against Grayson’s chest. “Grayson, no.”
