Page 54 of Fury
I set my mug down and straddle his lap in one fluid movement, surprising us both. "The kind where you don't get to touch me for a week."
His hands immediately find my hips, gripping possessively. "That's a punishment for both of us, don't you think?"
"I'm willing to make the sacrifice if it means teaching you a lesson about boundaries," I reply primly, though I can't help squirming slightly as his thumbs trace circles on my hip bones.
"Hmm." His eyes darken as he studies me. "And what if I promise to behave? What's my reward?"
I lean forward until my lips brush his ear. "Be good tonight, and when I get home, I'll show you just how much I've missed you."
A growl rumbles through his chest as his arms tighten around me. "Deal."
As I settle back against him, content with the knowledge that I've won this round, I can't help marveling at how quickly my life has transformed. A month ago, I was a different person—uncertain, searching, afraid of the very connections that now sustain me.
Now, cradled in the arms of a man who would move mountains to keep me safe, surrounded by a family and community that accepts me for exactly who I am, I finally understand what I've been looking for all along.
Not escape. Not freedom from my past. But the courage to embrace it, to find my own place within it, and to build a future that honors both where I come from and who I choose to be.
Tonight's girls' night is more than just about having fun—it's a step toward that future. A declaration that I am both Greyson's woman and my own person, capable of standing in this world without hiding behind his protection.
And as his lips find mine in a kiss that's equal parts tenderness and possession, I know with bone-deep certainty that I've finally found where I belong.
"Speaking of tonight, the party bus will be here in a bit," I say, glancing at the clock. I’ve been ready for the last thirty minutes, excited about the evening ahead of me.
Greyson's eyes darken as he follows my gaze to the time. “Plenty of time," he murmurs, his voice dropping to that dangerous octave that makes heat pool low in my belly.
"For what?" I ask innocently, though I can feel his intentions pressing against me through our clothes.
"For me to give you something to remember me by while you're out having fun."
Before I can respond, he stands in one fluid motion, lifting me with him. I wrap my legs around his waist instinctively as he carries me through the house, but instead of heading upstairs to the bedroom, he makes for his home bar in the corner of the living room.
"Greyson, what are you?—"
His mouth captures mine, swallowing my question in a kiss that's all possession and hunger. When he sets me down, it's to spin me around and press me forward until my palms flatten against the polished wood of the bartop.
"I need you to remember something while you're out tonight," he growls against my ear, his large body caging mine from behind. His hands slide possessively down my sides to grip my hips. "Need you to feel me with every step you take."
One hand snakes around to unbutton my jeans while the other pushes between my shoulder blades, bending me farther over the bar. I should protest—we're in the living room, in broad daylight—but the raw need in his voice ignites something in me.
"Yes," I breathe, arching my back to press against him.
He makes quick work of our clothes, his movements urgent and almost rough. When he enters me with one thrust, the feeling of fullness is so overwhelming I cry out, my fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth bartop.
"Mine," he growls, setting a relentless pace that has the bar creaking beneath us. "Say it."
"Yours," I gasp, each thrust driving the word from my lungs. "Always yours."
His fingers tangle in my hair, pulling just enough to arch my neck back. "Every man in that bar tonight is going to look at you and know," he starts, his voice strained with the effort of his movements. "Know that you belong to me. That you're coming home to me."
The possessiveness in his words should offend me, but instead, it sends me spiraling toward the edge, my body clenching around him as pleasure builds to an almost unbearable level.
"That's it," he encourages, one hand snaking around to circle my most sensitive spot. "Come for me, Livie. Let me feel it."
When my release hits, it's with a force that steals my breath, my vision blurring at the edges as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me. Greyson follows moments later, his body tensing as he drives himself impossibly deeper.
For several minutes, we stay like that, his weight a comforting pressure against my back as we both struggle to catch our breaths. Finally, he straightens, helping me up and turning me to face him. His expression is a mixture of satisfaction and something deeper, more vulnerable.
"I love you," he says simply, the words falling between us like stones in still water.
