Grayson (The Kings of Brighton Book 3) by Megyn Ward

Author:Megyn Ward [Ward, Megyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-10T18:30:00+00:00

TWENTY-THREE

Grayson

I KNEW THIS WAS GOING TO HAPPEN.

Following her through the lobby to her hotel suite, I knew.

I knew we’d find our way here again.

I knew it and I followed her anyway. Barely even put up a fight.

Because I want to be here.

I want it more than I’ve wanted anything in my life.

I want to be with her, even though I know I don’t belong.

Even though I know I can’t stay.

Instead of thinking about that I focus on where I am right now.

I’m with her.

I’m with Delilah.

Not Delilah Fiorella.

Not the rich, spoiled heiress.

The vapid, reality-show celebutante.

I’m with her.

I’m with who she really is.

And no matter how wrong it is or what I know is going to happen later, I can’t walk away from that and I can’t let her walk away either. If she’d listened to me, if she’d tried to walk away when I told her to go, she wouldn’t have made it through the door.

I know that now.

I would’ve gone after her. Dragged her back. Down to the floor to push myself between her legs. Myself inside her and she would’ve let me. She would’ve begged me to do it—hard and fast. Her nails biting into my back, clawing at me while I relentlessly pounded her into the cold, hard tile with my thick, rigid cock. Over and over. Again and again. Until my name was tearing itself up the length of her throat on a breathless scream and her slick, swollen pussy tightened around me like a fist. As good that sounds, as good as it would have felt, it would’ve been over too soon.

It wouldn’t have been enough.

I could’ve done it a thousand times and it still wouldn’t have been enough.

Not for me.

So, instead of fucking her, I worship her.

Keeling at her feet, I wash away the dirt and blood and ugliness of what happened last night, her fingers curled slightly in my hair.

I stand slowly, running my soapy hands up the line of her inner thighs. Over the swell of her hips. The curve of her waist. The swell of her breasts, the soft intake of her breath jerking at my cock when I brush my callused palms against their hard, swollen tips.

“Gray…” I can hear it. The need in her. How ready she is. I could fuck her right now. Lift her. Pull her thighs apart. Open her wide. Pin her against the shower wall with my cock. Stroke myself into her, hard and fast. She’d be wet. Slick. She’d moan my name, her nails raking across my shoulders while I fucked her hard and deep…

“Shhh…” I shake my head at her, telling her to be quiet because I’m hanging on by a fucking thread. Because if she says my name again, it’s going to snap and I can’t let that happen. If I’m going to do this, I want to do it right. I want to do it better. I want it to be something worth remembering. Not a quick, angry hook-up in a stairwell.

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