I want it—and I know he wants that, too.
“You should.” I tug at his pants again, then slide my hand into his waistband. I wrap my fingers around his cock. He’s hard and waiting for me, and he doesn’t object when I push his pants off his hips. His erection appears, and my mouth waters.
Before I can go down on my knees, he shoves my leggings down to my ankles and spreads my legs. He lifts me by my thighs, slamming my back harder against the wall. I can’t wrap my legs around him like this, with my ankles essentially bound. I’m at his mercy, and his grip on my thighs makes me squirm. He takes a breath, looking between us. There’s no foreplay, no waiting. He runs the tip of his cock through my wetness, as if testing, then thrusts hard into me.
I arch my back, my lips parting. He fills me completely, and I realize how much I needed this. He pauses for a moment, taking it in, until I squirm again. He pulls out slowly, then pushes back in. He hits a deep spot inside me, and stars burst in front of my eyelids.
Soon, he’s increased his speed. I tighten my hold on his shoulders and let him go at a punishing pace. The only noise between us is the slap of skin and our harsh breaths. The hallway just to my left is silent, the stadium beyond us dark. I could believe that it’s just us in the whole damn building.
“Touch yourself,” he orders, his eyes boring into mine.
I obey without question, slipping my hand between us and rubbing quick circles on my clit. My cunt clenches around him at the sudden wave of new sensation. It isn’t enough, though. I crave the connection—all of it. He wants to unchain my demons? I want to climb inside his skin and stay there forever.
What do I do when even this close isn’t enough?
“Kiss me,” I beg.
He finally obliges, leaning down and capturing my mouth. His tongue sweeps along my teeth, tasting every inch of me. I crave the invasion. I want him to fill me up completely, because I’m not sure I am even a person anymore. I don’t know who I am or who I’m supposed to be, and part of me needs him to guide me there.
We keep up the furious pace until an orgasm crashes through me. I tense again, whimpering his name against his mouth, and it knocks him over the edge, too. He comes with his lips on mine.
He pulls out of me and lowers my feet to the floor, but immediately his hand is between my legs. He thrusts two fingers inside me, pressing his body to mine. Keeping me pinned to the wall. “I can’t fucking wait for the day you have a baby in your belly,” he says in my ear. “And even though you’re on birth control, and you have a dance career ahead of you, I want you to picture our future every time I come inside you. Every time I push my cum back into your pussy.”
Ugh. What a fucking turn-on.
“Come on,” he says suddenly, pulling away from me.
I let out a groan, the loss of him sudden, and yank my pants back into place. He chuckles and offers his hand again.
“I scored a hat trick,” he informs me. “And we have a party to attend.”
48
VIOLET
I’m buzzing by the time we get back to Grey’s house. My skin is electric. I feel like I keep lighting up where he touches me—which is everywhere. His hands are on me constantly, roaming my body. The possessiveness in him has me panting for more.
I don’t let myself think about how fucked up this is.
For once, I go with what I want.
We maneuver together through the crowd. His hand is on the back of my neck, guiding me along with him. And telling every other guy in this place that I’m his.
I shiver, and he catches it. He gives me a wicked grin, and I smile back. I don’t know what to do with the anticipation riding through me. It’s eating me up inside.
We end up in the kitchen, where Erik mans a long row of liquor bottles. He gestures to us. “Want something special? On the house for the man of the hour.”
Grey smirks. “I live here. And I chipped in for the booze, asswipe.”
Erik laughs and pours him a drink. Grey takes a sip and passes it to me.
“What is it?” I peer into the cup. It’s an orange-ish opaque color, and it smells sweet. I take a sip—and don’t taste the familiar burn of alcohol. It’s not bad, actually. “You know what? Don’t tell me.”
Grey laughs. “Give me tequila. Straight up.”
“Yes, sir.” Erik mock salutes, then grabs a bottle and gives Grey a hefty pour.
Grey knocks his red cup against mine and takes a swig. I mimic him, swallowing another mouthful of the sweet drink. He leans forward and tips up the bottom of my cup, keeping it raised until I’ve drunk the whole thing. Then he tosses my cup into the sink, finishes his tequila, and grins at me.
“Dancing,” he says.
Heat unfurls through my chest. I don’t argue when he leads me into the living room, my hand gripping his tightly. The music is louder in here, the lights dimmer. There are strands of red LED lights strung along the ceiling, casting everyone in an eerie glow. I shake out my hair. Grey spins me into him, catching me carefully at my waist. The room tilts, and I blink rapidly. It gives me a strobe light effect, slicing the dancing couples around me into still frames.
I giggle and slide my hands up his chest.
We move to the beat—it’s hard not to with it pounding through us—and inch closer. He doesn’t go for my lips, though. I hold the back of his neck as he lowers his lips to my throat. Every stinging bite sends more lust crashing through my bloodstream. I dig my nails into his skin when he goes lower, pushing my shirt out of the way.
He kisses my collarbone, the tops of my breasts. His hands keep me upright.
I don’t fucking care that we’re not alone.
He grinds his hips against mine. His erection digs into my abdomen. I slip my hand down and cup him through his jeans. He groans and lifts his head. His fingers thread around the back of my neck, into my hair. He holds my head carefully, although his gaze is fucking heavy.
It conveys everything he wants to say—but doesn’t.
Every fucking promise.
I look pointedly at my watch.
It’s eleven.
Only one hour left until his prize expires.
“Patience,” he mouths.
I run my nail along his skin at the top of his jeans. Just an exposed little sliver. But he shakes his head at me, silently reprimanding me. I want to drag him into the bathroom and tell him to fuck me. I want a million orgasms, and I want to see the expression on his face when he comes. Once wasn’t enough.
I need more.
But demanding Grey to do anything has never worked in my favor.
So I bite my lower lip and let him sweep me along for the ride. Whatever he has planned.
We dance until my legs are numb. I drink another cupful of the juice, not caring that it’s getting harder to open my eyes. The floating sensation doesn’t go away.
Midnight comes and goes, but I don’t think Grey has to worry. I’m still going to do whatever the fuck he wants.
What he has done is tease me. Repeatedly. Every dance, every shift of his thigh, which has inched between my legs and settled against my core, has me on edge. I’m a sweaty mess by the time he finally stops moving. Our dancing was erotic, bordering on dry humping, but no one cares.
And the party has filtered down to a more… intimate setting.
Maybe that’s what he was waiting for.