His forehead touches my shoulder, and he comes harshly. His breath hits my skin, raising goosebumps. I’m stuck where I am, my fingers frozen around the table. My cunt clenches around him, but what he gave me isn’t enough to give me relief.
“When I do finally let you come, it’ll be the best orgasm you’ve ever had.” He pulls out and immediately pulls my leggings back up over my ass. “But until then… enjoy every sensation like it’s your last.”
Well, fuck me sideways.
49
GREYSON
I wake up to Violet grinding on me in her sleep.
At least, I think she’s asleep. Her eyes are closed, her leg thrown over mine, but her hips rock into my thigh. Her lips are parted, her hair all askew.
Naughty girl.
I twist toward her and gently push her shoulders until she’s flat on her back. Her face twists at the loss of contact, and I smile. She’s feeling the effects of not coming. I pushed her to the edge again… and again… and again. It wasn’t planned. I was going to give her the best orgasm of her life—as I told her—last night.
But something twisted.
Nothing she did. It was me. The perverse side of me that enjoyed her trying to make me get her off. Like she’s got a choice in the matter.
I part her legs and scoot down, resting between her thighs. Her cunt is a beauty. She trims with deadly accuracy. She smells intoxicating. I lean into her and inhale, then flick my tongue out. Just a little taste.
She shudders, and I slide my arms under her thighs. I lift her ass slightly, giving myself a better angle.
May as well give the girl what she wants.
I lick her again and find her clit with my tongue. I suck it into my mouth, then move lower. I explore her, taking note of what gets a subtle reaction. When her thighs tense, when she squirms in an effort to avoid the pressure. I thrust two fingers inside her and press on her G-spot. In and out.
Fascinating.
I want to spend the rest of my life pulling Violet apart piece by piece, inspecting how she works, how she was made, and then putting her back together again.
Her first orgasm is a big one. As I predicted. She comes with my lips around her clit and my fingers in her pussy. Her thighs squeeze together, and her back arches off the bed. I glance up, taking in her expression. Her eyes still shut, her mouth parted. Maybe this just goes along with the dream she’s having.
I reach up and palm her breast, brushing my thumb over her stiff nipple. And then I dive back into her.
God, I couldn’t have predicted how obsessed I’d be with her. How much I’d enjoy all of what she gives me. Even the irritating parts.
I meant it when I said I loved her, but it’s terrifying, too. I felt, in that moment, like I was offering my heart out for her to do with what she pleased.
But she didn’t stomp on it. She looked scared, and I can fucking relate to that. I didn’t want to tell her I’m terrified. My only example of love is my parents, and we all know how that ended. In a word: badly.
It just took me a little while to realize that their marriage didn’t contain love. They might’ve started out that way, but it became about appearances. That’s why my mom left, why Dad probably didn’t let her even think about taking me with her.
The Single Dad trope hits hard with the voters.
Destitute father left by mother and son? Not so much.
After meeting Violet’s mom, I have to wonder how much love Violet was shown. Between her shitty mom and her dead father.
We’re both part of the dead parent society. That club no one talks about that fucking sucks, but it’s also a bit of a comfort.
She comes again before she wakes up. And when she does finally open those pretty eyes, shifting and trying to roll away from me, I don’t let up. She gasps and pushes at my head, but I’m dug in. My fingers pump in and out of her, I’ve got her taste in my mouth, and I want another climax.
Vi shudders, moaning something unintelligible at me.
Is this how it’s going to be for the rest of our lives? This addiction? This feeling in my chest like I’m inflated with helium?
“Grey,” she murmurs. “What are you—ah, God—”
I grin and move my tongue harder against her clit. Her third wipes her out. I relish the feel of her pussy clenching at my fingers, and then she relaxes. I climb up her body, hovering over her, and kiss her throat.
“You’re my favorite person on this planet, Violet Reece.” My confession meets her pulse point. “And we’re going to wake up next to each other for the rest of our fucking lives.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my hips.
I don’t need much more prompting to slide inside her wet cunt.
Perks of sleeping naked.
She frowns at me, her eyes no more than slits. “What time is it?”
“Time to fuck, darling.” I roll my hips.
“It’s five in the morning.” She glances at the clock, then back at me. “I think I’m still drunk.”
I laugh and kiss her. I still feel it, too. The haze of liquor on my mind. Maybe that’s what’s driving this melancholy.
Oh, no. It was Violet humping me that woke me up. I smile against her lips, and she automatically mirrors me. I lick her lip, then suck it into my mouth. My teeth nibble her flesh, wanting a taste of their own. I bite harder, until the familiar metallic taste of blood drops on my tongue.
She kisses me harder. She presses into me, nipping my lips. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was trying to climb into my skin. The prick of pain of her breaking open my skin is refreshing.
We mix our blood and saliva and love together.
Maybe she doesn’t know about the last, but I do.
I feel it in the way she touches me and how she looks at me. She brushes my hair off my forehead and examines my face. She’s got a bead of blood on her lip that I lean down and lick away. Her eyes soften, and she cups my cheeks. Kisses me again, even after everything that once ran rampant between us.
Violet Reece is totally in love with me.
50
VIOLET
“How are you feeling?”
I glance up from my position on the floor. When I see Mia in my rented studio, I shoot to my feet. “Good.” I clear my throat. “Fine. Thank you.”
She chuckles and runs her hand down one of the bars. “Sorry to drop in unannounced.”
I try not to fidget as she appraises me. Hair in a braid over my shoulder, a loose cardigan over my gray leotard and black, stretchy shorts. I had a dance class an hour ago and have been working through the choreography for my audition.
Grey is sitting in the corner, his homework forgotten and his gaze on me.
“What’s up?” I grab my water bottle.
“Laramie told me you requested additional studio space after your lesson, so I figured I’d swing by and see how preparation is going.”
I shoot her a smile. “It’s going.”
She snorts. “Want to show me?”
“Is that biased?” I lift one shoulder and take a swig of the cool water. Surely she’s the one deciding who gets the part. But then again, she’s the one who pulled me out of retirement. That may have been the biggest tell of all.
“It may be.” She crosses to the speaker connected to my phone and hits play.
The familiar piece fills the room, an orchestral work from the original Sleeping Beauty. I want the lead role of Princess Aurora. Whether I can achieve her sweetness and grace is anyone’s guess. This particular part is a variation in the first act. She’s celebrating her sixteenth birthday, on the cusp of being cursed to a hundred-year sleep, and dancing alone before meeting four suitors.