“You don’t want this, Grayson…I don’t want to force you into this.”
She looked away, but I drew her face into a soft kiss. “Tell me if it’s too much. If you want me to stop.” I peeled one thin satin strap past her shoulder, kissing the soft skin as I went. “You said you had a vision for your wedding night.”
She watched me, eyes wide, plump lips parted. I could do sweet and tender for her. I had been getting other girls off my entire life without any regard to my own feelings. Why should my wedding be any different?
Six
GRAY
“I’ll make you feel so good, Lottie,” I promised. “Your wedding night will be perfect. Tell me what you like. I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you everything.” I pressed her body into the mattress, lightly grazing her ear with my teeth until she shuddered.
“I don’t know what I like,” she admitted. “I…I haven’t had sex very much.”
I trailed my hands up the inside of her thigh.
“This?”
She nodded and sighed a breathy moan.
I grazed a thumb over her pussy but didn’t part the lips.
“This?”
A hot, needy moan.
I pressed my thumb, barely parting. Wet.
You’re already so fucking wet.
Snitch slammed into me as Lottie’s hand slid up my thigh. The two images collided in a dark dance. Snitch was always so fucking wet. So fucking needy. Lottie reached for my cock, and Snitch vanished like smoke.
I could feel myself going soft.
Fuck.
I grabbed Lottie’s wrists, holding them together with one hand and slamming her flat against the bed in one move. Her eyes popped at the new position, and I plunged a finger inside Lottie, trying to banish Snitch.
I couldn’t bring her into this.
Not on our wedding night.
Lottie’s mouth fell open on a silent gasp, back arching. Her soft hands grasped mine, so unlike Snitch, nails manicured down to the pad. Not the furious, heated scratching I loved.
Fuck. There Snitch was again, crawling up and sliding inside my thoughts.
Lottie reached for my cock again, and I pulled away before I could stop myself. An awkward second passed, my finger still inside her.
“Will it help if I pretend to be her?” she breathed against my lips. “Story.”
My dick twitched at her name. I rubbed my thumb along Lottie’s clit, hoping she didn’t notice.
“It will,” she gasped. “I can feel it.”
“Stop.” I tried to be firm, but my words came out strangled. I worked the finger inside Lottie, trying to turn back time with her moans and gasps, before corruption had sunk inky into our wedding night.
“Does she like one finger or two?” she asked.
I didn’t respond, but she grasped my hard cock. This time I didn’t pull away.
“How many, Gray?” She tightened her grip on me, pumping up and down.
“Lottie—”
“No!” Lottie cut me off, working me harder in a rhythm until I couldn’t think past the pleasure. “How many?”
“She’ll take as many as I give her,” I grated.
Lottie looked me in the eye. “So give her what she deserves.”
We were tumbling down this hill now, too fast to stop it.
“How many does she deserve?” She all but cried her words when I tweaked her clit. I buried my head in her shoulder as she worked me, letting myself get lost in the dark spell Lottie was casting. As Lottie pumped me, I returned the favor, her moans getting discolored, distorted, in Snitch.
“One or two?” Lottie’s soft question was at my ear, urging me to fuck her, fuck my wife while I pretended she was another woman.
“Three,” I growled, sliding two more inside. A sharp gasp slipped from Lottie’s lips. Concern I’d hurt her shattered the moment. I lifted my head, finding her eyes.
“Lottie?”
She grasped my cheeks. “Don’t call me that name.”
I got Lottie off, making her scream, cry, say words I never knew could come out of her mouth. As I came into my wife’s hand and on her thigh, I groaned Snitch’s name into my wife’s shoulder.
Our breaths were heavy. I pushed myself up on my elbows. I’d come in Lottie’s hands, but she was covered on her inner thighs and pussy.
I’d promised her a family, but I was fucking terrified of that sticky substance sinking inside her… Just as quickly as the dark, dirty primal heat that had corrupted us and had made what we’d done okay came, it dissipated. All that was left in its wake was an icy hollowness.
“Lottie—”
“Don’t,” she cut me off, pushing me off at the same time. Lottie slid to the edge of the bed, giving me her back. I could count her breaths by the way the elegant notches in her spine moved.
Fuck.
Fuck fuck. Fuck. That was so not how we should have spent our wedding night. Instead of taking Snitch out of the equation, we’d brought her into our bed.
And I couldn’t stop the dark, fucked-up thought in my head telling her to go clean up. She was my wife, and I’d promised to be loyal to her, so why did I hate the idea of her getting pregnant?
It was unlikely, right? She’d have to be, like, crazy fucking fertile.
I reached for her. “Lottie.”
She flinched at my touch. “I just…I need a minute.”
My hand was still outstretched when there came a knocking on the door. Lottie snapped her head at the sound, then at me, eyes wide. She scrambled across the bed, lunging on top of me.
My face must have betrayed my confusion.
“Can you just act like you aren’t totally repulsed by me for five seconds?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at what sounded like someone coming up the stairs.
“Lottie, I’m not…do you think that?”
“We can use her,” she whispered. “If it will help, we can use her in the bedroom.”
Use Snitch, as if she were nothing more than a toy?
It had been done in the past, when girls were seen as nothing.
I would never fucking do it.
But I couldn’t respond, because whoever had come to get the sheets had arrived. I lifted my head off the pillow to see who had come, and all the air left my body.
Story.
“I’m here for the sheets.”
Seven
STORY
Lottie naked. Gray naked. Lottie on top of Gray, flushed from exertion. Her lips flushed. The sheets stained red.
“Story,” Grayson breathed as if he’d been punched.
I swallowed. “They are requesting the sheets, Miss—Mrs. Crowne.”
Slowly they got off the bed. Grayson stared holes into me. Chiseled arms. Back exerted. Muscles slick. Lips plump from kissing. Hair wild.
Bed sheets messy.
I gathered the sheets in my arms, silky and soft, and red. Red and bloody. Once again I was reminded of the beginning, when I’d come here with a mountain of my only belongings. Now I was back with a mountain of their wedding sheets.
I swallowed. “Thank you.”
I turned from Charlotte, catching Grayson’s eyes. Brittle, bruised. I said I would learn to hate Grayson Crowne, but I wasn’t sure I knew how.