“How long do we have?” he asks, already beginning to peel my clothes from my body. I have definitely spent more time naked around this man than clothed.
“Long enough,” I moan. He steps back, stripping off his own clothes. His eyes rove down my body and pause.
“What the fuck is that?” I’m taken aback by his tone. Is he seriously mad, again? What on earth?
“What’s what?” I ask, genuinely baffled.
“That,” he grates, his teeth clenched. His jaw is as hard as granite. His hand is pointing towards my waist. I look down, noticing the bruising on my hip. Ah. Now I get it. He’s just noticed it.
“It’s nothing, Gray, just a bruise.”
“You didn’t have it yesterday,” his eyes connect with mine. “Please don’t tell me I did that.”
“Well, technically you didn’t do it. The bath did.” Yeah, no, he doesn’t like that response. Humour probably wasn’t the best way to go. Not with how on edge he was before he even saw the bruise.
“Gray, I am absolutely fine. I don’t even feel it.” He’s standing directly in front of me again, his hand brushes over the bruise, his face pained. He hates it, after just a short amount of time, I can already read this man so well, and right now, he hates what he’s done.
“Babe, look at me,” I grasp the side of his face, lifting his eyes to mine. “I loved every moment of our time in that bath. I love you being rough with me. I love knowing that it’s me that’s made you lose control, turned you on so much that you’re feral for me.”
“Sweetheart, there’s rough, there’s making you take my cock, there’s fucking you deep, and then there’s this. You have a massive fucking bruise because of something I did. Why didn’t you say something? I hurt you,” the last three words are a pained whisper and my heart breaks for him.
“I didn’t say anything because it didn’t bother me, and because I didn’t want you to stop. I’m not just saying this, but I do also bruise really easily.” I can see I’m not convincing him here. He’s made up his mind, and there is no way I’m letting him take a step back from our fucking. I don’t want him soft and gentle with me, afraid I’ll break. I want him exactly as he is. I try a different approach.
“Think of it this way. If I took charge, pushed you up against the wall right now and fucked you, but you caught your shoulder slightly and it bruised, would you care? Would you want me to blame myself? Would you feel like I did it to you? Or would you think, 'fuck me that was hot, let’s do it again?'” His eyes meet mine, his jaw working. I can see him running this through his brain, trying to sort his thoughts, his emotions.
“Don’t hold back, not with me, Gray. That’s not who we are. We’re raw, passionate, intense, that’s us, that’s what works for us. Don’t take that away,” I whisper.
He takes my jaw in his big hand. “You tell me. If I hurt you, if something gets too much, you tell me. That’s a deal breaker, Paige. I can’t hurt you; I won’t survive hurting you, baby.”
“I promise. Now fuck me, Gray. Fuck me like you hate me.” He scoops me into his arms and throws me on to the bed.
“Oh, baby girl,” he grins down at me. “You shouldn’t have said that.”
I can still feel Gray inside me hours later, it’s as if he’s only just left my body. I feel the pinch of him every time I move. I only have myself to blame though, not that I’m complaining. But asking that man to fuck me like he hates me, well, he certainly delivered. How I didn’t become a part of that mattress, with the way he nailed me to it, I don’t know.
“How does it feel knowing you’re only going to sleep with one man again for the rest of your life?” Amelia asks Chloe. I’m sprawled out on the smaller of the couches, a mocktail in my hand. We’re not drinking tonight, nothing will interfere with tomorrow. Chloe’s at the opposite end of the couch to me, our legs tangled together. Amelia, Samantha and Maisie are all on the larger one opposite ours.
“Great. Perfect. I can’t wait to marry David; to become Mrs Garrett.” Chloe has the sappiest look on her face I think I’ve ever seen. Sam mimes vomiting; her head hanging off the couch, shoulders pretending to heave. I can’t help but laugh. Chloe just tells us all to fuck off; nothing is removing her from cloud nine. We’ve chatted this evening about anything and everything. It reminds me of when we were younger, the nights we’d spend camped out in one of our rooms. Whispering away together, planning our lives, our weddings, our happy ever afters. And here we are, the night before Chloe’s, it almost doesn’t feel real.
My phone vibrates. I dig it out of the pocket of my hoodie, knowing who it is without even having to look.
You having fun?
Yes. You?
What do you think?
I think you miss me.
You would be correct.
What time do you want me to come and get you? No rush.
I can walk back when we’re finished. I doubt I’ll be much longer.
No.
I’ll come and get you. Message me.
