“Fucking Christ,” he mutters on a dark groan. “You’re so fucking wet, London. Soaking.” As if he can’t restrain his own response, he grinds the hard length of himself against me, his finger sinking inside me.
I gasp at the intrusion, my muscles clenched tight, my eyes sealed shut, as the needy ache flares and deepens. He’s there to answer it, pushing in a second finger. His other hand finds placement around my throat, squeezing just hard enough to restrict my movement, to hold me against him.
“God damn, you’re testing my control, London.” He unleashes a low growl as his fingers fuck me slowly, dipping inside with marked restraint to feel me, pushing in deeper, slower, teasing me apart.
Fire builds in my muscles, and I swallow against the press of his hand collaring my throat, nearly shattering when his thumb grazes over my clit. Each excruciatingly slow pass and pungle nearly breaks me.
“You lost any rational control over your mind the moment you did this—” My words clip short as he forcefully tows my leg over, spreading my thighs wider, his knees preventing me from moving.
His body caged around mine, the edge of the desk digging into my stomach, Grayson thrusts his fingers deeper, ruthlessly drawing a throaty moan from me.
He makes a smug sound of satisfaction. “We did this to each other,” he says roughly into my hair before his fingers are gone. I gasp in a ragged breath, my body trembling. “Time for my pretty liar to confess her sins.”
Without warning, he grasps my hips and rolls me onto my back, forcing me to face him.
Our eyes meet—and there’s no way to deny this is happening between us.
I’m instantly lost in those beautiful pale blues that could promise acceptance and shelter, protection from my fears and darkest secrets.
Yet I know those eyes lie, that his acceptance also comes with the deepest cruelty.
“This can’t happen, Grayson. Just don’t…please.” My plea slips from trembling lips. I blink hard, trying to sever the connection between us, to stop his knowing eyes from staring right down to the sick truth of me.
He clasps the slope of my neck, tilting my face up to him, his lips hovering too close to mine. “I can talk you through it, doctor. If that’s what you need, I’ll be your bad guy and feed your body every salacious desire you crave without you having to ask, but—” he pauses, those intense eyes clashing with mine “—you have to give mesomething in return.”
Fear prickles my senses, but before I can refuse, his lips crash against mine, swallowing my cry of protest. His mouth moves against mine in demand, his lips soft yet strong, as his tongue invades the hollow of my mouth with claiming swipes.
The taste of him is all raw need and burning hunger, smoky flint and wild ocean. It’s seductive and intoxicating, and I’m drowning in him.
When he breaks away, I’m left shaken, drugged, watching the blue of his eyes blaze with hunger as he licks the taste of me on his lips, waiting. I don’t give him any response, and he takes my silence as answer enough.
A devilish smile twists his mouth, his words a rasp against my lips as he whispers, “That’s my good doctor.” Then his hand clamps tight around my throat before he forces me back against the desk.
The chain drags across the center of my body, and a strangled cry escapes my swollen lips as I latch onto his wrist, the metal cuff too solid beneath my weak attempt to fight free. But soon my struggle is drained when his fingers expertly work the buttons of my blouse open, his heated gaze devouring me as he exposes my sheer lace bra.
“Fucking beautiful,” he mutters, dragging his hand over my breast, pinching my nipple between his fingers hard enough to earn a shaky moan from me. His hand grips my thigh, and he roughly drags my ass to the edge of the desk.
Something wild and depraved flashes in his gaze before he releases my throat and drops to his knees. There’s one hesitant moment where I think of escape, then the feel of his mouth surrounding me steals the last of my fight.
Fingers gripped to my thighs with bruising intent, he licks me up the seam of my pussy, dropping an appreciative groan that rocks through me with a violent shiver.
“Oh, god…” It escapes without permission, and I bite into my bottom lip to hold back any further sounds.
Grayson grazes his teeth over my clit, and my back arches off the desk. “Look at me, London,” he demands, the rumble of his coarse words a torturous friction against my sensitive skin.
Pulse slamming my veins, I open my eyes, meeting his intense stare through the haze of lust. Seeing him between my parted thighs is so fucking erotic, I sense myself grow wet, and his eyes darken.
“Tell me how turned on you got watching my videos,” he demands.
Inhaling a ragged breath, I shake my head. “No.”
A devious smile tips his mouth before he fucks me with his tongue, drawing another desperate sound. He holds my gaze, diabolical, as he says, “I want to hear you admit it.”
“I wasn’t turned on,” I snap.
“Liar,” he growls, licking harder, forcing my hips to lift upward. “You couldn’t tear your eyes away. Admit how aroused you were seeing Giselle tortured. Bound. Confessing her sins.”
My breath quickens as forbidden imagery floods my mind. And when he thrusts two fingers inside me, seeking out the needy ache deep within, I almost surrender. He’s never called his victims by name before. It feels too intimate, stirring a deviant desire within me.
