Page 118 of Peaches & Pistols

Greyson nods, encouraging for me to continue.

“I want 25 percent to be split in half for each of our daughter’s futures, should they choose to pursue college or a trade, or wish to buy a home. No one looked out for me and Charlie’s futures, and it’s a way I can express how much I love them and any version of themselves they become.”

“That’s incredible, Mia. We can meet with James together to include what I’ve saved for Harper and split that in half as well. Any head start we can give them, we should,” Greyson says, kissing my knuckles.

“I’d like to donate 25 percent to organizations that fight against domestic violence and work to help people who escape and get back on their feet.” I choke back the emotions overtaking me in crashing waves.

“Had I not landed in Swiftwater, I would’ve needed to find a women’s shelter for me and Everly to stay at until I found a job and could afford rent somewhere.”

How differently my life could look had I gotten off that bus one stop sooner, or farther.

“And the last 25 percent?” Greyson’s voice thick with emotion.

“The last 25 percent I want to go to Hope at Lucky Spurs Ranch, and Lucky Spurs Ranch itself. Delilah’s changing lives, helping so many people. Imagine what she could do with a strong financial backing? Reid could expand his rehabilitation program, placing horses with loving owners, and for Delilah to rotate in her programs.” This, I’ve never been surer of.

“I’m so proud of you, Mia, honey. I’ll get with James right away so y’all can start discussions,” Greyson offers.

“Thank you.” I lean to steal a kiss. “You need to get back to work, Mister.”

Greyson’s eyes light with playfulness at being told what to do. To prove his free will, he stretches his arms across the back of the couch, kicking his feet out, crossed at the ankles.

“How about instead, we pull the girls from school for the rest of the day and play hooky. We could go eat shitty pizza at the movie theater and watch some animated crap. Or we could hit up The Flying Pig for lunch and take the girls to the bookstore. Hell, we could pack up and take a short day trip to the hot springs,” Greyson muses.

Who is this, and what did he do with the unfeeling, avoidant man who hired me all those months ago?

“I have a better idea.”

Greyson turns toward me, always open to my ideas.

“The kids stay in school, and we spend the next several hours without clothes on.”

I’m still not confident asking for what I want. I can barely suggest an alternate idea for dinner let alone what I want sexually.

Greyson’s eyes darken to the point that mesmerizes me. He stands from the couch and bends to cage me between his knees and arms, dipping his head to run his stubble up my neck and speak filth into my ear.

“Tell me what you want, Mia. You can do better than that.”

Shivers course through me from the heat of his breath and my panties dampen from his dominance.

“I want to spend the day m-making love?” I ask, more than state.

“Try again, Mia.” Greyson nips my earlobe and moves down to kiss my pulse point.

“I want to have sex with you all day.”

He’s seriously turning me on, and he’s barely touched me.

“One more chance before I tell you exactly what’s going to happen,” he growls, one hand uncaging me to massage my breast over my shirt.

I’m torn because I want to please him and use the words I know he’s waiting to hear. But I’m also desperate for him to take complete control of my body.

“I want you to fuck me so many times we can’t walk, and we have to call Cecelia to get the kids from school so we can spend the rest of the day fucking.” My cheeks flame from the dirty talk coming from my mouth.

“Good girl, Mia. I knew you could do it, I knew you had it in you. That sex-kitten you keep locked away wants to come out and play. I love when you feel comfortable enough to tell me what you want.”

Warm syrup coats my consciousnesses when he calls me his good girl. Growing up with no attention, let alone validation or encouragement, and then marrying someone who only insulted and belittled me, has left me a slut for Greyson’s praise.

“I can make all that happen, honey.”