Page 86 of Peaches & Pistols

“To make me beg and scream until I’m delirious with pleasure.”

“Which you will, because you want to be my good girl, don’t you, Mia?”

Fuuuuuck. This man could melt snow off a mountain with that mouth.

“So badly.” My admission comes out as a shaky breath as his hands explore higher beneath his stolen T-shirt

“Did I promise anything else?” Greyson pulls my hips into him, grinding me onto his raging erection.

“Umm…uh…” I can’t think when he’s touching me like this.

“I promised there’d be nothing preventing me from bringing you pleasure, nothing in the way of proving my love for you with my body. I promised to take care of you because you’re fucking mine. You tellin’ me you’re giving yourself to me fully? Because I’ll take and take until there’s nothing left.”

“Yes. I want you, Greyson. I need you, please,” I pant.

“I told you nothing would stop us.” He fishes his phone from his pocket and dials out on speaker.

“Greyson, love! How are you, my boy?” Cecelia coos across the line.

“Can you pick the girls up from school, keep them overnight, and bring them back before school tomorrow? Please, and thank you.”

“Absolutely, oh, what a treat—” Greyson ends the call without letting her finish.

There’s a clatter, but I have no idea where the phone lands, because all I can focus on is the way he hoists me up like I weigh nothing, wrapping my legs around his waist. I yelp, afraid he might drop me, and then yelp louder when his hand cracks down on my ass cheek.

“What th⁠—”

“Honey, you best learn quick. I take care of what’s mine. In what world do you think I’d ever let you fall?”

“I—”

Another slap lands on my exposed ass.

“The right answer is, no, I’d never let you fall. And why is that?” he asks, the question mocking, but his tone neutral.

“Because I’m yours, and you take care of what’s yours,” I parrot, leaning back to see his stormy expression.

“That’s right, honey.” He soothes the sting of his slaps by kneading the tender flesh.

He walks us down the hall to our bedroom and leaves the door wide open, something we never do, because he can.

We have complete privacy until tomorrow morning, plenty of time to christen the apartment by sunrise.

Greyson relaxes his biceps, slowly lowering my feet to the floor, every inch of my body pressed against his on the way down.

“Turn around and put your hands on the bed.”

I obey without a thought.

“Good girl.” A full-body shiver quakes through me. “You know what I think, Mia?”

“What?”

“I think you need me to take control.” His hand rubs down my spine, stopping at the cleft of my ass.

“I think you’re desperate for your mind to be empty from life’s stress and to be consumed by pleasure.”

He lifts my T-shirt inch by inch, his respiration rapid and sharp in the silent space.