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As we ascend, I move until our bodies are flush against each other. I stretch at the same time as he bends his neck. Our mouths are so close I can inhale the air he exhales, and with each breath, I feel steadier on my legs.
My head is a mess, my mind is bringing up memories from the night my mom and Leslie died, and the attack on the clubhouse only hours ago. Everything becomes interchangeable, making it seem like there was onlyoneattack.
When I close my eyes, my throat closes off, a lump forming as my mind conjures up images of Leslie, mom, and Sasha—all three looking straight at me from dull, unseeing eyes.
“Gray,” I gasp. “Please…” Not knowing what I’m asking for, what I need, I trail off.
“What is it, Zo?” he rasps, cupping my cheek.
Wordlessly, I move his hand to my throat, adding pressure until I can finally breathe normally again.
“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” I whisper.
Confusion, fear, and a million other emotions war inside me. Each pulling me in a different direction, making it hard to decipher what I want—what Ineed.
“Shh. I got you, Princess.”
He presses the emergency button, causing the elevator to come to an abrupt halt.
Gray moves his free hand to my ass, squeezing until I whimper against his lips.
Even though his touch isn’t sexual, my body flares to life. I moan and arch my back while pawing at his tattered shirt.
As soon as the moan slips free, I feel embarrassed. I shouldn’t be wanting this, especially not after seeing what the Reapers did to Sasha. Yet, I can’t stop myself from finding his denim-clad cock, squeezing it.
“I need you,” I moan.
What the fuck is the matter with me? This isn’t just inappropriate or wrong, it’s sick. So fucking sick.
“Please make me feel good,” I beg. “I need to… I can’t stand feeling like this.”
I’m scared to look into Gray’s eyes. Scared he’ll judge me, or maybe he won’t want anything to do with me now that he knows how depraved I am.
Gray exhales audibly, and in the elevator it sounds loud. “Look at me, Princess,” he demands.
When I don’t obey, he adds pressure around my throat until it becomes hard to breathe, leaving me no choice but to do as he wants.
As soon as my gaze meets his, he slides some loose strands of hair from my forehead. “Tell me what you need.”
Averting my gaze again, I stammer, “I-I need you to make me feel good. Make me forget.”
“Don’t you dare look away from me,” he growls, and my eyes snap up to his again. “Why are you embarrassed?”
There’s a genuine look of wonder in his dark eyes, which is a relief and a far cry from the disgust I was dreading I’d see.
“It’s… it’s wrong,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t be wanting what I want after… after…”
I don’t bother spelling it out, and luckily he doesn’t make me. Gray was right beside me as I told the detectives what I saw, what happened to Sasha, so he knows.
Leaning down, Gray licks the sweat pebbling on my forehead. It feels almost primal to have him do something like that. Using his tongue to clean me just as animals do in the wild.
“There’s nothing wrong with what you’re asking for,” he says calmly. “The opposite of death is life, and we create life through sex. Didn’t anyone teach you about the birds and the bees?”
I choke on a laugh, and within seconds, I’m coughing my lungs up. Sometimes I have a hard time believing the things that come out of his mouth, and this is definitely one of those times. Yet, as I mull it over in my head, it makes sense.
He flexes the hand still around my throat, cupping my tit with the other. I moan as he painfully slowly slides his hand down, snaking it under the fabric of the borrowed skirt I’m wearing.
Before Alana took off with the Cruz Cunts, she got some spare clothes out from the trunk of her—their—car. I hadn’t noticed that the clothes I was wearing had splatters of… well it doesn’t matter.
