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It reminds me of our time in the cabin. Specifically, when he tried to play head-games and spew what he undoubtedly thought were romantic words.
“You’re mine because you were made for me.”
But even as I roll my eyes at the memory, I can’t deny the words stir something deep inside my chest. Something I have no business feeling, and definitely won’t be acknowledging. Not to myself. Not to anyone.
Cocking my head, I study Grayson intently. The vulnerability I saw in the cabin is reflected in his dark pools, which, frankly, confuse the fuck out of me.
I sigh, deciding to just be honest. “Because you don’t actually care about me. I’m just something different for you to play with. A new toy, if you will.”
He growls menacingly. “Don’t ever let me hear you talk about yourself like that again.”
Waving him off, I ignore his outburst. “You enjoy tormenting me. I’m willing to bet your obsession is just because there’s an expiration date.”
Grayson chuckles again. “The only way for us to ‘expire’,” he makes air quotes with his fingers as he says the word. “Is if one of us dies. I’ve claimed you, Princess. I’ve told you that you’re mine. That’s really all there is to it.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. The more he says those words, the more I’m beginning to think he actually believes them. And that doesn’t bode well for me.
Shaking my head, I try to reason with him. “What’s your glorious plan for the future? You want to get married, and when the priest asks me if I’ll take you, interrupt him and say there’s no point in asking me since you’ve decided we’re together?”
Quirking a dark brow, he asks, “You want to get married, Princess? You want to become Zoe Black?”
His words cause a shiver to run down my spine, threatening to derail my thoughts. That was so not the point of what I said. Okay, now I can see how that’s what he took from it. But that just means it was a shitty example.
“That’s not what I meant,” I say calmly. “My point is that I’m leaving for Harvard in the fall. Whatever I’m doing here will end then.”
Grayson gently cups my cheeks as he moves so close our breath mingles. “What exactly do you think you’re doing here?” he asks curiously.
“I honestly don’t know,” I admit.
But that’s a lie, isn’t it? I know I’m their hostage. Rocco told me as much the day we met Adam at the cemetery.
Grayson licks across the seam of my lips, biting down on the plump flesh until I whimper. “You’re not going anywhere, Princess. Your dad gave you to us, to the Cruz Kings. And I claimed you.”
I rear back at his words, almost falling off the table. The only thing stopping my descent is Grayson’s hands on my hips.
“I’m not a fucking object, Grayson. I’m eighteen years old. Since I’m not a minor, my dad can’t make me do anything,” I spit while clenching my hands into fists as anger courses through me.
Since I already knew this, I don’t know why I’m acting like it’s new information. Maybe it’s because I never took the time to really process it, let alone asked questions.
Bastard Can Fuck Drenched Pussy Loudly.
Bastard Can Fuck Drenched Pussy Loudly.
“Why are you acting like this is new information?” Grayson asks, cocking his head to the side. “You already know he stole a lot of money. And Rocco told you about the trade for your inheritance.” Grayson says.
There’s no compassion in his voice, only mild curiosity. Like I’m acting in an unexpected way he finds interesting.
The room begins to spin and breathing becomes difficult.
“But I’m… I-I’m… what?”
I’m well aware that my words make little sense, and, just for the record, his don’t either. He never took the time to explain it all to me, so how can he expect me to fully understand it?
Grayson is either unbothered or oblivious to the fact my world is falling apart at his hand. Again, again, a-fucking-gain. Frankly, I don’t care which it is, but my anger surges as he moves his hand to the apex of my thighs and cups my pussy through my shorts.
“N-no,” I cry. “Don’t touch me.”
His tone is filled with amusement as he asks, “Did you just tell me no, Princess?”
