He lifted a hand and palmed my ass hard, the sound loud in this tiled room. “Shoulders, Prickles.”
I thought for sure I was going to slip and fall, but he was so strong that I hardly had to do anything to get my legs over his shoulders, my back braced against the tiled wall. Still worried about falling, I grabbed onto the shower faucet above my head and prayed it was strong enough to hold.
It was a position I’d never been in, with my entire weight resting on his shoulders, but Grayson acted like it wasn’t even straining him at all. “Fuck,” he breathed, when my pussy was in his face. He leaned back to catch my eye. “Been daydreaming about this for weeks.”
Me and him both.
His tongue tasted me in a slow sweep, starting from the bottom of my slit and sliding all the way to the top. This time his groan was louder, and from this angle, the size of his cock tenting his wet boxers had me feeling all kinds of things. Like, would I survive this, and would I care if I didn’t?
“Gray,” I moaned, rocking my cunt against his face, one of my hands threading into the wet, silky strands of his hair. “I’m going to need you to use that talented tongue with a little more force.”
As I said that, the sound of a phone ringing cut through the haze of arousal in my head. He let out a curse, fingers biting into my ass as he pushed me a little higher. “You’re going to have to be quick, baby,” he warned me. “If someone is calling at this time, it’s an emergency, and I need to get it.”
His tongue plunged into me before he’d even finished that sentence, and I was crying out and rocking the best I could while sandwiched between him and the wall. “Quick won’t be a problem,” I cried out.
Not a problem at all.
thirty-seven
BILLIE
Grayson left me in the shower with strict instructions to take my time. I got the impression he was only partially concerned about my hygiene and relaxation, and partly worried about what crisis needed his attention in the middle of the fucking night.
Admittedly, I was curious. But not curious enough to rush my shower. I did exactly as I was told, cleaning every inch of my body, shaving my legs, shampooing and conditioning my hair… Thank fuck Gray understood the necessity for quality hair products and didn’t have some of that horrific 2-in-1 shit that some boys used.
The best part, though, was when I got out of the shower and hunted unashamedly through Grayson’s vanity. Somehow, he just struck me as the kind of guy who always had spares of everything, and to my utter delight, I quickly located a toothbrush still in its packet.
Clean teeth. Pure bliss.
My clothes were sopping wet and left in a pile at the base of the shower, so I just wrapped the towel around my body to leave the bathroom. Grayson had taken the time to leave some clothes neatly folded on the end of the bed, which I had to assume were there for me.
It was one of his Bellerose tour t-shirts and a pair of boxers—way too big for me but better than being naked if he was in the middle of a crisis.
Leaving the bedroom, the sound of Gray opening the front door made me pause. Voices travelled to me, and I frowned with confusion. Was that Angelo?
Hurrying downstairs, I gasped to see Angelo striding through the front door carrying a badly beaten woman whose long red hair trailed over his arm like blood.
“Vee?” I exclaimed, pressing a hand to my mouth to hold back my scream. “What happened?”
“That’s what I was asking,” Gray rumbled, closing the door, locking several deadbolts, and activating his alarm once more. “Take her to the couch.”
Angelo said nothing, just strode through Grayson’s house with the confidence of a man who knew where he was going. He lowered Vee carefully to the couch, and she whimpered in pain, tears rolling from her swollen, purple eyes.
“Shhh,” Angelo hushed, ever so gently drying his wife’s tears with a fabric handkerchief. “Sleep,amore mio.You’re safe now.” He sat on the carpet beside the couch, his concern etched all over his face as he whispered to Vee in Italian, soothing her back to sleep.
I shook my head in disbelief, looking up at Grayson. “She needs to go to the hospital.” I said it quietly, not wanting to wake her, but Angelo’s head snapped around in response.
“No,” he snapped. “No hospitals. Not here or in Siena or anywhere in between.”
I swallowed hard, understanding exactly what he meant: This was done by mafia, and if she showed up at a hospital, they’d likely finish the job.
“I know someone,” Gray rumbled. “She can help. Discretely.”
Angelo jerked a nod, rising to his feet. “Good. Call her.” He stalked out of the living room and headed to the kitchen, going straight to Grayson’s liquor cabinet. He’d definitely been here before.
Grayson didn’t even bat an eyelid at Angelo making himself at home, just scrolled through his phone to find the contact he was looking for.
“Angel,what happened?” I asked, panicked and desperate to help, somehow. I’d followed him into the kitchen where we could speak louder than whispers, but my concern was so thick I was shaking.
