I needed all of him.
I arched into it, into him filling me up in a way I’d craved.
I was going to come. Come while a bunch of strangers watched.
“Open your eyes,” Grim commanded. “Look at me when I let you come.”
My eyes flew open.
“Good girl,” Grim said, voice oddly warm through his growl. A new kind of pleasure twisted and dripped hot into my bones. The kind that came only from Grim’s praise. That throbbing, hot wire in my gut snapped. My head fell to his chest as fireworks exploded through my blood.
The last thing I saw before I came was the hungry, crooked grin curving Grim’s lips.
Grim’s hand found the back of my neck and held meagainst his chest, thumb rubbing circles in my skin. I steadied my breathing, focusing on the concentric motion.
Grim took forever removing his fingers from inside me.Tooslow. Like he wanted me to feel his absence. Somehowthatwas more intimate than what had just happened seconds ago.
He tilted my chin up with sticky fingers, forcing me to meet his gaze, and I found myself standing up on tiptoes.
Our lips nearly touched when he said, “She’s had enough for tonight.”
I was still so lost in him. Stuck in the daze of Grim’s praise, of him touching me in the way I’d craved for years. So I didn’t notice the change, didn’t see the mask fall back into place. Didn’t register what he’d said until someone grabbed my elbow.
Security.
Grim stepped off and returned to the couch, not bothering to look back. The security guard gripped my elbow, trying to push me toward the stairs. I wrestled with every emotion.Shame, humiliation—desire.
I yanked my arm free as Grim reached the couch, and yelled, “This was the last time.”
He paused, looking over his shoulder so I could see his smirk.
“I’m not fucking joking,” I said.
He dragged the two fingers he’d just used to fuck me across his bottom lip, as if thinking hard. “Whatever you say, Rich Girl.”
TWENTY-TWO
GEMMA
I didn’t bother sneaking back in through the window. A small sliver of satisfaction hit me at the surprise on the Horsemen’s faces when I walked through my front door. Before they could say anything, I went to my bedroom and slammed the door.
I fell to my bed, not bothering to pull back the sheets, replaying the night over and over again in my head, wishing I had some kind of drug to numb my inner thoughts.
Why did I let him touch me?
Why can’t I stop thinking about the way his fingers felt?
The hungry, possessive look in his eyes when I came?
Like he’d been waiting for it.
My thighs ached with it. Even though I’d come, I wasn’t satisfied. If anything, the orgasm released something I’d caged deep inside me. I was more out of control. More desperate. I scissored my legs and rolled onto my stomach, groaning as I slammed my head into the silk pillowcase.
I didn’t like the goose bumps peppering my arms, the way my gut still twisted in knots.
Good girl.
Pathetic.
