His fingers are back, skimming over my inner arm, teasing the edges of my top. “Just a little peek.”

My breasts ache so badly, they’re hot, heavy, the silk covering them an irritant. With shaking hands, I reach up. The fabric tugs against my neck then comes free. It slithers over my skin like a caress.

He sucks in an audible breath as my breasts are exposed. I see myself through his eyes, sitting half-naked in this dim back room, my nipples puckered, my breasts quivering with each shallow breath I take. The vulnerability of it feels naughty, forbidden, and I nearly whimper.

A noise of pure satisfaction leaves him. Not bothering to lift his gaze from my breasts, he reaches out, runs the tips of his fingers over my nipple. I’m so sensitized now the touch sends a bolt of pure, searing lust straight through me. I flinch, clench my teeth to keep still.

He hums, strokes me back and forth as if he owns me. “So pretty.” He grazes me again. “You like that, sweetheart?”

Eyes closed, I bite my lower lip and nod.

I feel him move. The wet flat of his tongue drags over my nipple. My eyes fly open on a strangled cry. He grins up at me, his mouth hovering at my breast. It isn’t his usual cheeky grin but something more wicked. “Mmm. Delicious.”

He takes a step closer, and I swallow convulsively. Gray’s voice lowers. “I wonder where else you taste good. You want to show me, sweets?”

I’m practically panting now. My hair swings as I give my head a hard shake. He leans in, trailing the blunt tip of his finger up the curve of my breast. I nearly yelp when he gives the stiff peak a quick, crude pinch.

His smile is pure male smugness. “Lift up your skirt and show me where you’re wet.”

God. My thighs shake. I want to resist him. I want to do exactly what he says. As if against my will, my hands lower to the hem of my skirt.

Up, up, up. Every inch that slides over my thighs pushes my agitation higher. I can’t take it. I gather up the skirt until it’s around my wait. Cool air caresses my wet skin.

The silence is deafening. There is only the roar of my blood beating and the quiver of my sex, now fully on display. He just stands there, his eyes narrow, his expression almost fierce. I don’t miss the way his broad chest moves with agitated breaths.

I expect him to touch me. He doesn’t. He stares, his gaze fixated on my sex. And it drives all my awareness to my exposed state, to the fact that the small bud of my clit is throbbing.

He licks his bottom lip as if he’s imagining my taste. When he speaks, it’s a raw demand. “Spread wider.”

I do, wide enough that I feel the strain in the tendons between my thighs.

Still he doesn’t touch me, which drives up my need. I want him to so badly now that I bite the inside of my lip, arch my back just a bit to entice him with my breasts.

That bastard simply gives me an evil look. “You’re dying for it, aren’t you?”

“No,” I whisper. A lie.

He knows it. The corner of his mouth curls as his hand drifts to his belt.

Short of breath and aching, I watch him slowly unfasten his belt, the metal buckle clinking in the silence. He doesn’t unzip immediately but runs the heel of his hand down the significant bulge of his erection.

I have to clench my fists so I don’t reach out and cup him.

The hiss of his zipper lowering buzzes in my ears. I only have eyes for his hand, reaching in to pull out that beautiful cock. Long, hard, thick, a bead of precome glistening on the wide head. I know how smooth his skin is. I know his taste. How well he’ll fill me.

“Do you want this?” he asks.

“I’m a good girl,” I whisper.

He wraps his fingers around his wide base, his eyes on me. “Let me put it in you. See how it feels.”

“I don’t know…” I trail off, biting my lip. Pretending that I won’t scream if he doesn’t fuck me soon.

He steps between my legs, and gives his cock a stroke as if he needs that small relief. The sight has my sex clenching. Licking his lower lip, he guides himself to my opening.

“Just the tip, sweetheart.” He nudges against me, slipping along my wetness, as I whimper. His voice goes dark. “Just for a second.”

That thick crown pushes inside. I’m so worked up with lust, I begin to moan and wiggle, ripples of heat running along my body. He shudders, his cock sinking further, stretching me, invading as he groans out, “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna need more.”

Like that, I’m coming around his hard cock as he glides in, deeper, deeper, until fully seated. The orgasm quakes through me so hard and fast that I arch back, my inner walls squeezing him tight.

“Jesus,” he says, holding on to my neck. “Jesus.”

Somehow, I manage to lift my head, catch his eye. He’s no longer Not Gray, but my Gray, looking at me as if I’m beautiful, as if I’m his world. I don’t want to pretend anymore. Maybe he sees the knowledge in my eyes, because he gives me a look that’s part pain, part helpless want. Deep inside me, his cock pulses.

I draw in a breath, touch his cheek. “Gray.”

That’s all he needs. With an impatient sound, he hauls me close, bringing us chest-to-chest, mouth-to-mouth. He kisses me, no longer detached but pure Gray, sweet and seductive and just a little dirty.

“Ivy. Honey.” He fucks like he’s savoring me, holding my upper body against his so that the only movement is his cock pushing in and out. A steady pounding, so good and raw that I shiver.