Page 41 of Deserter

“You keep seeing me as the good guy, princess.” He rolled his hips forward, and I cried out, my inner muscles clamping down around him. “I’m not your protector and I’m sure as fuck not your friend.”

His teeth came down on my shoulder. “Celia…” Hearing my name on his lips pushed me over the edge with a clenched jaw and stifled moan.

“Open your eyes, Celia. I’m fuckin’ you, do you hear me? It’s not the other way around.” I obeyed and met his dark stare in the mirror. His eyes were filled with victory; taking pleasure in the knowledge that he’d won.

I’d willingly signed over ownership of my body just to hear him growl my name.

“I hate you,” I whispered. “I hate what you’ve turned me into.”

The muscle in his jaw flexed. “You waltzed into my bar and disrespected me, little girl.” His nostrils flared as he forced himself deeper. “You were a debt; do you hear me? Your daddy fucked up, and I took you as payment. This don’t mean shit.”

I tried and failed to keep from coming again as he tore me apart physically and emotionally, but if anything, the orgasms became even more intense.

His hand came up to rest against the base of my throat and I scratched and clawed at him as tears blurred my vision.

“That’s it, princess. Fuckin’ fight me.” His hands dropped to the back of my thighs and my knees moved up to either side of my breasts as he lifted me. “You’re going to watch me fuck you either way.”

I wanted to defy him and keep my eyes on the floor, but curiosity took what little sanity I still possessed and ripped it from my hands.

The angle left nothing to the imagination, and I watched, mesmerized, as he buried himself in me. My body dripped around him and he let out a low growl before his thrusts turned shallow. With a roar, he squeezed my thighs and my teeth sank into my lower lip to keep from screaming as I followed him over the edge.

He stumbled back against the side of the stall and I slid down his body onto unsteady legs. “Grey…” I paused to catch my breath. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes remained closed and his chest rose and fell rapidly. “Get the fuck out of here, Celia, and don’t come back. This ain’t a place for a girl like you.”

“Please,” I protested. “Just hear me out.”

His eyes flew open. “Did I fuckin’ stutter? I said to get the fuck out. There’s not a goddamn thing for you here. You were a debt… a fucking debt, Celia!”

Coming here had been such a mistake.

I’d been a fool to think that he might’ve cared for me.

I scrambled to get my clothes on, tucking the heels under my arm as I fled the bathroom barefoot. Molly met me in the hall and this time, no one tried to keep us from leaving.

It wasn’t until we made it to her car that the evidence of mine and Grey’s encounter ran down my legs and I realized something else.

He hadn’t worn a condom.

Chapter Ten

Grey: 1989

I’d been trying to forget Celia Cross for two weeks.

One encounter with me should’ve been enough to keep her safely tucked away in the suburbs, but then she’d shown up in my bar. With her fuck-me heels and blazing green eyes, all my plans went to shit. Even her old man had taken the hint and quit his habit, cold turkey.

No one had the balls to defy me, yet Celia had done it more than once and with a goddamn smile on her face. She was a challenge that I wanted to fuck into submission. I’d been stupid enough to think that I’d get her out of my system; if anything, her reappearance had only made me crave her more.

She was so fucking perfect.

It didn’t matter that I was surrounded by willing women, Celia had left me with a constant hard-on. I’d jacked into the panties I stole from her more times than I could count, but it was nothing like being inside of her tight cunt.

God help any fucker who had similar thoughts.

As a prospect, Remington had shown promise, but that didn’t matter once he put his goddamn hands on her. I told myself that she’d decided her fate when she disrespected me in front of my men.

The friend she’d shown up with had stood near the bar, nervously wringing her hands and stealing glances toward the bathroom. When I approached her, she’d stumbled over a bar stool backing away from me.

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