Page 176 of Piggy

He enters me. Deep and slow. Stretching me in that way that makes my eyes flutter shut and mouth part.

My breath stutters.

He moves inside me like I belong to him. Like there’s nothing else in the world but my walls clenching around him and his mouth on my neck.

His voice growls near my ear, erotic and powerful. “I’ll eat your pussy anytime. I’ll fuck you till you cry. Hurt you until youbegto cum.” His teeth scrape my throat. “You want to own me? You do. Always will.”

“You’re mine,” I moan.

“Good, Piggy. Because you’ll never stop being mine, either.”

And he takes me. Thrusts into me with the perfect blend of control and violence, with tenderness buried beneath thebruises he leaves. He fucks me until my mind blanks. Until my soul weeps for him.

Until I forget I was ever scared of this man.

Because now, he’s more than my sadist.

He’s my husband.

My Grayson.

And after tonight—

The father of my child.

The Florida’s sun warms my face, but not as warm as his hand sliding over the swell of my belly. We sit on a creaky wooden bench at the edge of the playground, shaded by an old cypress tree, but Grayson’s touch has me burning. He palms the curve of me slowly, reverently, as if he can’t wait to meet our little girl.

“That’s right, princess,” he murmurs to my stomach. “You grow nice and sweet for Daddy. Just like your brother did.”

I roll my eyes, trying not to laugh. Because our son? Sweet?

No.

A loveable terror.

Grayson’s fingertips make small circles on my stomach. “Can’t wait for you to give birth… so I don’t have to be sogentle.”

“That makes two of us.” I blush, yearning for his tenderandcruel touch.

His lips graze my shoulder, though, soft and affectionate. He breathes, “I love you.”

Before I can reply, a shriek erupts from the jungle gym.

Our son, all three years and pure chaos, shoves a little girl into the sand. Her red pigtails flop forward as she wails.

“Hey!” I jump up, horrified. “No, Elijah! Benice! Say sorry right now!”

He huffs and kicks the ground, but my glare holds him in place.

I spin back toward the bench. Grayson still lounges, arms stretched wide, legs splayed open like he owns the damn world. And that grin on his face…

Sinful.

So smug I could slap it off. Or kiss him all over.

I bite my bottom lip, fighting a smile. He raises a brow, his eyes locked on mine. “Sorry, babe. He might be like his daddy.”

“God help him, then.”

“Don’t worry. He won’t be like me. But even if he did, he’ll find a good girl.” His eyes soften, the smugness fading into that same look that always steals my breath. “And he’ll love her with every piece of his soul. Obsessively. Like a man should. Like how I love you.”

I clutch my chest in awe of his words.

“Oh, Grayson. I love you, too,” I whisper, my heart swelling. Because my fantasy came true, and then some. Someone loves me deeper than I ever dreamt possible. And I love him with equal passion and devotion. It turns out, the roughness of his hands and the softness of his heart aren’t opposites. They’re the same.

And only Grayson can leave me breathless — not just in love, but consumed, possessed, and aching for more.

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