Page 104 of Theirs to Hunt
Only to her.
Chapter eighty-four
Grayson, Tuesday 07:40 a.m.
She was so close.
I felt it in the way she coiled tight around me, every breath shallow, every moan dragged up from somewhere deeper than instinct.
Her legs trembled around my waist, nails digging into my back. She was trying to hold on to something already slipping.
I pulled back, hips grinding in the rhythm I knew would undo her, the depth that always broke her. Watched her unravel under my hands.
And right before she came, I stopped.
Her whole body jerked.
"Grayson," she gasped, eyes wild, desperate.
I didn’t answer with words.
I kissed her throat, slow, then reached for the conditioner slick on the ledge.
"You want to give me everything, little fawn?"
She nodded quick, too quick.
"Yes, please. I was so close." Her whimper tore through me.
I coated my fingers, one hand steadying her, the other sliding lower. Slower.
Between her cheeks.
Teasing.
She tensed for a moment.
Then melted.
One finger slipped in. Careful.
She moaned, sharp and soft all at once, part shock, part surrender.
"Still okay?" My voice was rough.
She bit her lip, nodded.
"More."
My control snapped a thread.
I gave her more. Two fingers now. Slow but insistent, coaxing her open, feeding her heat.
Her face buried against my neck, her thighs clenching, hips searching for more friction, more pressure, more of me.
"You're so fucking tight," I growled.
"And you’re taking it. Every inch."
