Page 66 of Judgment Day

I tore myself away from her and thrust my cock in my fist as heat and pure, agonizing pleasure exploded inside of me, tightening my belly and spilling out all over her perfect ass and up her back.

She collapsed onto her stomach, limp and spent. I brushed her hair from her face and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “We’re not done yet, dove.” Her eyes fluttered open and with that one worshipful look, I knew. She had me. My dark heart and tortured soul were hers.

I was dead, heartless, soulless. She embraced my darkness, kissed my lips, and breathed me back to life.

I climbed off the bed and lifted her into my arms. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

THIRTY EIGHT

I was spent.

Whatever power Grey needed, whatever control, he used it to fuck his demons away. And I used my submission to keep him human.

After he took what he needed from me last night, he carried me to the shower and worshipped at the altar of my body. He kneeled before me, gently scrubbing me clean. He brought his face to my cunt and licked and sucked and ravaged. And then he took me to bed and held me until we fell asleep.

I woke up before he did. The dark sheets had bunched down to his waist. His olive skin glowed in the morning sun. He was still naked. We both were. The weight he carried in his solemn expression every day lifted when he slept. He looked peaceful. He looked content.

This was the man who claimed me in a room full of vultures before anyone else had the chance. This was the man who pulled me from the bathtub when I wanted to drown. This was the man who patiently carried me to bed when I’d run from him and was almost raped. The same hands that took a life that night—and probably another last night—effortlessly made my body sing. He wasn’t a good man. He wasn’t a bad man, either. He was somewhere in between.

He was Grey.

“Don’t do that.” His deep, morning voice vibrated me to my core. I’d been so lost in him that I didn’t even realize he was awake.

I touched his lips with my fingertip. “Do what?”

He dropped his hand, and his face went cold, back to the Grey I’d always known. “Wherever the fuck you went just now. Get back here. With me.”

I felt scolded.

And challenged.

The rebel in me wanted to melt that ice. I wanted to feel his flame.

I reached between our bodies, palming his thickening cock.

His eyes molded into dark pools of blue. “Little bird…” he said with a low growl. His voice was a warning as he brushed his lips against my neck. “As badly as I want to fuck you right now, I made a promise to a twelve-year-old boy.” His hand reached between my thighs and cupped my pussy.God, yes.“And I don’t break my promises.” He moved his hand, and I groaned in protest.

I sighed, then moved my hand from his dick. “Does this twelve-year-old boy happen to be named Ciaran?”

His eyes were on me. Intense. Sad. Confused.

I palmed his cheek. “I met him last night.”

He searched my face, his breath a whisper on my lips. “I should’ve told you at the safehouse.” He squeezed his eyes shut and flexed his jaw.

I ran my fingers through the silk of his hair. “We’d already had enough difficult conversations for one visit.” I pressed my mouth to his. “I didn’t tell him who I was, but I get the feeling he’s pretty smart.” I bit my lip. “He looks just like you.”

His eyes opened and his breath shuddered against my mouth.

“How long have you known?” I asked.

“Not long. A few months.”

“And his mother?” It had to be her. It had to be Sadie.

“Gone.” He tossed the covers aside and climbed out of bed. Nothing like baby mama drama to kill the mood.

My pussy clenched at the sight of his flat, toned stomach, the dusting of hair above his cock and across his broad chest. His strong thighs and biceps, full of thick veins and hard muscle, flexed every time he moved. Even his nipples begged to be kissed.

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