Destroyed Destiny (Crowne Point Book 4)

by Mary Catherine Gebhard

  I dragged my hand across my jaw.

  Fucking. Dangerous.

  I reached for my discarded pants, grabbing what I’d stolen from Gemma. Her eyes grew to saucers when she saw it. “I told you, little wife. You’d need lube for this.”

  I crooked a finger, letting her know to come to me. She crawled to me like a cat along the marble, her tits swinging—bigger now, after having Sonnet. Story climbed on top of me and I circled my thumb around her nipples as tulle fell around us, the feathery fabric building a cloudy bubble just for us.

  I dragged the head of my cock up and down her pussy, stopping at her ass. She swallowed, mouth parting.

  “Are you scared, Snitch?”

  “A little,” she whispered raggedly against my lips. “You’re so big and I’ve never done this.”

  I squeezed a large amount of lube onto my finger. “So we’ll go slow. At your pace, little wife.”

  I found her beneath the ivory netting, teasing my pointer finger along her ass. She gripped my shoulders, and I slipped inside her. She let out the most aggravatingly sexy whimper. Her eyes grew, then drooped, locked on me. There it was again. That bottomless well.

  “More,” she whispered against my lips.

  Her naked tits and breath heated my chest. I could take off her dress, but with her ripped-open bodice, and the tulle barely shielding her ass from me, it twisted something dark inside me. My little wife was a queen—one I got to defile.

  “You look like a queen, little wife,” I murmured against her neck, fucking her ass slowly with my finger. “Hmm…” I lifted the tattered lace and bone bodice. “A queen who lets her king do whatever the fuck he wants with her.”

  Her ass squeezed around my finger.

  I grinned. “You like that?” I slid another finger inside her. “What would my queen let me do to her?”

  “Anything,” she breathed.

  I slipped a third finger inside her ass, stretching.

  “Anything?”

  Her breath hot on my lips. “Always.”

  My cock was aching. Hard. Dripping onto my thigh.

  When I spoke, my voice didn’t sound right. Too low. Too rough. “You might regret that, little wife.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but froze as I slid the fourth finger inside her ass. Her head fell to my chest, nails digging into my arms, my neck.

  “More,” she begged, ragged and loud.

  She was ready.

  I pulled my fingers out and she whined.

  My dick jolted at the sound. Lost. She was fucking lost to me. And fuck if that wasn’t addicting, because I was lost to her.

  I flipped her so her back was flush against my chest, so I could feel every squirm she made, and so I could play with her cunt while I slid into her.

  I’d know if I was too much before she told me.

  As I angled my cock with her ass, she squirmed, trying to bare down on me, nails biting into my thigh.

  “Please. Please. Please—”

  I pushed up and she broke off, a twisted, pretty groan slipping from her pouty lips.

  Fucking. Perfect.

  I couldn’t not watch her face. Her dilated pupils or her wet parted lips. Her hand slipped from my thigh and tangled in my hair as she took me up her ass for the first time. I could read everything she was feeling in her eyes, in the way her mouth parted.

  “How do I feel inside you?” My throat hoarse.

  “Big,” she gasped.

  I laughed. “What else, little nun?” I moved aside the curls stuck to the sweat on her forehead. “How do you feel here?” I feathered my touch between her breasts, down her stomach, and across her pussy as I slid in just a little more. “Are you aching? Throbbing?”

  She licked her lips, a small, needy sound slipping from her throat.

  I ripped her back by the hair and slammed my lips against hers, two fingers on her clit, stealing the rest of her sounds.

  They’re mine.

  “More,” she breathed against my lips. “Please.” She tried to push down on my cock.

  “For every secret you give me, I’ll give you an inch of my cock.”

  Her nails dug into me. “I’ll tell you anything. Anything.”

  For months, I’d watched her bleed for another man and I wanted it back. I wanted all of her back. I was greedy for it

  “Why didn’t you tell me what was in your letters?”

  At her silence, I slapped her pussy.

  She arched on a cry. Her nails curled into my neck and her lips searched for mine—like she wanted me to do it again.

  “I was scared,” she breathed, raspy voice ragged.

  “Did you think I would leave you?” I growled against her hot mouth.

  “No. I didn’t know how. I was afraid you would look at me differently.” She groaned the words into my mouth and I slid deeper inside her. I swear the honesty was getting me off.

  She gasped, squeezing around the head of my cock.

  Fuck.

  She liked it.

  Of course she did.

  “More,” she begged. I held her as she writhed on top of me, sweat breaking out on both of us.

  “Give me another fucking secret.”

  “I don’t…” she broke off, eyes fluttering shut, and her ass clenched.

  Crazed, I tore her dress to her thigh, exposing her cunt. Gossamer and feathers fluttered on either side of us, and my little queen was naked for me—though bits of her dress still stuck to her thighs. And fuck, if that didn’t do something to me. Now as I fucked her, as I pounded her ass, I saw her dress torn to shreds and I saw her cunt shiver and quake for me.

  Fuck. I missed her gingerbread skin and the way it glowed for me when she was drunk on sex.

  “I’m going to rip apart your fucking soul.” My voice was shredded like my willpower, I could barely hold it together. “Make you beg me to put it back together.”

  “Please,” she moaned.

  “You know what I want,” I growled.

  I’d nearly bottomed out. I think I was begging at this point too.

  For her soul.

  Or maybe so I could just fucking fuck her already.

  “I don’t know what else there is to say—”

  Another slap.

  Followed by her intoxicating moan, her ass squeezing my cock.

  She sighed hot into my mouth. “Grayson.”

  She was fucking perfect, fucking made for me. Only she looked at my darkness and fucking begged for more. We could be separated by space, by time, and I’d still feel her. We were carved from the same broken star.

  “Tell me all your words. I told you your secrets were mine.” I slid my finger inside her cunt.

  “Oh God.” She arched into it, into the feeling of being filled. “Oh, Grayson. Oh…” she trailed off, stony eyes hazy.

  “Even the dark. Even the ugly. Fucking give it to me.”

  “That night…the night I slept with West—”

  “Was my fault,” I cut her off.

  “You said you wanted all my words, so let me fucking tell them to you!” she yelled.

  “Fuck!” I groaned, arching my back and bottoming inside her. “Then tell me, Snitch.”

  STORY

  “That night I wanted to hurt you.”

  “Yeah?” Grayson rasped.

  “I wanted to destroy us. Desecrate everything that was sacred.”

  His breathing was heavy and jagged. This position was insanely intimate. I never thought it could be like this, but he filled me everywhere.

  Fucking my ass with a hard, destructive rhythm, sliding his fingers in my cunt. Slapping. Toying. Owning. Ripping my jaw up when I forgot to look at him, or if he just wanted to crush his lips to mine, wet and sloppy.

  “I had a thorn,” I gasped. “I begged you to rip him out of me but how could you, when I thought I deserved to be in pain?” His teeth slid across my neck. “I kept pushing it deeper. I kept bleeding.”

  “More,” he demanded. His dick throbbed insi
de of me, like he was getting off to the worst parts of me. The darker I went, the louder he groaned.

  I was twisting in it.

  “But I only want you inside me. In my heart. In my soul. In the dark parts I can’t go. And when I realized there was someone still inside me…making me bleed…”

  “More.” He went harder—punishing.

  “I’m scared,” I admitted.

  “Little nun,” he said soft and coaxing, “do you think anything you say could ever make me leave you? Make me look at you differently?”

  “I-I…” I broke off on a groan as he switched positions, deeper—ripping my darkest, dirtiest thoughts while he gave me pleasure.

  “Be a good girl, Story.” His kiss turned sweet. Hot. Massaging my breasts and down between my thighs. I couldn’t think. “Give me a secret.”

  “I don’t feel bad,” I admitted on a long groan as his fingers rounded my clit. “I’d do it again. Because…because I think that night showed me all the thorns I couldn’t see. That night freed me.”

  There it was.

  The piece that had been cutting my soul. That horrible, jagged shard I was too afraid to say to myself, let alone aloud, to the love of my life.

  I waited for him to shame me.

  To hate me.

  “Grayson—” I tried to backtrack.

  He groaned a deep, longing sound at the base of my neck, head falling to my shoulder blades. “Fucking perfect.”

  Then he lifted his head.

  Our eyes locked.

  It was out.

  It was finally fucking out.

  I felt…free.

  “I knew you were trouble when you kissed me.”

  He crushed his lips to mine, violent and vicious. It was sloppy and wet and desperate. Grayson flipped me to my stomach, his cock bottoming out inside me and I sucked in air.

  This position was the deepest.

  His lips brushed my ear. “Breathe, little wife.”

  He started a slow, gentle, ruthless rhythm until I was nothing but heat and aching. Until my stomach was a knot begging to be undone. Until every slight touch had me preening into it like a cat.

  “Fuck. You’re so perfect.” He brushed the hair out of my face, lips against my neck. “My good little wife, letting me deep inside her soul.”

  His approval made my skin tingle, my teeth ache.

  I would do anything to hear that soft, gentle tone.

  “Please,” I begged.

  I don’t know what I was begging for.

  Harder?

  Slower?

  Faster?

  Just… “More,” I groaned.

  Using me like a doll, he reached under and lifted me up so my ass was in the air and my cheek flush against the marble. Everything about this was wrong and so right. He burned our love onto the marble, on a floor I’d once mopped, where he’d once tormented me.

  “Your soul is fucking mine, Story. Every dark corner, every bleeding piece. You don’t give that shit out to anyone ever again.”

  “Yours,” I sighed. “All yours.”

  He ripped my lips to his for a brief, soul-searing kiss, then he slapped my pussy again and gripped my hips, pounding.

  “Whose cock is inside you?” Pound.

  “Yours.” Pound.

  “Who do you think about when you’re filled?” Pound.

  “You.” I groaned. “Only you.”

  Grayson was everywhere. His muscular thighs caged me, his carved chest and abs hot on my back. His lips and teeth kissed and bit from neck to shoulders to spine.

  I was delirious with him, with his ruthless rhythm.

  He was marking me. Owning me.

  “You don’t have a similar piece, you are my piece,” he snarled against my flesh. “Now come on my cock, dirty nun. Your tight ass is begging to squeeze me.”

  He pushed against my lower stomach as he thrust deep inside my ass.

  And I saw stars.

  The world around me shattered, and then all I knew was rolling, gasping waves of pleasure. Deep, aching waves I think might destroy me.

  “Scream,” Grayson demanded. “Fucking scream, little nun. You own this house.” Thrust. “You own me.” Thrust. “Fucking scream.”

  The great chandelier blurred with his thrusts. I think I screamed, by the way my throat ached. I had a vague view of Grayson’s warm hand closing over mine as I clawed at the cold marble.

  “You are so goddamn perfect when you come,” he murmured against my flesh. “My perfect little wife. You only come for me.”

  His sweet words licked my ear just like the very first time Grayson took me, tethering me as I came. This orgasm felt different. Marked. As if Grayson was holding a hand to my soul, bruising the name Grayson Crowne forever and indelibly with his thumbprint.

  “I will never let you go again,” he continued. “Never lose you again. You don’t fucking bleed for anyone else, ever again. You bleed only for me.”

  Because in our twisted fairy tale, the prince slays the princess, and the princess begs to bleed for the prince.

  Seventy-Six

  STORY

  Grayson and I lay on the floor, and I was grateful for the cold marble. I was hot and sticky with him. He ran his finger along my velvety-soft stretch marks, kissing softly as he went.

  “You don’t know how hard these make me. Seeing the proof you carried my baby.” His eyes darted to mine, heavy-lidded. “I’d like to fill you with more, paint you with more. Would you like that?”

  I can’t do anything but nod, words tangled in lust.

  He grinned, cocky and predatory. He slowly slid up my body, muscles bunching with the effort. Morning light slashed unevenly across his body, highlighting the dimples in his ass, the perfect muscles of his back and shoulders.

  I swallowed when he settled on top of me, his lips above mine. This was the Grayson Crowne I remembered. Not just the confidence to lay naked in the middle of Crowne Hall, but with a huge smile, golden body gleaming in the sun.

  Freed.

  Would I ever get used to him?

  He dragged a finger down my nose. “I want to give you a huge wedding. I want the world to know you’re mine.”

  He played with my lower lip, twisting it, twisting me up. He was already hard again, bruising my hip.

  “Little wife?” he prodded.

  “I…” Another swallow, and he tilted his head, a soft smile on his face at my stuttering. “I think the world is pretty well aware. What with my confession, and the video. Anyway, don’t you want a small wedding?”

  His eyes went dark. “Not with you.”

  I blinked. “I’ll marry you anywhere, Grayson.”

  He grinned, that big, Grayson smile I lived for, then pressed a deep, slow kiss to my lips.

  “So…” I sighed against his mouth. “Are all the coins finally accounted for?”

  Grayson palmed my cunt, but nothing more. I groaned, arching into him.

  “The triplets have three,” he said against my shoulder, still massaging my pussy. “Lottie has the one you gave her. And one went to the DA to keep my grandfather in jail.”

  I jerked up. “Three of them are going to the St. Germaines? Is that okay?”

  “I don’t give a shit. I’m done chasing coins.” He dragged me back down to him, then paused. “You were right, you know.”

  I tilted my head.

  “I wasn’t going to be at peace until I spoke to them. Until I fixed that jagged piece inside me. I think we’ll see the St. Germaines around a bit more.”

  I smiled. “Good.”

  He pulled me back into a kiss.

  “Wait—” I pulled back, but Grayson went right back for my lips. “This is important,” I sighed into his mouth. “I still don’t know how West got the final coin.”

  Grayson paused. “You, little wife.”

  “Me?” I blinked. “What?”

  Grayson stood off the floor, giving me his hand. “This is a conversation better had with clothes on…” He raked hi
s hot gaze up and down my body. “Unfortunately.”

  Grayson gave me his shirt, and then we went to Gemma.

  “The house is so…empty,” I said.

  “Anyone who had even a remote allegiance to my grandfather or the du Lacs is gone.”

  “The servants who helped me?”

  He nodded. “They’re left, but everyone else…well, we’ll have to hire new…everyone.”

  The crystal chandelier refracted on the wall. “We can rewrite the story of Crowne Hall.”

  When we found Gemma, she had Sonnet propped up on her bed, surrounded by a mountain of pillows—in the midst of putting lipstick on her.

  “Gemma, what the hell are you doing?” Grayson yanked Sonnet out of her reach. “She’s barely a month old.”

  Gemma rolled her eyes. “You’re never too young to learn your perfect shade.”

  Grayson closed his eyes, exhaling through his nostrils.

  “Thank you,” he gritted, like it hurt to say. “For watching her.”

  She gave us a thumbs-up, face twisted in sarcasm.

  Gray held Sonnet the entire way back to his wing. Shirtless, muscles flexing as he walked, he reminded me of some old king finished with battle. As she slept in his arms, he held her with a powerful protection.

  He held her even as he rooted around his drawer for whatever he had to show me. My stomach twisted in all kinds of delicious knots. I never thought I’d get this moment. Grayson holding our child, Sonnet curled into his bare bicep, perfectly happy.

  He finally found what he was looking for, handing it to me.

  I took it. “A journal?”

  “It was under my pillow. I think West left it on purpose.”

  Just like that, my gut dropped. The fuzzy warm feeling I had vanished. I didn’t realize my knees had gone weak, until Gray had gripped my bicep, helping me to sit on the couch.

  I gripped the leather. “Did you read it?”

  He nodded. “No secrets, little wife. If you don’t want to read it, I understand. It was clearly left by him, so I’m not sure if his motives were anything other than selfish. But…”

  I lifted my eyes to his.

  “It will give you insight,” he said. “Into everything.”

  I flipped to the first page.