A painful, open look in his blue eyes—then he crushed his lips to mine. Kissed me savage. Senseless. Raw. Until my lips throbbed even when he’d stopped.
“I was really hoping to avoid that whole virgin cliché of coming quick, but your fucking pussy. Shit.”
He laughed and kissed me again.
“You blew my fucking mind, Snitch. You got magic in that pussy or what?”
I giggled, then admitted, “It was amazing.”
He barked a laugh, caressing a line down my face with his pointer finger. “You didn’t come, little nun.”
“You still felt really good.”
He groaned, kissing my throat slow, laving the muscles. “I can’t wait to mark you. Cover you in bruises and bites. Out here where everyone can see. But inside…” He palmed my pussy, finger sliding inside. “Only you’ll feel it.”
Just like that I was worked up again.
Hot.
Needy.
“I want to know everything that makes you scream.” He bit at my shoulder, pumping harder, faster. “Learn what makes your eyes roll back.”
With the silky pillows at my back, and the open window breathing a salty, cool air that hadn’t changed for millennia, it felt like I’d stumbled back in time. The servant who shouldn’t be with the master.
But love always broke the rules.
“Unless you’re done?” He paused his assault, and the sudden stop in sensation was brutal. I didn’t realize how far I’d bowed my back, how I’d shifted my hips to him, until he’d stopped.
“I want you inside me.” I dragged my nails across his shoulders, down his back, to his ass, all but begging.
“Fuck, say that again. Where do you want me?” He tossed the used condom to the side and reached for another.
“Again?” I wondered. How many did he keep on him?
He dragged me on top of his body and I let out a squeal I couldn’t keep inside. Now he was on his back, and I was on him, thighs spread around his chest. His cock was at my ass. His eyes settled between my thighs with a rumbling noise in his chest I felt in my core. He dragged a finger up and down my center.
I dug my nails into his chest, a small whimper escaping me.
“Where do you want me, little nun?” His voice was rough.
“Inside me…”
He shook his head. “In your pussy? In your ass?”
I clenched my thighs at his dirty words. My ass? Did he really want that? And…why did it make my gut tighten?
“My p-pussy,” I breathed.
“So what are you waiting for?” He grinned, throwing my words back at me.
I tensed, suddenly nervous. All the control was in my hands, and I’d never had any control. But the look in his eyes, the hot, half-lidded look, gave me courage. I chewed my lip, slowly lifting myself, sliding onto his cock.
He groaned, jaw clenched, nostrils flared. That spurred me on, until I was filled with him. Until I couldn’t breathe with the fullness. Grayson was somehow even more in this position.
The minute he was totally inside me, Grayson yanked me to him, dragged me so we were both sitting up, and kissed me brutally. Tongue lashing and possessive, stealing my air.
“Your pussy is mine,” he said against my lips, thrusting up and forcing a strangled sound from me. He bit my lip as I cried out.
His words were a dark, forbidden poetry sliding inside my veins and lighting me on fire. I gripped his shoulders, the position forcing him deeper inside me.
“Fuck, you like it dirty. I can feel it on my cock.”
Oh God, I’ve never felt this. I can feel everything. Every molecule. I was already at the precipice, but his kisses, bites, and words…I’m about to shatter.
“Come all over my dick, Story,” he groaned.
“Bite me,” I gasped.
He let out a strangled sound, and then his teeth were on me, just above my breast. I arched into it, into his teeth, into the feeling strangling my core, and let go. I let go and gave in for the first time in my life.
But Grayson’s arms anchored me, and his hot whispers were on my neck, my lips, urging me on.
Fucking beautiful.
You’re so goddamn perfect when you come.
Because even as I tumbled into oblivion, he wouldn’t let me go alone. My thorny, cruel boy was too sweet.
When it was over, when I came back down, he was already watching me. A softness tinged the serious look in his eyes, like a foggy night. I’d wondered before what it would be like to sleep with Grayson Crowne, and now I had my answer.
Untamed, yes, but not how I’d imagined. Not destructive. He was a forest untouched by man, so beautifully raw.
A smile curved his lips. “Goddamn, Snitch. I’m never letting you go now.”
Forty-Two
GRAY
* * *
I’d dragged Snitch’s thigh across my lower abs, stroking her from hip to knee, knee to hip. I couldn’t take my hands off her—something about her flesh eased a tension in my chest. I never wanted to let her go. The floor was hard as fuck, though. Some imported Italian marble my mother had to have, so I pulled her across my body, ignoring the twinge in my shoulder blades. Her breasts pressed against my pecs, and her thighs spread across mine. Fuck. I was already getting hard again.
She blinked at me. “Am I too heavy?”
I laughed at that and pulled her closer, gripping her ass. Goose bumps dotted her flesh, so I asked, “You cold?”
“A little,” she admitted.
I reached for my discarded bomber jacket, draping it over her back.
“Grayson Crowne is very kind,” she mused, playing with the golden strands of hair covering my eyes. “And attentive. And most certainly not a playboy.”
“Good thing no one will believe you.”
She giggled, pressing her lips between my pecs, trying to hide it. I swallowed a groan—fuck, that noise was almost as addicting as her moans.
“Are you upset I joked about your virginity?” she asked quietly after a moment. “I didn’t mean to make you feel…”
“Like some pussy?”
She coughed. “I wouldn’t ever say that.”
“I fucking love it, Snitch. Never stop joking with me. The world puts so much weight on the thing. It’s so serious for whatever stupid fucking reason. You were the only one to laugh with me.”
After a moment, she settled her hands on my chest, her chin on them, watching me with those big soul-searing mossy eyes. I think they’re my favorite part of her, because like her, they betrayed so much. Strength. Vulnerability. Fear. Courage. Right now, they’re slightly pinched, like she wanted to say something.
“Speak, Snitch.”
“The sun is coming up,” she said quietly.
I glanced out the window, where the day smudged the night a blue gray.
“And?”
She looked down, tracing circles on my bare skin. I gripped her chin, lifting her gaze back to mine. I’d gotten so fucking addicted to her stare. Big as walnuts, deeper than the ocean.
“I can’t be forgotten,” she said. “I can’t be left behind again.”
I swiped my thumb back and forth across her softly pointed chin. “Not gonna happen, little nun. That would be like forgetting the moon.”
She furrowed her brow, like what I’d said bothered her, but she didn’t say anything.
“You are the only one in my life I can trust. The only one who has actually been honest with me. I’m never letting you go, Story.”
Her brows caved. “I’m no different than those girls who lied to you.”
She was light-years away from them, from everyone I’d ever known. She’s honest. She’s quiet but strong. She doesn’t hide from her darkness.
I knew in my fucking bones this was it. Story is my girl. She’s it.
I love her. Fuck. I’ve been in love with her.
I pulled her by the wrist back against my chest, holding her tightly. “You’re the only person in my life who’s ever been honest with me, Story.�
��
She tensed.
“There were times I had no choice but to give up parts of myself, so it was really important I never gave anything to those who didn’t deserve to have it. What I’m trying to say is, I thought everyone wanted a piece of me, and I had no choice but to hand the pieces over, but you showed me…” What it’s like to give someone a piece.
“You showed me differently,” was all I said.
She slid off me, pulling her knees up to cover her naked chest. There were tears in her eyes, and alarm pounded in my chest.
“Why are you crying?”
“Because I’m a liar,” she said. “I have so many secrets, Grayson. You wouldn’t look at me the same if you knew.”
“Try me.”
Her brow knitted further, and it must have been minutes before she actually said anything. “You know my mom had her demons. You know I did bad things.”
I remembered what she’d told me. We stole a lot. She taught me how to use my perceived innocence to trap men. Other times it was darker…
“You don’t have to tell me, Story.”
“I want to. I’ve been…holding it in.”
I waited.
“She’d get these guys involved with her, and once they stopped giving her what she wanted, whether it was affection, time, money, that’s when I came in. She’d have me lie, say I’d go to the cops and tell them they raped me.”
A stale silence followed her confession. Story buried her face in her knobby, hazelnut knees, as if trying to hide.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I said lamely.
“It was…” she said. “But I paid for it.”
I pulled her back, forced her head down on my pec. “Go to sleep, Snitch. I’ll be here in the morning.”
STORY
* * *
I knew many hours had passed by the time I woke, because the room was warm and bright. I could hear the caw of seagulls, then the crush of waves, and a strip of bright sunshine heated my right arm. I stretched my arms, fulfilled.
Then it hit me. I was alone.
Every horrible thought slammed into my head at once. It was like video I’d watched of an escalator breaking down. Hundreds of people falling into one another, crammed to one position. Those were my thoughts.
Worthless. Useless. Good for one thing.
“Good. You’re awake.”
I gasped at the voice. Tansy fucking Crowne leaned in the doorway in a light Chanel suit, watching me. How long had she been watching?
This is a nightmare. I haven’t woken up.
I scrambled to cover myself. My clothing was still where we’d left it by the door, so I could only reach for Grayson’s bomber.
She gave me a tight smile. “If I see something new, I’ll tell you.”
Still I held his jacket tighter.
“What…where…”
“Where is my son?” she asked with a bright smile. “Oh, well, he’s with his family of course.”
I chewed on my bottom lip, piercing it with my top two teeth. He promised not to leave me. Promised.
I told him I loved him, but he never said it back. And the realization sat like a hot lead.
That would be like forgetting the moon.
I stared out the window at the bright, sunny day.
We do forget the moon. For a good twelve hours, it’s as if the moon never existed.
I stared at her shoes and she sighed. “Oh, I think we’ve moved far past that.”
I lifted my eyes, staring Tansy Crowne in her red-brown ones. I had to remind myself to breathe.
“I’m late, you know. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”
I bit my tongue, fighting the urge to ask her what the hell she wanted. I knew looking Tansy Crowne in the eyes wasn’t a promotion—it was a sentencing.
“I’ve been thinking about it.” She smiled thinly, rubbing her lip like her son. “If I pay you off, he’ll go searching for you. If I threaten your uncle, it will only last until he dies…” She tsked her tongue like what a shame, too, and I sucked in air. How fucking easy it was to say something so cold.
“You’re lucky, Story.”
Lucky.
She bent down, pushing messy curls out of my face. I was never more aware the difference between us than at that moment. On the floor, naked, alone, while Tansy Crowne, in her bespoke suit and cream leather heels, told me I was lucky.
“We women don’t get much leverage, but when we do, it sticks. You get to be the mistress. You get to look me in the eyes. You get to stay. Because he decided he liked having you in bed. So all I need from you is to learn. No more dressing like you went dumpster diving outside of Goodwill. You’re not a servant anymore. Even our mistresses must wear the weight of the Crowne.”
“I don’t want that,” I blurted. She arched a surprised brow. “I don’t want to be the mistress.”
She laughed—a cold, tinkling sound. “Oh, darling, you don’t get a choice.”
I’d heard the saying “kill them with kindness,” but it was never more appropriate than with Tansy Crowne, who wielded kindness like a dagger. She never yelled at the servants; in fact, we’d grown to shiver when she added words like darling. It generally meant someone was getting deported.
I think the only time I’d witnessed her mask falter was with her daughter, Abigail.
She stood up, giving me a saccharine smile. “I suggest you get dressed, Story Hale. I have to go. I’m late, remember? Late to deal with the repercussions the last person in your position left me. Do you know what happened to him?”
I swallowed.
Theo, Abigail’s love, her bodyguard.
He was…gone.
She smiled. “You do. Good.”
Forty-Three
STORY
* * *
I spent a week accompanying my uncle to appointments at the hospital, trying to avoid everything Crowne, while secretly hoping Grayson would reach out.
He never did.
Now, on the small square TV in the corner of the wall, I watched him and all the Crownes at the pier at Crowne Beach. Abigail wore the Crowne family tiara, an heirloom that supposedly went back centuries. Her fiancé had his arm around her, and she looked absolutely miserable. Blurred in the background were Gemma and Gray.
Always blurry…
I exhaled a sigh.
“Story?” my uncle asked.
“Humm?”
“The Popsicle.”
“Oh!” I handed it to him, though now it had melted down my wrist.
I stared at the TV. Was that what was so fucking important he had to leave without a word? Some family function at the pier? I’d been trying to work it out for a week, trying to understand his silence. Hoping it wasn’t the truth that hung ugly in the air.
I’d been used by Grayson Crowne.
It bit like tiny insect bites into my chest. Because what if it was important. Still, I had to be in the shadows.
I get to be his mistress. That was how his mother had worded it. More and more I felt like I was running a marathon, and once I got to the finish, I’d have to face the truth. Grayson and I could only end one way.
He came into focus a little bit more, and I saw he wore the jacket I’d held to my chest days ago. A sharp pang hit me.
Had he come back for me?
Uncle and I talked for an hour or two about nothing until he was hungry again, and I had to go on a food hunt. He looked so bright and happy, and I could forget the black cloud inside my chest, because Uncle was getting better.
The hospital was beautiful, paid for by Crowne money, and was set close enough to the beach to have a view of the ocean. Summer was basically over. The leaves would turn soon, and in a few more months the year would end.
Christmas.
There was only one vending machine on his floor, and apparently it ate quarters.
I kicked it.
“Stupid machine.” I kicked it again.
“Did you try paying?”
What was
Grayson doing here?
I fought every nerve and need in my body and bones to turn around, instead walking down the sterile hallway, fast. I was gripped by the wrist, spun around. I stared at his chest, at another white T-shirt that cost more than college tuition.
“Let me go,” I said.
“Look at me, Story.”
I did. I glared at him, at his beautiful blue eyes partially obscured by his constantly untamed blond hair.
“How did you know where I was?” I gritted.
He shrugged with one shoulder. “We have eyes everywhere. But I wouldn’t need them to know you were visiting Woodsy.”
I glared harder. “Not everywhere.” His smile dropped.
It was hidden by fog now, only the very top of the decrepit Ferris wheel that marked the one place the Crownes didn’t touch in Crowne Point: the underworld. Once Crowne Park, now known as Horsemen’s Wharf, it was run by the four eponymous boys known as the Horsemen.
“You don’t fucking go there, ever,” Gray growled.
I ripped my wrist out of his. “You left me.”
For a week, my throat choked.
You didn’t just leave me in the morning, you left me alone for a week.
To wonder.
To fight back tears.
His jaw clenched. “Something happened.”
“You had a week. A week. I don’t care what you have to say.”
I shoved him, but he gripped my forearms, forcing me still. “I didn’t have a fucking choice.” I tried to shove him off, but his grip was steel.
“My mother was planning to ship Abigail off to her new family. Was gonna lock her up or some fairy tale villain shit.”
I swallowed a gasp, freezing completely.
“I came for you the minute I could,” he said gently. “I came here for you and Woodsy. I haven’t even seen the guy since I got the news.”
His eyes ached, and I believed him. Believed he’d been pulled in every direction, had bricks upon bricks piled on his shoulders.
“I left you a note.” His eyes found mine. “I waited for you to text me or call me.”
“I didn’t get it. Your, um, your mother found me that morning.” I’d planned on being so angry when I told him, angry for abandoning me and leaving me to be found alone by Tansy Crowne.
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