Rogue (Real #4)(54)

He grabs my hips and eases out, and he says something that shoots a new heat like a lightning bolt through me. “As you wish.”

As you wish.

My favorite movie; and he knows it.

The words, in that movie, mean so much when Westley whispers them. He whispers them right now as I give him my only fantasy.

By the time he starts up a slow, careful rhythm, I’m emotionally unwound and physically unraveling. Tears stream down my face, of pleasure, happiness, and the complete barrage of sensations he fills me with.

There’s a bang on the door, and my body tightens and quivers in reaction, shaking and waiting as I hold myself utterly still. He keeps his pace and remains thrusting, pulsing in me when he stays inside, easing in and out with improved ease every time. His hands tremble on my hips, and I can feel both our bodies straining, our breaths jerking out of our lungs.

“Hey, Romeo, will you answer your goddamn phone!”

Whoever is shouting outside the door is yelling L-O-U-D.

Greyson groans softly but doesn’t stop, and my pulse is thundering in my veins, my heart on the verge of exploding. Oh god please not now.

“Hey, ROMEO!”

Greyson rubs my *, breathing hard in my ear, whispering, “I’m not answering Derek until you come. I’m not pulling out of you until you twist and thrash, right now, in orgasm. Now what do you say when I tell you to come, Melanie?”

I moan as his sexy voice spills through my body, the pleasure so absolute I can’t breathe, think—I can only feel taken and plowed and full and his.

“I don’t know,” I moan.

“What do you say to me, princess?”

He rocks his hips again, gently, as he circles my clit in delicious rubbing circles with two fingers, and I sob As you wish and when I turn my head and he French-kisses my mouth, slow and headily, I come, harder than ever, every piece of me shattering, body, mind, soul, heart, crying softly as I feel him jerk powerfully inside me. He clenches one arm around my waist and pins me to his body, exhaling hard as he comes with me.

When it’s over, we don’t move.

The pillow is wet and I’m quietly sobbing. Greyson pulses, alive, inside me, and I don’t want to lose him. Still in me. Pulsing in the most delicious way. Still somehow hard. I groan when he pulls out and rolls to his back, reaching out to grab my face, searches for any hint of discomfort on my face.

“These tears. Good or bad? Good or bad, baby?”

“Good,” I croak, rubbing my cheek dry with his palm. “Was it good for you too?”

“God, good’s not even a word for it,” he says tenderly, then he takes the rest of my tears with his lips, his eyes all liquid as he kisses my nose, my mouth, in some quiet male gratitude over what I just let him do to me. Over what we did, together.

I’m shaking a little, and he murmurs, “Stay here, princess.” He stands to get rid of the condom and clean up, then he comes back and pulls me against him, brushing my hair behind my ears, his big body cradling mine. “That live up to how you imagined it would be?”

My chest is so full that I’m certain I’m going to burst. “Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined a guy like you or how you make me feel.”

“Princess, the kind of shit between us isn’t normal.” His lips press grimly together for a moment, his eyes darkening. “The way you invade my thoughts sometimes doesn’t sit too well with me, Melanie. In my line of work distractions don’t go well.”

“Is that what I am?”

“A distraction? You’re my f*cking obsession. Not even a fantasy anymore. You’re going to be the death of me, princess, and I don’t give a shit anymore. I just don’t want to be the death of you.”

Fierce, glimmering eyes hold mine as I process his words.

Someone knocks on the door again. “Hey, BOSSMAN! Code 104. Repeat one-oh-four!”

He clamps his jaw as he seems to recognize what that means, then he stands with a vicious growl and slams a fist to a wall.

I swallow and roll to my back, my chest heaving as I try to recover. “Is that Derek? Is he drunk?”

Greyson grabs his clothes and this time yells out his frustration as he smashes his fist into the wall as he passes.

He comes out from the bathroom and slips into his slacks and a clean white button-down shirt but doesn’t even bother to close it as he heads to the door. He slams the door behind him, and I lay here, trembling, exhaling hard.

What we did was . . .

Oh god.

I leap off the bed and go to the bathroom, clean up, splash some water over my face, then I slip into something old and comforting. A T-shirt that I pull out when I’ve had my worst days.

It seems my sixth sense is right.

Grey comes back and grabs my forehead and sets a quick kiss there, then looks at me with liquid hazel eyes, warm and apologetic as he kisses my eyelids. “Go to sleep, I’ll be back as soon as possible. Derek will be here in case you need anything. He’ll drive you anywhere, keep an eye on you for me.”

I think I make a noncommittal movement of my head, but when he leaves, I scream into my pillow over our ruined evening.

I’m not hungry, but I’m an anxious eater so I have some cereal, then I watch TV as I try to calm down my raging senses. I reorganize my drawers. I even stop and turn the locks of all my windows and doors when the familiar fear starts creeping in. It’s late when I fall asleep in bed, waiting for him to come back.