Grey’s grip on my throat tightens even more, leaving me gasping for breath again as his one leg finds its way between mine. I’m already unable to tell what I’m feeling, but at this moment, it’s as if I’m burning up on the inside, with his forbidden touch between my legs, when I can barely breathe properly.
“Please, talk to me, little doll.” His voice breaks ever-so-slightly, and I wouldn’t have noticed it had I not looked into those mesmerizing eyes and seen the vulnerability in them.
“I’m a monster,” I say out loud, the truth hitting me like a hammer to my ribcage, collapsing all over my inner organs yet keeping me alive.
He squeezes my throat until black dots appear in my field of vision while the other trails toward my stomach, inching closer to my panties. I squirm, even when it feels as if everything inside me will shatter into a thousand pieces.
“I don’t deserve anything,” I say dejectedly, watching his jawclench so tightly until it seems he might snap.
“You know that’s not true,” he growls, and I avert my gaze.
He compels me to meet his eyes as his cold fingers tilt my chin up. Exploring me in the alleyway, his touch travels, until his hand finds my arm, slipping under the sleeve of my shirt.
His nails press into my healing scars, making me hiss out a sharp breath, yet paradoxically grounding me. He knows what he’s doing, knows precisely how to keep me afloat when the world threatens to drown me.
“What do you need?” He asks, searching my eyes for the reply.
“I need to hurt. Make me hurt because I can’t handle the reality,” I say with a breath, my voice low and shaky, but never straining.
He nods grimly and meets my eyes with that determined look before his lips clash with mine. His kiss is fierce, a battle for dominance—brutal, intense, and raw until it leaves me breathless. Teeth clash as his hand roams my body.
His hand trails under the edge of my panties, igniting a primal response as I buckle my hips against his touch.
“I will always do whatever it takes to bring you back to reality. If you want me to hold you, I will. If you want me to hurt you, I fucking will. If you want me to kill for you, I will bring their heads to you on a silver platter. Don’t underestimate the allure of darkness I’d go through for you, little doll,” he growls, his voice thick with emotions.
I swallow the lump in my throat as his hand finds my clit and circle it with expert fingers.
From his back pocket, he retrieves something that glints in the light of the nearby lamppost. It’s a knife, a different one than the last one, but a knife nonetheless. A pen knife—I have no idea where he got it from, but it provides a rare sense of relief and security. It’s a small anchor in the storm.
“Do you trust me?” he asks, holding the knife to my now-barearm. We removed the bandages a few days ago.
“Always,” I breathe, squirming as his other hand resumes circling my clit.
He dips a finger inside me, and I can’t help but bite back a moan as he traces over my scars with tender precision. Our eyes lock, his unwavering as he moves deliberately, focusing on making each slice precise—not too deep, but enough to sting, and far away from the stitches Daxton made. He kisses each scar as he goes, slowly pulling my soul back to earth with every touch.
Ecstasy washes over me as he continues to finger me, all the while steadying me. Within a few seconds, I come undone on his fingers—a connection of two souls seeking refuge in the only way they know how.
Emotions clog my throat as Grey smiles, removing his hand from me and wiping the blade on his T-shirt. He stands and observes my reaction. I feel like an insect under a magnifying glass, but I push away the feelings of shame. He’s done this before,seenme at my most vulnerable. I do the only thing I know how to interrupt the loud voices in my head—I kiss him.
Without hesitation, he meets my kiss with equal fervor before turning me to face the alley wall. He skims off my panties and pants, showing no care for the fact that we’re in a public place.
“Grey—” I begin to protest, but squeal when a sharp smack hits my ass cheek, leaving a stinging sensation.
I hear him undoing his belt, and heat pools in my core. His hands roam my frame, pressing my cheek against the gritty wall and positioning my ass toward him. I’m bent to his will.
His hand eagerly explores my slick heat once more, and I’m drenched. His cock prods at my entrance, anticipation thrumming through me as I wiggle my ass, earning another sharp spank that only heightens my arousal. My hands brace against the wall, my eyes darting to the bleeding wounds fromhis cuts and the scars left by Arthur below them. The sight of the crimson droplets makes my stomach churn, but there’s no time to dwell as Grey drives into me with a forceful thrust, my head falling back in a blaze of pleasure. He moves with hard, fast strokes, chasing the release we both so desperately crave.
We’re out in the open—anyone could find us—but neither of us gives a damn. He feels so fucking good filling me up, my nipples hardening as they press against the cold wall.
But for a split second, a shadow moves in my peripheral vision, and my breath catches. I freeze, not daring to utter a word when Grey continues to drive into me.
The shadow slowly approaches us, and a chill spreads through me as I first notice the shoes, then the tall, lean frame, and finally, those uncanny eyes that plague my nightmares. Terror courses through me as I stare at the shadow, my breath ragged and uneven, while Grey’s moans fill the air.
Emilio Ricci.
He is there.
My heart pauses as I struggle to breathe. “G-Grey,” I stutter.
