He pushed in a little more, and I gasped.

“You tell me when it hurts, and we stop.” His voice was strained.

He was big, and maybe it hurt, but it hurt in a right way. That gnawing, dripping ache was satiated by the pain.

“More.” I grasped his shoulders, urging him into action. Dragging my hands down his muscled back, begging for more. I could tell he wanted to go further, but something was stopping him.

I shifted, trying to urge him. His neck was corded, and his biceps were so strained I could see muscles I didn’t even know how to name.

“You sure?” He frowned at me.

“I want to feel you all the way in me, please.” I kissed him, begging him with my lips. “Please,” I asked against his lips. There was a mental block in him. Maybe he didn’t want to hurt me, I don’t know. But he was still torturously barely inside me, so I took his bottom lip between my teeth and bit. Hard.

He slammed into me on a groan. I gasped out of the bite as my breath disappeared into stars of pleasure. His lips came to my neck. It was a lot. It was pain. I couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe.

But oh my God.

It was perfect.

“Story?” Grayson’s worry filtered in through my fog of pleasure. “Was that too much?”

“It wasn’t enough,” I rasped.

“Fucking perfect,” he groaned, head falling to my shoulder.

And then he pumped, in and out, a slow rhythm that had me feeling every inch and ridge of his cock. Over his shoulders, I could see the muscles in his back work, the dimples of his golden ass.

Grayson Crowne was on top of me, inside me, and I’d never felt anything so amazing. I didn’t think I could come this way. After West, I never dreamed I could, but oh my God.

I shifted, rolled my hips, starting to feel it, go with it—and he stilled.

“Fuck,” Gray said. “Oh fuck.”

I felt him tense, and I realized he was coming, his lips pressed to my neck, and the guttural sounds he made sounded a lot like my name.

He rolled back, staring at the ceiling, throwing one sinfully carved arm on his forehead. The condom was still on, and his cock was still so big, even if it wasn’t hard. He just stared at the ceiling.

One minute passed.

Two…

Insecurity crawled hot up my spine.

Was it really so terrible?

Another minute passed as he just stared at the fucking ceiling.

When it was over with West, he did the same. Rolled off me, grabbed his phone. Then he got out of bed and threw my clothes at me. I couldn’t have that happen again. Couldn’t have my clothes tossed at my face. So I sat up, reaching for them.