Page 41 of Grim

BoundfortheBall

I twist in front of the mirror, frowning at the corset as I try to yank the laces tighter with one hand. It’s like wrestling a romanticized boa constrictor. “Why did I think I could do this alone?”

“Because you’re a bit mad,” comes Seek’s chirpy little voice from the corner, followed by him flopping onto the bed like he owns it. “An’ you ain’t even had a proper fitting! That bodice is gonna pop off and take someone’s eye out.”

I glance at him over my shoulder, trying not to laugh. He’s sprawled out like a Victorian ragamuffin, arms behind his head, ghostly boots kicked up in casual repose. Esther sits delicately beside him, tail flicking with exaggerated disapproval.

“Why don’t you come lace me up then?” I say, spinning to face him. “Or are ghostly fingers only good for breaking dishes?”

Seek gasps with mock offense. “’Scuse me! I was a really good helper in me time. I had the nimblest fingers in East London!”

I turn back around and feel the unmistakable cold presence of his hands fiddling with the corset ribbons.

“There,” he says triumphantly, tugging the last loop. “All tight, like a sausage roll. ”

“Great. Just how every girl dreams of feeling in a corset.”

Esther hops down from the bed and circles my feet with a grumpy mrrrrow , brushing against the hem of the dress. I look down at her and give a little twirl.

“Do you like it?” I whisper.

She blinks at me slowly, like I asked a foolish question.

Seek, however, whistles behind me. “You look like a right queen. Reckon if I still had a heartbeat, it’d be thumpin’ like a drum.”

“Thanks, Seek.” I reach back to ruffle his hair, causing him to beam brightly.

“Blimey, Kane’s gonna melt in his shoes when he claps eyes on you.”

“Oh, Seek.” I laugh as I feel my cheeks heat up.

Honestly, I don’t know what’s going on with the man. He got back from the OtherWorld a few hours ago, ordered me to get ready, and proceeded to leave again, saying something about having to make a stop before we left. He was brusque.

“It’s true! He’s got that look about him, ya know? Like he’s on fire.”

“Smoldering, Seek.”

“That’s the one.”

Before we can say any more, the door creaks open behind me.

I glance up and catch the flicker of black as Kane steps into the room—and then stops dead in his tracks. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe.

His eyes rake over me, and I swear I can feel the tines in his gaze. Smoldering indeed.

I watch his throat work around a swallow.

Seek freezes next to me, then cackles. “Oi! Kane, you look like you’ve been struck speechless by love. I swear I see hearts in your eyes.”

Kane’s jaw tics. “Seek. Out.”

“But I haven’t even—”

“Out.”

Esther huffs and leaps off the bed.

Seek throws me a wink and mouths, Told you so , before disappearing through the wall .

The silence stretches thick between us until Kane finally exhales a single word. “Fuck.”

The corner of my mouth twitches. “Not the most articulate response.”

“You’re—” he starts, then abandons the sentence entirely. His eyes flick back to the curve of my waist, the corset cinched tight, the sweep of the skirt. “You look good.” He swallows the compliment.

“Good?” I arch a brow. “Milk chocolate is good. Finding a dollar in your pocket is good.”

“ Mais oui, you are correct. I do not know why I said that. You look fucking incredible. Stunning.” He drags a hand through his hair.

“You are wrapped up like a present I want to take my time unboxing. Then I want to play with the pretty toy I find inside for a long time. Before wrapping you back up and taking you to this party. So, yes, you look good.”

Heat creeps into my cheeks. “I could say the same about you.”

There’s an awkward silence in which Kane’s eyes never leave me.

“You’re staring,” I say, my voice too light, too shaky.

He tilts his head, scowl fixed on my mouth. “Yes,” he rasps, “I am. Would you like me to stop?”

“No,” I admit easily.

“Good, because I’m not sure I could anyway.”

His lips twitch, but the usual snark doesn’t come. Instead, he just stares, jaw tight, eyes molten.

“Rue,” he says, low and steady.

I swallow. “Yes?”

“I’m not sure how I feel about other people seeing you in this decadent outfit. I don’t want anyone getting any ideas.”

I smirk, lifting my chin. “Better stay close then.”

Kane’s smile is sharp as a blade. “Oh, I will.”

He inches toward me with deliberate clicks of his heels on the wood floor.

“Lift the front of your dress up, Mayday. Now.” His voice is rough, and it hits me low, curling in my gut like a match just struck.

“What?” My breath catches. “Why?”

His eyes drop to the hem of my gown. His gaze moves like hands—tracing, claiming—and when it comes back to mine, it’s not the usual simmer.

“Because a dish this delectable,” he says, each syllable deliberate, dragged out like he’s savoring them, “cries out to be eaten.”

He closes the distance between us, the heat of his presence catching fire against my body. His stare makes my knees consider collapsing.

“I’m going to feast on your cunt,” he whispers, so close that I feel the words slide down the slope of my neck, “until you come down my throat.” His voice is low, dangerous, and somehow still calm, like a storm on course for land.

My pulse roars in my ears.

“And then,” he growls, “I’m going to flip you around and fill you from behind. Hard. Deep. Until we are both writhing and shaking with a desperate release so primal and feral it’ll echo in the walls of the OtherWorld.”

“Oh.” It’s the only sound I can formulate. A pathetic, breathless vowel. Not even a real word—just the sound of surrender.

My fingers tremble slightly as I reach for the fabric. The air feels electric, like the moment before a thunderclap. Every nerve in my body is dialed to him. To this. To the weight of his words still ringing in my ears, dragging need down my spine like a blade made of fire.

I raise the dress up slowly, exposing the tops of my thighs, then higher still, until the cool air kisses my bare flesh, and I stand before him, open and waiting. My chest rises and falls in shallow little gasps. I don’t dare speak.

Kane stares. And stares.

And then he slowly sinks down to his knees.

A silent act of supplication before he devours me.

The second Rue’s fingers wrap around the hem of her dress and she brings her hands to her waist, I pounce.

Not like a man chasing hunger—no, I move with purpose.

A predator on the hunt who already knows his prey will surrender.

My hands slide up her bare legs, my fingers tracing over her calves, her knees, her trembling thighs.

An appreciative groan escapes me at the sight of her mound hiding behind a thin strip of black lace.

I glance up just once, locking eyes with her. She’s flushed, breathing shallow, trying to stand still.

“These come off,” I rasp, tugging at her panties. “Now.”

She slips them down without a word, and I guide them the rest of the way—lifting her feet, one at a time—then toss the lace to the floor like a trophy.

There she stands, bare, beautiful, perfect. And I stare, just for a moment. Just long enough to commit it to memory.

My eyes flick to her cunt. Slick. Pink. Pulsing. A fucking masterpiece.

“Look at you,” I whisper. “Shining for me already. Exquisite.”

I lean in and kiss her inner thigh first before moving upward, continuing to stalk her body with my mouth.

I press my mouth to the bundle of nerves for a lick and some firm pressure. When I separate from her with a gentle kissing noise, a low rumble of approval emits from deep in my chest. The vibration causes Rue to let out a delicious moan.

“Eager,” I muse while giving her clit a hard suck.

I explore her folds with precision, teasing her clit with the flat of my tongue, then licking up with just enough pressure to make her thighs shake.

“You’re doing so well,” I praise, knowing that Rue’s pleasure is tied directly to her level of comfort.

She releases an appreciative whimper when I tell her, “Wider,” while lightly tapping her thighs.

She obeys without hesitation.

I bring my tongue instantly back to her cunt, this time exploring deeper.

The tip penetrates her tightness as the rest of my tongue massages and strokes against her clit.

As her moans deepen and her thighs soften, she places her hand to the top of my head for support and possibly for a bit of control.

“That’s it,” I say without stopping my assault on her pussy. “Bury me in your cunt, Rue. Use. My. Face.” Each word quakes from my throat, sending vibrations along my lips and tongue.

I feel Rue’s legs begin to shake, and my hands take firm hold of her ass.

She responds to the pressure by subtly bucking her hips upward. I reward her instincts with a low, deep hum as I shake my head savagely from side to side.

“Your desperation is delicious, Mayday. I want to drown in your pleasure.” My voice comes out heated, like a popping, crackling fire. “Can you come for me now?”

She whimpers. Nods.

“I’m close,” Rue says, though the way her body screams for me makes those words seem comically redundant.

I know, Mayday. Oh, I fucking know.

To emphasize my possessive thoughts, my tongue travels to her sensitive clit and I flick it greedily, coaxing her body closer to the cliff’s edge of pure desire.

When the stimulation becomes too intense, she grips my hair firmly.

I respond to her nonverbal request by placing my mouth fully over her wet cunt.

Her voice rises, her legs spasm, and my hands lift her slight frame from her ass just a fraction off the ground, devouring her like the first meal after a fast.

Her orgasm rides out in waves, and my tongue doesn’t slow—not until she’s done shaking. I lick her clean reverentially, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her thighs, her mound, whispering between each one.

“ Douce. ”

“ Souple. ”

“ Paradis. ”