Page 113 of Not Her Day to Die

57

October 13th

Grayson’s hands clench on the wheel as his attention flicks to his stiff cock in his pants before returning to driving.

Does she think I don’t know what they’re doing? Does he?

Grayson finds another bump in the road accelerating onto it at just the right angle. He hears the small gasp Sunday releases.

Grayson is essentially helping his brother fuck Sunday, but that isn’t how he thinks of it.

He is getting her ready, because as soon as they get home, she will behis.

His eyes flick to Darius, to the one that decided to feign sleeping.

He wishes he could have gone that route, too, because forced to drive? Without his eyes finding Sunday in the mirror? Listening to the sounds she releases as Grayson helps to find her pleasure? As the road bumps her up and down? The anticipation of what he plans to do to her?

It is nearly torture.

58

October 13th

Axel isn’t letting me come.

The realization is both frustrating and confusing. I want more than anything to finish what he started, but besides the help of the road he is barely allowing me to move, keeping me in place. When we are nearly home, I realize I really need to get off.

Off of his cock.

But he holds me in place. “Just a bit longer,” he whispers in my ear. “We’re driving him crazy.”

Stiffening, I know exactly who he is referring to.

Understanding circulates through me, Axel was playing another one of his games. His tumultuous psychotic games.

We whip into the garage and then Grayson throws the car in park. Less than a second later, he wrenches the back door open. He ignores Axel entirely, reaching over and plucking me off of him.

“You’re an asshole.” Grayson tells him as he tugs me over his shoulder. His hand landing on my ass as he marches us inside.

He doesn’t stop until we are in his bedroom. He tosses me unceremoniously onto the bed, and I land on my back. Raising myself up on my shoulders I watch as he quickly relinquishes his clothes. He frees his cock first and it springs up towards his stomach.

He’s already hard.

“Grayson?”

His eyes are dark, unfocused as he heaves in and out. “Do you know what you do to me, Sunday? How that was literaltorturelistening to your muted mewls? Knowing what you were doing inches behind me? I wanted to take you off of him and have my way with you in the middle of the road. And that dress? That fucking dress, it’s a snare.” Fully naked, he marches to the foot of his bed, staring down at me.

Reaching behind me, I open up the nightstand, and just as expected, I find a condom, but I also find a small metal bullet. A vibrator. I throw both at him.

He catches them, smiling. “Good girl.”

It is hypnotic how he rolls the condom down his length, how he keeps my attention, how the typical controlled Grayson is on the verge of erupting. Of letting loose the reins that he usually holds so tightly.

And it is because of me.

I do this to him.

My emotions blossom and billow. “Grayson,” I murmur, looking up at him through my lashes, an invitation.