Page 37 of Piggy

Charlotte

Grayson’s powerful hands drag me across the bench seat like a ragdoll. My back flies flat. Pants gone. Underwear ripped and flung onto the dash.

His mouth is on my slit before I can breathe.

“Oh my gosh! Grayson—”

“Are you fucking insane?” he growls into my pussy, his tongue hot, thick, ruthless. “You really think you can leave this?”

“I—I...”

His teeth graze my clit, a wicked threat, and I jolt.

“Answer me,” he snaps, reaching up to give my cheek a firm swat! Just enough to remind me who I belong to. Challenging me.

I whimper.

He smacks me again, a touch harder, then grips my jaw .

“You told them I slap you?” His eyes sear, dark and mocking. “You haven’t even seen me mean it yet.” He releases my chin with force.

Before he attempts a third slap to my cheek, I cover my face, peeking through trembling fingers. He lowers his mouth, exhaling a heavy breath on my slit. “Bet you want more, huh?”

I sniffle, but God, those eyes, his masterful touch, this man who makes my heart swell just being near him. He saw me first. Touched me, fell for me, took care of me. All first.

So, I nod, both hating my submission but loving that it’s to him.

Unfortunately, he chuckles, mean and aroused. “That’s what I thought. You like it rough. You melt when I hurt you, don’t you, Piggy?”

True, but maybe not anymore?

Therefore, I deflect with a different truth. “I... I should have talked to you alone. I’m sorry,” I squeak out, the words barely forming under the panic in my throat.

His voice softens, but only in volume. “You should be.”

He jerks my hips up higher and devours me. Tongue greedy. Sucking so hard on my clit I am hot in seconds.

I love it.

“You don’t get to leave,” he murmurs against my skin. “You’re mine. You fucking begged for this pain. Don’t act dumb now. ”

“Then show me like you own me.” I clutch his head hard, and to my shock, I pull his mouth harder against my pulsing clit.

I can’t get enough.

Who am I?

But I writhe against his tongue, anyway, owning his mouth as much as he’s done to mine.

I can’t see his reaction, but I feel it. His hands clutch my thighs like vices. I know I’ll bruise. He doesn’t care. He’s crippling me, ravaging me, body and soul.

I squirm, I gasp, I lose myself. His tongue strokes every nerve-ending with purpose, with a rage that shouldn’t feel this good. But does.

“Grayson... ohhh, baby,” I pant, my climax surging fast.

He exhales against me, voice a deep rumble to my pussy: “Cum, you backstabbing brat. Feel what only I can give you. What you don’t deserve.”

I break . My whole body arches.

Before I can come down, his cock slams into me. Deep and brutal. He’s huge, rock-hard, furious.

The truck creaks , and our ragged breathing fills the cabin.

Just then—

His hand wraps around my throat, tight but practiced. Controlled. He’s holding back for me ... I think. I hope.

“You like making me jealous, don’t you?” he growls, biting back a dark laugh. “Matt? Really? Trade in your sadist for that sad fuck. You’d come crawling back on all fours like the desperate pig you are.”

I whimper, “I can’t—”

But my breath catches as he ruins me.

I tremble even more, moan, cum again. He loves it. He loves seeing me unravel.

He keeps going, punishing strokes, marking me inside, making me forget every reason I had to leave. There’s only this. Only him. His cock. His rage. His cruel love in every thrust.

But, his grip tightens on my neck.

Oh no! I’m blacking out!

“Grayson!” I snatch his wrist with both hands. My voice cracks under his palm, but I force the words out. “Stop! Stop!”

To my surprise, he freezes, panting. Eyes blazing. Brow lifted.

Every time I fully trust him, he adds something that hurts more. He pushes and pushes, testing me in ways I never imagined. Never wanted to. And at this moment, it’s not just the choke that awakens something wild in me.

Through the chaos of my mind, the confusion, the racing thoughts, clarity finally hits: “Fuck me like you love me.”

He scowls. “I am,” which startles me even more.

I suck in a sharp breath. But he only blinks, still lost in the violence of his black heart.

So I show him, knowing his claim can’t be true. Pain is not love .

Thus, slowly, I roll my hips, grinding against him, easing him deeper. I slide my arms around his neck and kiss him, soft and slow. I stroke the muscles beneath his shirt, worshipping every inch of him.

“I’m yours,” I whisper against his lips, knowing he loves that. But now, I add what I yearn for: “I want all of you, Grayson. But that includes the part that knows how to love.”

He squints, still breathing hard. And somehow, the storm in him calms. His movements slow. He drags his lips along my tender throat, my jaw, my mouth. Every inch he once conquered, he now adores.

I hope. God, I pray he isn’t acting. That this monster can love me gently.

His hips still pump, deep and heavy, but this time with reverence. And when his body tenses, his groan is filled with his own pain. I swear it.

He spills inside me, his thickness throbbing at my sopping entrance. His forehead presses to mine.

The world fades. It’s more beautiful than our first time, because now, it wasn’t careful out of pity. He loves me. He showed me. The way I needed him to.

“I love you so much,” I breathe, our bodies tangled in sweat and sex. I exhale heavily, “Did you like it that way, baby?”

He pauses, then replies with a firm:

“No.”

My heart stumbles, and my eyes snap open. The haze of pleasure lifts, my vision crisping. But then I see it in my peripheral. His phone, glowing from the floorboard.

A notification.

Killian

Brax knows ur fuckin his sister!!!