Page 17 of Shades of Ruin (Sharp Edges Duet #2)
Chapter Fourteen
ANGéLICA
M y vision is an angry haze as I storm back into the kitchen, not caring how loud my entrance is when the door swings violently behind me.
“We’re down a dessert,” I announce for everyone in the kitchen to hear.
I refuse to look at Greyson, ignoring his overbearing presence and stalking toward the locker room to calm down before I start screaming how I really feel.
Oblivious to how close I am to exploding, Greyson catches my arm as I pass and yanks me in front of him.
“And how the fuck did that happen?” he hisses, rage written plainly on his face.
He’s been looking for an excuse to lay into me since this morning, and fucking Collette just gave him the perfect opportunity.
“I tripped and threw it at Collette’s tits.” I’m tempted to add that it sounds like he’s well acquainted with them, but I value my job enough to hold back that little detail until we’re in private.
Greyson massages his temples like just looking at me has given him a migraine. “You will go out there and apologize to Collette right now. ”
I glare at him. “No, I will not.” My tone is steady in spite of the frustration that’s sent my hands trembling at my sides.
“You do not have the privilege of telling me no . Get your ass out there and apologize. Now.”
“Oh fuck off , Greyson.”
I know it’s a mistake the moment the words leave my mouth. The pure silence in the kitchen is heavy and oppressive as everyone holds their breath, waiting for his reaction. It’s like standing in the calm eye of a hurricane, knowing that imminent destruction is waiting on the other side.
“Everyone go home—you’re done for the night,” Greyson shouts, his voice like a sharp crack of thunder. His blazing blue eyes are locked on me as people swarm around us to avoid impending chaos. I make no move to leave. It’s more than obvious that his command isn’t meant for me.
I don’t know how long we stand like that—three feet apart with enough fury building between the two of us that the heat of it is scorching.
When I finally break free from his glare to look around, the kitchen is empty.
The instant my guard is down, he pounces.
Strong fingers wrap around my throat and push me backward until I collide hard with the counter.
He presses himself against me, and I can feel every steel-edged contour of his body.
Using his weight, he forces my back to bend until I feel it might break with the force of it and holds me there, hovering at an uncomfortable angle a few inches above the counter.
“You do not get to talk to me like that in front of my staff,” he growls, his fingers squeezing so tightly around my throat that my vision starts to darken. “In my fucking kitchen, it is yes, chef and only yes, chef . Do I make myself very goddamn clear?”
“Fuck you,” I choke out, my self-preservation fizzling out of my body along with my oxygen.
“Fucking christ, stop pushing me, Angélica.” The strength in his fingers wavers for a moment—like he’s fighting himself just as much as he’s fighting me.
“Why don’t you bend me over and make me, chef?” I’m flirting with annihilation, and I’ve never felt more alive.
Vicious hands have me flipped onto my stomach with my face pressed hard into the counter before I have a moment to regret my reckless bravery.
I gasp when Greyson’s fingers slide under my hips and rip open the buttons on my jeans before tearing them down to my knees.
I don’t fight him as those harsh fingers yank the skimpy lace of my thong to the side and sink into my wet pussy.
I’m too overcome with need to even protest as he assaults my cunt with punishing thrusts of his hand.
He’s not gentle—he wants this to hurt , and mierda I’ve never needed anything more.
“You’re so fucking soaked,” he growls, stretching and twisting his fingers so there’s no escaping the sweet pain of him being inside me.
“Is that why you fight me every goddamn minute of the day?” His other hand slams against my ass, sending sparks of pleasure scattering over my skin.
“Your pretty cunt is just begging to be wrecked, isn’t it? ”
“Yes,” I moan, pushing against him so his fingers fuck me deeper. I need more. I need so much fucking more. Another slap lands on my ass, the force of it so brutal I know it’ll bruise.
“Damn, you’re a stunning little painslut.
” I whimper as another finger forces its way inside me.
I’m so full but not full enough. The next time his hand falls on my sore ass, his fingers have curled into a fist. The forceful thud knocks the air from my lungs and has my pussy clenching around him.
“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” he asks, his fist punching into my ass again.
“Yes,” I gasp with my eyes clenched tight, every sense in my body honed in on the way his hand obliterates my sanity with every blow, and his fingers hit that perfect spot deep within me. When he hits me again, I cry out, the sound desperate and pathetic and starved .
“What do you want, Angel? You want me to make you come like this?” He curls his fingers inside me, stroking the spot that will make me gush all over his hand if he keeps going. “Or do you want more?”
“More, please. I need more.” His fingers ram into me faster, tearing soft cries from my lips. I’m already so close to coming that I have to hold myself back, and I’ve been waiting since he walked in on me this morning.
“You want me to shove my thick cock into your dripping hole and ruin this pretty cunt the way you deserve?” he growls, his lips so close to my ear I can feel the heat of his breath on my neck.
We’re in his fucking kitchen , so for once I give him the answer he asked for. “Yes, chef.”
“ Christ, angel .”
Suddenly his weight is gone, and I hear the distinct sound of a belt buckle loosening and a zipper tearing open.
He drags my panties down my thighs, and there’s no warning before he slams into me, his cock stuffing me so full I feel like my pussy is being split open as he spears me to my aching core.
He pulls out before sliding into me slowly, and that’s when I feel the little metal studs dragging across my sensitive nerves.
He’s pierced. The realization sparks something deep in my memory, but I’m too hazy to pin down what .
“You’re so tight,” he groans, finding a ruthless rhythm that rips me apart and pieces me back together at the same time. “Fuck, it’s like you’re strangling me with this greedy little pussy. Do you like taking my cock, angel?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” I droll on senselessly as my mind is fucked right out of my body with each violent thrust of Greyson’s hips.
“Yeah, you were made for taking me,” his hand slides up the back of my neck and grips my hair at the base of my skull, “bent over the counter like a good fucking girl.” His other hand captures my fingers and slides them between my wet thighs. “Touch your clit. Show me how good it feels, angel.”
The second I touch my clit, flames erupt in my core. “I won’t last long,” I whimper as I circle the swollen nub with my middle finger. “I’ve been on the edge all day.”
“I’ve tortured my pretty girl today, haven’t I?” I can hear the smile in his voice because he knows he has.
“Yes.” I try to sound angry, but the word that leaves my mouth is desperate.
“But you love it when I’m cruel.” He dips down and sinks his teeth into my neck, biting down so hard I shriek.
“I do not,” I gasp even as I feel the first sparks of an orgasm start to flare inside me. A hard slap falls on my ass, adding fire to my burgeoning climax.
“Don’t fucking lie to me.” He adds another couple smacks right on top of the first. “Now come on my cock and show me how much this pretty cunt likes to suffer for me.”
The next time his pierced cock slams into me so deep it’s agony, my orgasm bursts with more force than I’ve ever felt in my life.
White spots dance in my vision as I ride the high, each of Greyson’s thrusts lighting up my nerves with pleasure and pain until I feel like I might pass out from the overload of sensation.
“Fuck, angel,” he groans as he comes, and the rush of liquid heat flooding my core sends me falling over the edge for the second time.
“Grey,” I cry out, my nails digging into the skin of his back so I can leave a mark of my own.
When the raging adrenaline and lust start to leave my bloodstream, I realize I’ve made the most irresponsible career choice in the world. And I’ve never felt fucking better.
“Step out of these,” Greyson commands, tugging my jeans and panties down to my ankles.
I kick off my Converse and let him strip off the sticky jeans and thong.
I feel him untie his apron from around my waist. He tugs it off my head, his hands getting tangled in my hair.
“Sorry,” he sighs when I whimper a bit at the sting of him yanking free from my messy curls.
I stifle a hysterical giggle—he’s spent six months bullying me without remorse, and he apologizes for a little hair pull? Gavin Greyson is an enigma that I will never, ever understand.
Strong hands grab my hips and flip me around before setting me up on the counter.
I keep my eyes lowered, afraid to meet the searing gaze of my boss—who just bent me over the counter and fucked me like a whore.
I feel his cum spilling out of me and pooling onto the black quartz.
Embarrassed, I try to close my legs, but his fingers slap down on my thighs and pry them back open.
“Keep yourself spread for me,” he orders. “And don’t move.”
It’s a struggle to keep myself from looking up as he moves around the kitchen and turns on the sink, but I can’t risk catching his attention right now.
I’m not sure I can ever look at him again.
We crossed a line—blew it to fucking hell—and I don’t know how we move forward after this.
Will he still want me in his kitchen after he’s fucked me in the middle of it?