Page 7 of Sweet Pucking Revenge (2-Hour Quickies #6)

Grayson

My phone buzzes during my workout.

Maggie : Just wanted to say goodbye and thank you for being so kind. Flying back to Mexico ASAP.

The weights clatter as I drop them.

Me : So soon? Thought you’d stay longer. Something happened?

Maggie : Kyle happened. Turns out I was just his Mexican toy. He already has the next one in sight: Lenora.

That asshole! My fingers shake as I type.

Me : Don't move. I'm coming over.

Maggie: You don't have to,

Me: Yes, I do. 20 minutes.

I make it in fifteen, still in gym clothes, heart pounding from more than the rushed drive. Dorian opens the door before I knock.

"Thank god," he whispers. "She's been crying for hours."

Maggie sits curled in an oversized armchair, looking small and un-Maggie-like. No makeup, wearing what looks like Dorian's silk robe. Her eyes are red, but she manages a weak smile.

"You didn't have to come."

"Yes, I did." I take the couch closest to her chair. "What happened?"

She tells us everything. Kyle's cruelty. The other women. Lenora. Each detail makes my blood boil, but I force myself to stay calm. She needs support, not anger.

Guilt claws at me. I should have said something. But I honestly don’t think she would have believed me. Sadly, she needed to see for herself.

"So that's it." She wipes her eyes. "Back to Cancún. Back to reality."

"After less than a month?" Dorian perches on her armrest. "Honey, you can't let that pendejo win."

"What choice do I have? My tourist visa's good for six months, but..." She looks away. "My family's expecting an engagement announcement. They're so excited about the 'successful American hockey player' I've been dating. Papá's already planning this huge party to meet Kyle."

"So give them one." Dorian brightens. "I'll do it! I'll be your fake fiancé! The fact that I’ve always wanted to see Cancun has nothing to do with my offer. Just the Neil Diamond inside of me speaking.”

Despite everything, Maggie laughs. "Right. Because my traditional Mexican Catholic parents will totally believe I'm engaged to a man who's currently wearing a sequined kimono."

"Excuse you, this is vintage Versace." He strikes a pose. "And I'll have you know I'm an excellent actor. Though..." He taps his chin thoughtfully. "Your Venus is in Mars, which could complicate things..."

"My what?"

"Never mind. Told you Nova's been teaching me astrology—fascinating stuff, really. But you're right, your parents might not buy it." His eyes slide to me. "Now, if only we knew another successful hockey player. Someone trustworthy, handsome, already friends with the family..."

My heart stops.

"Dorian, no." Maggie sits up. "We can't ask Grayson to—"

"Why not?" The words come out before I can stop them. Me and my big mouth again. Only… maybe it wasn’t my big mouth this time. Maybe it was my heart getting ahead of my brain—because some part of me already knew. If she goes back to Cancún, I lose her. And if pretending to be her man is the only way to hold on… I’ll take it. Even if it’s fake. "It makes sense."

Both of them stare at me.

"Think about it," I continue, trying to sound logical rather than desperate. "Your family already knows you're dating a hockey player. I can play that role. We'll announce the engagement, you save face, and eventually we'll have a public breakup. No harm done."

Except to my heart , I don't add.

"But..." Maggie bites her lip. "That's a huge ask. Your reputation—"

"Is fine. Hockey players get engaged, break up, date all the time. Nobody cares."

I will.

"And it would really stick it to Kyle," Dorian adds. "Imagine his face when he realizes you're 'engaged' to his captain. My panties get wet just thinking about it."

Something flashes in Maggie's eyes. "Karma will make him pay eventually."

"Oh darling." Dorian's smile turns wicked. “Like the Beatles said— sometimes karma needs a little help from her friends .” He looks at me meaningfully. "Hot friends."

Maggie studies me. "You'd really do this?"

I'd do anything for you. "Of course."

"Then..." She takes a deep breath. "Yes. Let's do it."

"Perfect!" Dorian claps. "Now, about the ring—"

"Already covered." I pull out my phone. "My grandmother's is in a safety deposit box in Philadelphia. I can have it sent overnight."

"Your grandmother's ring?" Maggie's eyes widen. "Grayson, that's too—"

"Perfect." I meet her gaze. "She'd want it used for something meaningful."

The look that passes between us makes my chest tight. Dorian glances from me to Maggie, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

"Well!" He stands dramatically. "I'd love to help plan this delicious deception, but I have a date. A very hot yoga instructor is taking me to his mountain cabin for the weekend." He winks. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Is there anything you wouldn't do?" Maggie asks.

"No darling, that's what makes me so fun." He grabs his rolling carry on and sashays toward the door, then turns back. "Oh, and Grayson? Take care of my girl. She deserves someone who sees her worth."

The door closes behind him, leaving us alone with possibilities I've been trying not to think about.

The silence between us stretches, thick and unspoken. I sit a little too still on the couch, watching her breathe, watching her fight not to fall apart again.

“So…” Maggie finally says, voice soft. “Fake fiancés.”

“Yeah.” I try to keep it light. “Romantic, huh?”

She gives a weak laugh, then curls her legs up underneath her, tugging the robe tighter across her chest. “Do we need a plan? What will we tell people?”

I nod, shifting to face her. “We can use what your family already knows: I live in Vegas, I play for the Vipers—pretty convenient, actually. Last trip you came, we went to dinner and a show, I fell more in love with you wearing that smoking red dress…”

“And this time I came, watched your game, and you proposed.”

“Exactly.”

“But… the name…”

“I’ll go by Grayson Kyle Prescott on day one—then I’ll go drown in the ocean.”

“You don’t know how to swim?”

“I’ll forget.”

She laughs. Then, her voice goes soft, like she didn’t expect me to remember. “So… my red dress, huh?”

“How could I forget?” I confess. Maybe it’s time for honesty. She needs honesty now. “Truth is, the moment I saw you, my heart stopped.”

She looks at me for a long moment but says nothing.

“I didn’t know Kyle that well, but I had a feeling he was an asshole. If I’d had half a spine back then, I would’ve made a move before he ever had the chance to break your heart.”

"Thank you. It wasn’t that you lacked spine—he was your teammate, and I was his girl..." She pauses. "But I didn’t know you ever noticed me like that."

“I noticed everything. The way you lit up when you talked about computers. The way you laughed, or touched your hair. Or hummed during the cab ride. Your joy of life. I remember thinking, ‘This girl’s gonna make someone really fucking lucky.’ And I just hated that it wasn’t me.”

Silence again. This time heavier. Her lashes flutter, and for a second I think she might cry again.

But instead, she whispers, “Say that again.”

“What?”

“That I’m extraordinary. That I deserve better.”

I slide closer, slowly, so she can stop me if she wants. “You are. You do. You always have. He couldn’t see it, and that’s on him. He didn’t lose you because of Lenora or any other woman. He lost you the second he treated you like something disposable.”

Her eyes glisten. “Grayson…”

“I’m not him,” I say softly. “If you need someone to help you hurt less tonight, I’m here. Even if it’s just to hold you.”

Her voice cracks. “I’d really like that.”

She shifts, crawling into my lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like we’ve done this a thousand times. I wrap my arms around her, and she melts into my chest with a trembling sigh.

I rest my chin on top of her head and stroke her back slowly, gently. She smells like lavender shampoo and salt. Her hair’s still a little damp.

Her breathing deepens. Slows.

I don’t say anything when my fingers drift up into her hair. I just thread through the strands, rubbing small circles against her scalp, and something changes in the way she presses against me. Softer. Needier.

Her lips brush my neck. Not quite a kiss. More like a question.

“Mags…”

She pulls back just enough to look at me. “I’m not broken.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to use you.”

“You’re not.”

“I just… I want to feel something that doesn’t hurt.”

My chest tightens. I cup her jaw. “Then let me help you forget.”

She surges forward and kisses me—hungry and messy and real. We’re not pretending. We’re unraveling.

My hands dive into her robe, shoving the silk aside until I’m touching her bare skin. Warm, soft, mine. She gasps as I cup her tits, thumbs brushing her nipples until they pebble beneath my touch. Her whole body arches into me like she’s been starving for this. For me.

“I need you,” she whispers, voice wrecked.

I grip the back of her neck, breathing her in. “You have no fucking idea how long I’ve waited to hear that.”

I scoop her into my arms, her robe falling completely open, her skin against my chest like fuel on an open flame. I carry her to the bedroom and lay her down like she’s something precious—but I’m already shaking with how badly I need to tear her apart.

She watches me rip off my shirt, eyes locked on mine, no hesitation. No fear. Just that same fire I’ve seen in my dreams.

When I crawl over her, the robe’s slipped down to her waist, and she’s laid out in front of me like a fucking fantasy. Like everything I’ve ever wanted and never thought I’d get.

“Still want this?” I ask, voice thick, body tense from holding back.

Her lips part. “I want all of you.”

I groan—because fuck, those words hit too deep—and kiss her hard. She kisses back harder. I grab her wrists and pin them above her head, pressing our bodies together. My cock’s rock hard and throbbing against her thigh, and when she grinds up against me, I nearly lose it.

“You don’t have to hold back anymore,” she whispers.

Jesus.

I let her wrists go and slide down her body, kissing, biting, tasting every inch. Her nipples go tight under my tongue and I suck them until she’s whimpering, clutching the sheets. I keep going—down her stomach, down to that wet, aching heat between her thighs.

She spreads for me like she belongs to me.

“Grayson…” she gasps, hips lifting when I drag my tongue through her slit.

Fuck, she’s soaked. I groan into her pussy, tongue working her clit slow and deep, then fast and greedy when she starts to tremble. She moans my name like a goddamn prayer, grinding into my face, grabbing my hair as I eat her like it’s my job. Like she’s the reward for all the time I stayed silent.

She comes hard, shattering under me, legs tightening around my shoulders as she cries out.

I don’t stop. Not until she’s panting, twitching, whispering my name like she’s forgotten anyone else ever existed.

Then I move back up her body, kissing her, letting her taste herself on my tongue.

Her hands fly to my jeans, fumbling the button.

“You sure?” I rasp, holding her gaze.

“Absolutely.”

Fuck. That breaks me.

I push inside her slow, deep, inch by inch, watching her stretch around me, her mouth falling open as her legs wrap tight around my hips.

I swear. I whisper her name. I almost lose it right there.

She clings to me, pulling me closer, locking her ankles at my lower back like she’s afraid I’ll vanish. I thrust deep and slow, and every time she moans, I fall harder.

She’s not just letting me fuck her—she’s letting me see her. Feel her. Claim her.

And I do.

I fuck her like I’ve wanted to for months. Like I can imprint this moment in both our bodies. Deep, steady, rolling thrusts that have her gasping, clenching, whispering broken things against my neck.

“I always wondered,” she breathes, nails digging into my back. “If you’d feel like this…”

“I’ve always known,” I growl, thrusting harder. “You were it for me.”

Our bodies move in sync, slick and breathless and desperate, her tits bouncing with every thrust, her eyes locked on mine like I’m the only thing anchoring her to this planet.

And maybe I am. Because she’s sure as hell doing that for me.

She tightens again, clawing at my shoulders. “Grayson—I’m—”

“Let go for me, baby.”

She comes with a strangled moan, spasming around my cock so hard I lose control and slam into her faster, deeper, chasing my own release like a man possessed.

I spill inside her with a shout, burying my face in her neck, trembling with it. It’s not just an orgasm—it’s a goddamn flood of everything I’ve felt and buried and denied.

She holds me through it. Kisses the side of my head. Wraps herself around me like she’s scared I’ll leave.

I’m not going anywhere.

Not now.

Actually, not ever.

We fall apart together, her name on my lips, mine on hers.

After, I pull her against me, heart still racing, her head resting over it.

She draws lazy circles on my chest.

After a while, she breaks the silence. “I don’t know how much I cried of sadness—or of anger. I wanted to punch him, you know? The asshole. I was always excusing him because I wanted to see the good in him, but hindsight is 20/20 and he really was an asshole all along.”

“The biggest asshole ever.”

“You said earlier you should have spoken up before he had a chance to break my heart…”

“I did.”

“But I want you to know that he didn’t break my heart,” she says. “He just made me doubt I had one left.”

Fuck.

She looks up. “But you make me feel like I’m still in there. Still… alive.”

I kiss her slowly, reverently. “You are. And I see all of you.”

“I always liked you Grayson. I always saw you were different. I just would have never been disloyal to Kyle.”

“Like I said, he didn;t deserve you.”

“And you do?”

“Give me the chance and you’ll be able to find out for yourself.”

“By being my fake fiance?”

“That’s a start.”

“But really, what are we doing?”

“Right now? Holding each other.”

“And tomorrow?”

“We pretend to be in love.”

She looks up. “But tonight…”

“I’m not faking anything.”

She kisses my shoulder and sighs. “Whatever this is… it feels good.”

I hold her tighter. “Then let’s not ruin it.”

We’ll figure it out in the morning.

Right now, this is everything.