Page 34 of The Tower (Billionaire Brothers Grimm #1)

Twenty-Four

Payment

L iam pulled off the headset, feeling slightly smug as he looked at the screen where Prince Killiam still stood, abandoned mid-seduction.

Vale had turned away from him—the prince and the fantasy.

Sasha had turned away.

It wasn’t what she’d said to the prince that had Liam’s cock tightening—she hadn’t said much at all.

Just that she needed to go. It was how she’d acted—the hesitation when Killiam had reached for her, the way she’d pulled back from his touch.

The longing in her eyes just before she’d logged out, a yearning for something the prince couldn’t give her.

He knew what she wanted—to be fucked properly by a man whose hard edges she could feel. Who could pound inside her. Who could take her to all those dark places and make her scream.

She didn’t want Killiam—a sanitized fantasy that wore Liam’s face—she wanted the real deal. Him. Liam Grimm.

And, oh hell yes, he was more than happy to oblige.

He slammed down the lid on his laptop with a decisive click, tossed it to the foot of the bed, then headed toward the yellow room, wearing nothing but the sweats he’d changed into after seeing Dr. Chen out.

He imagined her standing at the foot of Maya’s bed, pacing as she tried to work up the courage to come to the master bedroom and claim what she craved.

Or maybe he’d find her naked on the comforter, her legs spread, and her eyes closed as she tried to bury that desire—that burning, physical need for him that she didn’t want to admit, even to herself.

Impossibly, the image made him even harder, and he moved down the hall to her room like a predator to wounded prey, knowing that victory was assured.

He didn’t even pause when he reached her door, just turned the handle and let himself in without knocking.

The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a bedside lamp.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, the Elysium equipment discarded beside her, her hair falling around her face like a curtain of gold.

She looked up at his entrance, surprise flickering across her features before something else replaced it—something heated and complicated.

“I told you I wanted to be alone,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. She’d changed into a white terry-cloth robe, and now she cinched it tighter at her waist.

“That’s what you said.” He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. “It’s not what you want.”

Her eyes tracked his movement as he approached, her body tensing slightly. “The hell it’s not,” she said, but there was no conviction in her voice.

He stopped a few feet away from her. “Look at me.”

She obeyed, tilting her face up to his, her pale skin now flushed pink, her lips slightly parted. And though it was probably only his imagination, he was certain he could smell her desire.

His cock strained against his sweats, and he clocked the moment her eyes dipped to that telltale bulge.

“What are you doing?” she asked, even though she could surely see the answer for herself.

“We had an agreement,” he said. “I’m taking payment.”

“Oh.” She sat perfectly still. Didn’t try to scoot away. Didn’t beg him to leave her alone after her stressful day. Instead, all she said was, “How?”

He wanted to laugh, loving the way she always surprised him. “By giving you exactly what you want.”

Her cheeks bloomed even pinker, the flush extending down to the hint of cleavage revealed by the robe.

Her eyes dipped to his crotch. “And what is it I want?”

“What I should have done hours ago.” He moved closer, until his toes brushed the dust ruffle on the bed, and he was standing between her thighs.

He saw her throat move as she swallowed. “Oh. What should–?”

He didn’t bother answering, just pulled her up with a speed that made her gasp, one hand tangling in her hair as he claimed her mouth in a kiss that was damn sure more intense than anything she’d felt in Elysium.

This was raw. Demanding. Real.

Her moan of pleasure went straight to his cock, and when her arms slid around his neck and she arched against him, it was all he could do not to come right then.

There was no hesitation in her, no caution. Only a hunger that matched his own, desire burning as hot and bright as a newly forged blade.

He pushed her back onto the bed, following her down, his weight pinning her to the mattress. His hands were everywhere—tangled in her hair, skimming down her sides, opening the robe so he could feel the heat of her skin.

She gasped when he dragged his teeth over her breast, and the sound sent a surge of primal satisfaction arrowing straight to his cock. This was what he wanted—what he needed. Her response. Her desire. Her surrender to him. To his every whim, his every pleasure.

Everything.

She was his to take, to claim, to use. The princess he’d craved for so long was truly his—no longer torn between him and a version borne of pixels and code.

He sat up, straddling her, wanting to watch her face as he touched her. Claimed her.

Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her lips swollen from his kisses, her breathing rapid and shallow.

He twisted a strand of that magnificent hair around his finger.

“So beautiful,” he whispered. Not just her golden tresses, but her.

Sasha. She was stunning, incredible. Not the carefully curated beauty her father had demanded, but something wilder, more primal. Something real.

“Beg for it,” he demanded, his voice rough with need, his cock hard against his sweats as his thighs held her hips in place. “Beg for what you want.”

“Fuck me,” she whispered. “Please, please, fuck me.”

“Is that any way for a pretty little princess to talk?”

Fire lit her eyes, and she pushed herself up on one elbow, then slapped his face.

And there it was.

His cheek stung like fire, but he still had to fight his smile. This wasn’t Reed’s little princess playing another role because she had to. This was a woman who craved him.

“Say it again,” he demanded. “Tell me what you want.”

“You,” she said. “Inside me.” One hand twined in his hair, pulling him down to her. The other shoved at the waistband of his sweats, pushing them down just enough to free his cock.

For a moment he considered fucking her mouth, watching as she took him all the way in, then coming all over that beautiful face.

But no. That was for another time. This was a claiming. The exorcising of her prince. He was her goddamn king now.

And with that, his fingers dipped into her slick heat, opening her up.

He rubbed the head of his cock over her clit, growing harder as she writhed and begged.

Then he thrust himself balls-deep into her slick little cunt, the air filling with her cry, that delicious sound of pain mixing with pleasure.

He rode her, memorizing the way she looked as pleasure built. The way her lower lip trembled when he hit those sweet spots, the whispers of please and yes, along with her screams of oh, god, and harder .

He took her close, right to the precipice, then slowed down, pulled out, and smiled when she begged him not to stop.

"Not stopping," he said. "Just a little friendly sexual torment."

"Bastard."

"As a matter of fact, I am," he said, making her laugh.

It was too damn easy being with this woman.

And that made her dangerous. He wasn't a man who committed.

He wasn't even a man who dated. He was a man who fucked when he wanted.

A man more than willing to trade sex for what he needed.

He was a bastard by all definitions of the term.

And Sasha Reed—with her vulnerability and fire—was becoming something more than a bargaining chip or revenge tool.

That hadn't been part of the plan.

For a moment, he considered pulling back. Telling her the deal had changed. That they'd still take down her father, but he needed distance. Space. Clarity.

But the thought of another man touching her, seeing her like this—flushed and wanting—made something primal and possessive roar to life inside him. She was his now. His to claim. His to mark. His to ruin for anyone else who might come after.

Besides, Sasha had already agreed to every perverse, wicked, sensual desire. And if he had one hard-and-fast code, it was that a deal was a deal was a deal.

More than that, he wanted her with an intensity that scared even him. Wanted to possess her completely. To own every gasp, every cry, every surrender.

And he always took what he wanted.