Page 35 of The Tower (Billionaire Brothers Grimm #1)

Twenty-Five

Surrender

“ T ell me exactly what you want, Princess,” he demands, his voice rough with desire as he hovers over me. “Every filthy detail.”

Not long ago, I would have blushed and looked away. But I'm not that sheltered girl anymore. “I want your cock inside me,” I tell him without hesitation, my voice husky with need. “I want you to fuck me until I can't remember my own name.”

Heat pulses between my legs, an insistent throb that makes me press my thighs together, desperate for friction, for pressure, for him. My skin feels electric, hypersensitive, every inch of me yearning for his touch.

For a moment he simply looks down at me.

Then something breaks in his expression, that careful control he wears like armor shattering as he captures my mouth with his.

The kiss is bruising, demanding, claiming, and I open for him instantly, desperate for more.

My hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as his weight shifts, pressing me deeper into the mattress.

My body burns everywhere his skin touches mine, a delicious fire spreading through me. I arch against him, my breasts crushed against the hard plane of his chest, the sensation making my pussy clench, as if begging to join this party.

"So fucking sexy," he murmurs against my throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin hard enough to mark me.

"Please," I gasp as his hand slides inside my robe, my skin tingling in the wake of his touch. My back arches of its own accord, my body offering itself to him, begging for more contact.

"Please what?" His voice drops an octave, rough with desire.

"Touch me," I demand, beyond caring about pride or power games. "Fuck me. I told you already. I need your hands on me. Your cock inside me.”

“Greedy little princess, aren’t you?”

“God, yes.”

With one smooth motion, he pushes my robe open, exposing me completely. I feel my skin flush with heat as his eyes devour me, his expression hungry in a way that makes my core clench even tighter in anticipation.

"So beautiful," he says, his voice reverent despite the darkness in his eyes. "Every fucking time, you take my breath away."

His thumb brushes the underside of my breast in a teasing stroke that makes me squirm beneath him. Then his mouth is there, hot and wet, drawing my nipple deep as his fingers toy with the other. I arch into the contact, electricity shooting from my nipples straight to my core.

I dig my fingers into his shoulders, already desperate for more.

“Liam,” I gasp, his name a plea and a prayer. “Please.”

His hand slides lower, over my stomach, tracing the curve of my hip before finding the heat between my legs.

“Always so wet for me,” he says with satisfaction, his fingers parting my folds to circle my clit with precise pressure. “A guy might think you want something.”

“A guy would be right.” I have to push the words out past the waves of pleasure breaking over me.

“Tell me,” he demands. “You don’t get it if you don’t say it.”

I want to scream that I’ve already said it, over and over. But I don’t. I can’t. All I know right now is need. Want. Greed. And this man whose finger on my clit has already sent me halfway to heaven.

My hips buck against his hand involuntarily, seeking more contact. “Inside,” I beg. “I need you inside me. I need you fucking me.”

“How?”

“Hard,” I say. “Deep.” I gasp, my body arching in a delicious precursor of the main event.

He slides one finger into me, then another, stroking that spot inside that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. My thighs fall open wider, giving him better access as my body responds to his skilled touch.

“Like this?” he asks, his fingers curling inside me, his thumb circling my clit with relentless pressure.

“Yes,” I gasp, my body clenching around his fingers.

“Anything else you want, Princess?”

He’s teasing me, but I’m too close to care. I want what he’s offering. The rush. The release. And I want it with him. “Your cock,” I say. “Please. Please, fuck me.”

His eyes darken with desire. “So greedy,” he murmurs. “Always wanting more.”

“Only from you,” I whisper, the truth of it striking deep.

He shifts down my body, his mouth trailing kisses across my stomach, over my hipbones, down to the insides of my thighs.

“I need to taste your cunt first,” he says, voice rough with hunger. “Need to know exactly how wet you are for me.”

The first stroke of his tongue against my clit has me crying out, my hands clenching in his hair, pulling him closer.

He groans against me, the vibration adding another layer to the pleasure building inside me.

My thighs shake on either side of his head, my back arching off the bed as he devours me with the same intensity he brings to everything.

“Liam,” I gasp, my hips moving against his mouth. “Oh god, Liam …”

His fingers dig into my thighs, keeping me open to his assault. I’m trembling, tettering on the edge of something massive, something that feels different from the other times he’s brought me to this precipice.

“Come for me,” he commands, his voice vibrating through my core. “Let me taste you, Sasha.”

The last of my restraint shatters, my body convulsing as pleasure crashes through me in waves. He doesn’t let up, his mouth working me through every tremor, every aftershock, until I’m whimpering from the intensity.

Only then does he raise his head, his eyes dark with need. “Now,” he says, rising to strip off his own clothes. “I’m going to fuck you exactly the way you begged me to.”

Naked, he’s magnificent—all lean muscle and controlled power. His cock juts proud and thick, and my pussy clenches at the sight. He covers me again, the weight of him both terrifying and comforting.

“I’ve been aching for this,” he says, positioning himself at my entrance. “I’ve been dreaming about burying myself in this tight cunt all day.”

He pushes forward, stretching me, filling me in a slow, inexorable slide that steals the breath from my lungs. My body yields to him, adjusting to his size, the initial burn giving way to pleasure.

When he’s fully inside me, he pauses, forehead pressed to mine, breath mingling with my own.

“You feel incredible,” he murmurs, his voice strained with the effort of holding still. “So perfect around my cock.” He meets my eyes. “So perfect.”

“Yes,” I whisper. “Perfect.”

Then he begins to move, withdrawing almost completely before thrusting back in a rhythm that quickly builds from controlled to desperate.

Each stroke hits that perfect spot inside me, building the pleasure again.

My breasts bounce with the force of his thrusts, my skin slick with sweat, every cell in my body focused on the point where we’re joined, on the rising journey that will send us tumbling over the precipice.

“Mine,” he growls, his fingers tangling in my hair, tilting my head back to expose my throat to his mouth. “Say it.”

“Yours,” I gasp, the word torn from me as he drives into me harder. “I’m yours, Liam.”

The admission feels different this time. Not just the words he demands during sex, but a truth I can’t escape.

He must sense the shift because his expression changes, softens even as his body continues its relentless claiming of mine. He kisses me then, deep and thorough, his tongue mimicking the movement of his cock.

“I want to feel you come around me,” he says against my lips. “Want to feel you squeeze me tight while I fill you.”

His hand slides between us, finding my clit, and that’s all it takes to send me plummeting over the edge again. I cry out his name as pleasure crashes through me, my body clenching around him in rhythmic pulses.

He follows a moment later, his rhythm faltering as he drives deep one final time. I feel the heat of his release inside me, marking me as his in the most primal way possible.

For a moment, we’re both still, joined and panting. Then something shifts in his expression—a shuttering, a retreat. He pulls away, separating our bodies with an abruptness that leaves me cold despite the flush of satisfied heat still warming my skin.

He stands, all lean muscle and sinew, but it’s the distance in his eyes that sends a sense of foreboding tumbling through me. The connection that burned so hot just moments ago now feels fragile, as if he’s already miles away.

“Get some sleep,” he says, his voice casual, detached. None of the intensity from moments ago remains. “You’ll need it.”

I blink, confused by the sudden shift. “Liam?—”

“We have work to do tomorrow,” he cuts me off, already gathering his clothes. “Plans to make.”

There’s something deliberate in how he’s not looking at me now, how he’s pulling his mask back on—that cold, calculating expression I saw when we first made our deal.

He pauses at the door, finally glancing back at me, still sprawled naked and disheveled on the bed. Something flashes in his eyes—hunger, possession, I don’t know. And before I can figure it out, he’s locked it away.

“Don’t get too comfortable with this, Princess,” he says, his voice deceptively soft. “I decide when. I decide how. Remember that.”

Then he’s gone, shutting the door behind him, leaving me alone with the cooling sheets and the lingering scent of sex in the air.

I stare at the ceiling, trying to make sense of what just happened. How can something that felt so real, so raw and true, turn cold so quickly? I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling every inch of the space he’s put between us.

Whatever this is between us—whatever we’re becoming—it’s clearly scaring him as much as it scares me. But he gets to back away. To toss up walls.

Me? I’m trapped by our deal. By my need for his protection.

And by the growing, terrifying feeling that despite everything, I want more from Liam Grimm than just safety.

I want all of him.

And that’s the most dangerous desire of all.