Shattered Asylum

Chapter 84

We did it four times. Four different spots. Each one rougher, deeper, hotter than the last.

It started on the couch. No words. Just heat. Just the way his mouth found mine like he hadn't tasted me in years instead of days. His body caged mine in, his weight grounding, hands sliding up my sides like he couldn't get close enough.

His shirt stayed on, thin fabric stretched tight across his back as he pinned me there, breath hot against my throat. My legs wrapped around him on instinct, desperate to pull him in deeper, closer, harder.

The ache had been building for days, and now it poured out of us all at once, seven days of restraint snapping in a single, breathless second.

Clothes ended up scattered across the floor, mine first, then his. The air smelled like heat, skin, and something sweet we'd both been denying. The leather of the couch squeaked beneath us, but we didn't care. It wasn't slow. It wasn't gentle. It was hunger. It was him claiming every inch of me like he already missed it.

By the time he stilled, buried deep inside me, forehead pressed to mine and both of us shaking, we weren't even close to finished.

The couch wasn't enough. Not for either of us.

I was still catching my breath when he lifted me onto the kitchen counter like I weighed nothing, hands sliding up my thighs with quiet urgency, like he needed to feel everything at once. The cool granite made me shiver, but his hands were already warming every part of me they touched.

He didn't say a word. Just dragged his mouth down my neck, down my chest, until I was arching into him, one hand braced on the cabinet, the other knotted in his hair. His control was unraveling, but not completely. He was still calling the shots, still moving me exactly how he wanted, holding me in place when I got too greedy.

My knees locked around his waist, and I swear, he let out this low, ragged sound. Half groan, half whimper, like the pleasure hit too fast, too hard. Then he gave it to me. All of him. One sharp thrust that had me gasping his name like a warning. Like a plea.

It wasn't soft anymore. It was sweat and teeth and the slap of skin on skin, echoing off the tile like something obscene. One hand tangled in my hair, the other gripping my hip hard enough I'd wear the bruises for days. And I wanted them. Every single one.

He didn't stop until my legs were trembling and I couldn't even beg properly anymore. Just sounds. Just the word please, over and over, though I didn't even know what I was asking for anymore.

Still, we weren't done.

We didn't even make it halfway up the stairs.

There was no stopping it, not after the way he looked at me, like he'd die if he had to wait another second. Grayson's hands were on me before I could catch my breath, spinning me into the wall just outside his parents' bedroom door.

I should've told him to wait. Should've reminded him where we were. But there was no room for reason, not with the way he was touching me, like he didn't care if the world ended right there.

"Shit, Aven," he groaned, voice already wrecked. His mouth found my neck, dragging down with a heat that stole the strength from my legs. "I can't wait. I need you."

His hands were rough, desperate, one fisting my hair, the other skating over my bare skin like he had to memorize every inch. The air was thick around us, hot with steam from our skin, with tension. With want.

I melted into him, whimpering when his teeth grazed my collarbone, my back arching off the door as his hips pinned me there. There were no words, just that frantic energy, his body against mine, the friction, the fire.