Chapter 178

Moving Cecilia’s mother in was a nice change of pace. Momentarily, she lifted the mood around the mansion with her baked goods and her motherly habits. But it wasn’t long before Grayson was losing himself again to the childhood memories of Asher and the fear of what life might be like one day without him.

School wasn’t easy for Grayson. He was an Alpha, sure. He lived the easy, complex life all Alphas lived, but he was not quite the same as the other boys at his boarding school. His mother used to call him a late bloomer, but Grayson swore all his life he had some sort of complex deficiency—something that kept him from growing as quickly as the others. Even at his ripe age of twenty-five, he was still physically smaller than most men. Not quite short, but slender. Whimpy, Asher would call him.

Things were worse back before he filled out with moderate muscle. He used to be chased down after school, cornered in an alley and pummeled by a group of five men who hated him for his riches and his talent. They were tired of Grayson always ranking at the top of test scores, always stealing solos in orchestra, always accepting awards in front of the entire school.

He hated life until Asher came around.

It was funny how they met. Asher with his broody, angry, shitty attitude had chosen one day to approach Grayson. He had been sitting all alone in the cafeteria, simply trying to avoid anyone and everyone. Sink into the shadows—invisible like a ghost. That was his mantra. And the day Asher came up to him with a blunt, “Hey. Move over.” Grayson thought for sure that he was simply staring into the face of another bully. He was tired of it—tired of being pushed around and walked on. For the first time, he decided to defend himself.

He stood up and threw a punch, one that clipped Asher in the jaw and sent a shock through Grayson’s fist. In the end, Asher seemed completely unfazed and Grayson was left with a broken finger. Weirdly enough, Asher wasn’t angry—didn’t fight him back. Just laughed about how pathetic his punch was and walked Grayson to the nurse’s office.

He never understood what it was about him that seemed to stick to Asher, but from that moment on, they were stuck to one another. Attached at the hips.

He found himself in Asher’s empty room, staring at his bed. He had ordered the housekeepers to stay out of Asher’s room, and as such, his bed was still undone. A shirt laid rumpled on the floor from the evening they’d taken off to the city. Bella was curled up on his sheets, her ears twitching as she slept.

Grayson took a seat on the edge of the bed and stroked her fur. “You must be so confused…” he muttered to her. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back…probably.”

But the thought sent a crack through Grayson’s heart and he hunched over, slumping into his hands. He hated to cry—it made him feel weaker than he already was. He might’ve grown, might’ve built up some muscle and gained some height, but he still felt like such a child. And with Asher gone, he was lost.

He couldn’t stand it. He snatched a bottle of scotch from Asher’s minibar and stalked off to Cecilia’s room.

It was late and he was soundly asleep when he entered, but he didn’t care. He tossed back a swig of the stuff and looked down at her sleeping shape. She slept like an angel. She didn’t wake when he pulled down the sheets, finding her in nothing but her panties. They were pink, silken—the kind that showed every curve of the sweet shape beneath. He tossed back another swig for strength, just in case she rejected him. Then Grayson climbed slowly onto the bed.

She didn’t wake, even as he crouched over her—as the bed sunk a little. And she didn’t wake as he traced his fingers feather-light up her thigh. Between her legs.

Cecilia only began to stir when he traced it—the silk of her panties. The warm, slight rise of her lips beneath.

She opened her eyes, taking in his face. She made a slight, tired sound, but didn’t question why he was there. She just parted her legs slightly and shut her eyes, feeling his fingers as they teased her, light as a feather. Her plump lips parted with a pleasant little sound, but Grayson couldn’t wait any longer. He was throbbing for her—hungry for such a perfect distraction.

He pulled her panties aside and drew himself from his sweats, stroking himself at the sight of her. He placed himself up against the familiar warmth of her, and as he pushed in, Cecilia ached her spine with a gasp.

Her mother was only a few rooms down and Grayson was worried that with all the silence of the mansion, she would hear. He clasped a hand over Cecilia’s mouth and hushed her lowly in her ear. When he was certain she wouldn’t expose them again, he pulled his hand from her mouth and moved slowly in and out again.

Cecilia’s jaw dropped, but she held all the sounds inside of her. “Oh,” she whispered, finding his lips in the dark. “You feel so good.”

Grayson smiled against her lips and pressed a slow kiss to them, holding onto her hips as he rolled his hips slowly against her. She melted beneath him, her head tilting back, a soft moan escaping her. Grayson couldn’t contain the lust in him when he took in her silhouette. Her large breasts, her beautiful neck, her thighs which he had taken into his hands and squeezed in the midst of his desire. She was tight around him—the kind of tight that forced him to slow suddenly, so he wouldn’t finish too fast. It had been a while since they’d been together—he didn’t have the strength anymore.

He drew out to slow the pace and Cecilia gave a soft whimper. “No…don’t stop.”

Grayson gave a small laugh at the look of desperation on her face. He pried her wet panties down her thighs and dropped them to the ground. “You’re too much for me sometimes.”

“Then let me take over.”

He hadn’t realized anyone had come in—not until he turned to the sight of Ryan, casting his shirt aside. There was something in the expression on his face—something beyond lust. It seemed he needed a distraction, too. Grayson wiped the sweat from his forehead, feeling that pining shoot through him. He was pulsing with every heartbeat, too hot to contain himself anymore. He needed a breath.

“Go easy on her,” he told Ryan. “Don’t want Maria to hear.”

Ryan disregarded him. He came closer, a visible lump in his sweats. “No,” he said in response. Then he clasped Cecilia under the knees and jerked her suddenly toward the foot of the bed. She gasped, the sheets bunching up beneath her—but if anything, it seemed to only arouse her more. She reached between her parted legs and spread herself apart for him, a heat blistering her cheeks. And with her other hand, she reached blindly for Grayson, grasping him in her fingers. He let out a haughty breath as she stroked him, watching Ryan draw out his sizable number.

He tried not to feel too wounded at the size comparison. Cecilia had fit so tightly around him—he couldn’t imagine how she felt to someone like Ryan. And he couldn’t deny he loved the sight of it as Ryan entered her—as her body jerked suddenly, and she opened her mouth to let out a sound.

Grayson managed to clasp a hand over her lips before she could cry out—the sound muffled against his palm. Ryan started slow—pushing just a few inches at a time. Daring her to let him in. And at his final push, Grayson held her under the jaw and kissed her, letting her cries melt against his lips. When he pulled back, she was looking up at him—her brows furrowed, an expression of pain and pleasure. Of discomfort and desire. She reached for him, clawing at his hips, and As Grayson came closer, he was not prepared to feel her mouth suddenly wrap around him. To feel the heat of her tongue against his tip, whirling and sucking and moaning against him.

He let out a slight grunt and tilted his head back, clasping roughly at her breasts. He watched them move a as Ryan began to push into her—slow thrusts, but enough to send her breasts bouncing. God, he was going to implode. Everything about her was destroying him so easily.

She was a drug.

And he was starting to like the concept of sharing her.