Page 128 of Peaches & Pistols

Holy hell. He’s going to kill me with his dirty talk.

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re going to table the cowboy talk in favor of me getting inside your cunt.”

The flannel goes flying along with his undershirt. Boots are toed off, and socks removed. As soon as he unbuttons his jeans, his cock bobs behind his boxer briefs, a wet spot of pre-cum seeping from the head of his cock.

“Yes please.” My fingers itch to scratch down his chest through the soft hair and scrape against his nipples.

The boxer briefs are the last to go and like every time Greyson undresses while he’s hard, my jaw drops at the sight of his thick, heavy cock.

“What do you want, Mia?” he growls, kneeling between my parted legs.

He expects me to say I want him, or I want him to fuck me—but I’ve been reading a lot of the books Delilah and Izzy share with me, and I want to try dirty talking, myself.

“I want you to stroke your cock while I talk.” His eyebrows bounce, but his hand wraps around his cock moving up and down in a twisting motion.

“Touch me with your other hand,” he complies immediately, running his warm hand up the inside of my thigh, his thumb slipping up and down my slit.

“I want you to manhandle me so rough I have fingerprint-bruises tomorrow. I want you to flip me over and force me onto my knees, holding my hands behind my back, with my face against the blankets.”

Greyson’s nostrils flare, pupils blown and chest heaves as he squeezes his cock. His fingers dig harder into my thigh and dip deeper into my slit with each pass.

“I want you to fuck me from behind so deep you bottom out. I want your fat cock to stretch me wide and pound into me so hard I feel you inside me tomorrow.”

My increasingly dirty requests have Greyson coming apart at the seams. Our eyes meet through the lusty haze, his having been roving over my naked body with greed and salacious intentions.

“I want you to fill me with your cum. I want you dripping from my used hole, spilling out when you slide out of my pussy. That’s what I want,” I finish, knowing full well I broke him.

“For the love of god, Mia. You’re going to send me to an early grave with a mouth like that. You have no idea how bad I want to fuck the life out of you, consume you. I’ll give you anything you want, honey. Are you ready for how intense this is going to be? Emotionally?”

I fall more in love with this man every day from moments just like this.

“I’m ready. And if I falter, you’re here to hold me up and help me through.”

Hand still wrapped around his hard dick, I’m out of my mind with how badly I need him inside me. Greyson nods, thinking everything over one more time.

I’m asking him to give me back my power. Anytime I was forced or held down by my ex, I felt weak, ashamed, and worthless. I’m asking Greyson to dominate my body in a way I feel safe, sexy, and powerful.

And he does.

Three times.

43

It’s my wedding day.

That’s something I never thought I’d say again. When I married my ex, his mother planned everything, and my role was to do exactly as I was told and not embarrass their family.

My dress was a stark white taffeta ballgown that crinkled and swished with every move I made. His mother complained at the noise I couldn’t control, in the dress she chose.

She hated my wavy hair, and had it pinned and sprayed into an updo that gave me a terrible headache. The makeup artist made me look like a completely different person—which I suppose was the goal, considering I’m not who his mother would’ve chosen for her son.

My shoes literally drew blood, something I also got reprimanded for. How dare blood leave the open wound on my foot caused by the too small, fake-gem encrusted strappy heels she insisted upon.

The ceremony was in a church I’d never set foot in before, but made their family look a certain kind of way. We were rushed to “The Hawthorne,” the country club they couldn’t afford to join, and I was dragged and shoved all across the club during the reception shaking hands with vapid people I hoped to never meet again.

They forgot about me at one point, and I hid in the vestibule until my ex furiously came to collect me by wrenching my arm so hard my shoulder nearly dislocated. Sadly, that was far from the most painful thing I endured that night.