Chapter 117

Ava’s POV

I shut that thought out. My hands clawed at his shirt, tearing the fabric. There was nothing gentle about it—my nails scraped harshly, and he seemed to understand. Without breaking his rhythm, he ripped the shirt from his body, exposing taut muscles. I didn’t pause to admire him. Frustration, anger, and the undeniable pull between us made everything else irrelevant.

He was relentless; his thrusts a steady, punishing rhythm that drove me mad. I was out of control, making him even more dangerous. He didn’t allow me space to breathe or think; his presence was a suffocating, overwhelming force, and I couldn’t escape it—not that I wanted to.

His hands gripped me tighter, pulling me closer, his body solid against mine. I felt the heat of his skin, the intensity of every movement. His ragged breath hit my ear as he whispered, “Stop trying to fight me, Ava.”

I wanted to argue, to lash out, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I clenched around him. The growl rumbling in his chest told me he noticed. His hand found my hair, tugging it back to expose my neck. I felt his desperation building, that sharp edge to his control starting to crack.

“You think you can keep pushing me like this?” His voice was low, dark, almost a warning.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My body betrayed me, responding in a way that made no sense. Every part screamed for more, even as I knew I should be pulling away, fighting for control.

His grip on my hair tightened, pulling me further into him. He changed the angle, driving deeper, harder. The air around us crackled with raw energy.

I was lost in the moment, my senses consumed by him, by the roughness, the force of his movements. I felt him everywhere—his hands, his body, his voice in my ear telling me exactly what he wanted.

“Say my name, Ava,” he demanded. The command stirred something deep within me. “Say it, or I won’t stop.”

I wanted to defy him, to ignore his demand, but the urgency and possessiveness in his voice made my body betray my mind.

“Grayson,” I gasped, barely able to breathe as he kept me pinned, his movements never slowing.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear. His thrusts increased in intensity, brutal and unrelenting. The sound of skin slapping against skin, the sharp rhythm of our bodies moving together, filled the room. My heart raced, my breath shallow, and every time I tried to hold back, he pushed harder, forcing me to feel everything.

“You want to make me lose control?” he growled.

I didn’t respond. Instead, I arched my back, pushing against him, needing more. His hand slipped to my waist, gripping me with a possessive force that made my knees buckle, but I didn’t care.

I was too lost in him, in the heat, in the hunger.

Without warning, he turned me around, forcing me to face the wall. His chest pressed against my back, his breath hot against my neck. My hands braced against the cool surface, but it did little to steady me as he positioned himself behind me, his movements swift and decisive.

The change in position surprised me, and the sudden shock of him thrusting into me from behind was overwhelming.

My breath hitched as his grip on my hips tightened, and the force of his movements had me gasping. His body was like a steel trap—unforgiving, powerful. I felt every inch of him, every hard push, every forceful drive that brought me to the edge.

His hands moved to my hair again, pulling it tight. I gasped as he held me in place, moving with relentless precision.

“Watch me,” he demanded, his voice low, almost a command. “Look at what I’m doing to you.”

I didn’t want to look, didn’t want to give him that control, but when I turned my head to the mirror I hadn’t noticed before, the sight of him—his body taut with effort, his eyes locked on me—made my pulse spike. Every thrust, every movement, felt like an electric shock. The sensation was overwhelming, and yet I couldn’t look away.

His voice broke through the haze of my thoughts, each word a threat and a promise. “Watch. Watch what you do to me. Watch how fucking hard I make you come.”

I couldn’t stop myself, couldn’t stop the way my body trembled with every word he said, with every brutal, punishing thrust. The raw power in his movements drove me to the edge of my restraint, and I was helpless against it.

Just as the pressure inside me built to a breaking point, he pulled away. The sudden loss of contact left me breathless, my body shuddering in frustration. I cried out, my hands curling into fists as I turned toward him, my eyes desperate.

“Grayson,” I begged, my voice rough with need. “Please…”

He didn’t give me what I wanted. Instead, he dragged me toward the bed, my legs shaky beneath me as he pushed me onto the soft surface. But even as my body sank into the mattress, he wasn’t done. His hands found my hips, positioning me in front of him again, but this time, he made me watch.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his hands gripping my hair again, tugging me back so I could see. “See what you do to me. Watch as I fuck you, Ava. Watch how fucking hard you make me lose control.”

The intensity of his words, his grip on me, had me almost undone. I couldn’t focus on anything but the way he was making me feel, the way he was controlling everything. I wanted to fight it, to regain some sense of power, but it was useless.

He moved faster, harder, and the bed creaked under the weight of our bodies. My hands gripped the sheets, my body straining to keep up with the pace he set, but I couldn’t do it.

Every thrust was a promise, a command that left me breathless.

“Say it again,” he commanded, his voice dark, deep. “Say my name again, Ava.”

And I did, my voice trembling. “Grayson.”

“Good girl,” he growled. “Keep saying it. Keep saying my name. Don’t stop.”

I couldn’t control the way my body responded, the way every word he said, every motion, sent me spiraling. I was losing myself, but somehow, I didn’t care anymore. All that mattered was the intensity, the way he made me feel.

The pressure inside me built again, overwhelming, until I could hardly breathe. My hands reached for him, needing to feel him closer, needing something to hold on to. I couldn’t stop the cry that tore from my throat when I finally shattered, my body convulsing as he kept moving, relentless, pushing me past the edge.

Even as I collapsed against him, trembling, gasping for air, he didn’t stop. He kept going, his movements unyielding, making me come again, and again, until I was too far gone to think, too consumed by him to care.

He didn’t slow down. Not for me, not for anything. The sound of our bodies, the heavy breathing, the broken moans—everything blurred together as we moved, a mix of need and control. With every thrust, I sank deeper, my body helpless against him, until there was nothing left of me but him, his voice, and the power he had over me.

And yet, despite that power… I knew then.

As he thrust into me again, another orgasm ripped through me, my back arching as I screamed his name. He thrust once more, groaning my name as he came inside me, his teeth sinking into my neck, biting down hard.

In that moment, it finally hit me with its full intent.

I was in love with him.

I loved Grayson Blackwood.