Raiva woke up to a gentle knock on the door. She opened her eyes, blinking a few times at the cracks of light sneaking past her curtains. They were pale and cool toned, indicating it still to be early, likely not long after sunrise.

Shelly? This early? She’s not supposed to get here until half past seven.

Sitting up, and stretching she called out, “Yes?”

She suppressed a yawn waiting for a response.

“It’s Griffin,” a deep, hushed voice replied, barely audible.

Her tired eyes opened wide, and she quickly crawled out of her bed, shivering a little in the morning cold. She moved to open the door, hardly believing he was on the other side of it.

He’s not supposed to be back yet!

For a brief moment she was wondering how he’d react to the obvious signs of her partaking in alcohol with someone else, something he had clearly used as a euphemism prior.

That means it means it carries connotation right?

She felt a little hot, displacing her shivers, at the thought of seeing a jealous grimace on his face, picking her up and carrying her off to claim her as his again, wiping away the scent and trace of another.

“Raiva?” his voice sounded gently from the other side of the door, having heard her feet quietly cross the the floor.

She shook her heads, banishing her silly, salacious thought, and finally opened the door.

There he stood, somewhat hulking over her. His scent was more intense than usual, his musk stronger, but still decidedly pleasant, as it wafted towards her. His face adopted a gentle smile as she finally locked eyes with his.

“I thought you would be gone for another two days,” she said quietly, her lips curling into a teasing smile. “You missed be that much?”

He chuckled.

“Maybe,” he answered noncommittally and ran his broad, callused hand over her tousled hair. “Can I come in?”

She tugged at his shirt, playfully leading him inside. The door closed behind them with a soft thud.

He pushed her against the door and without a word, turned the key to lock it.

His lips met hers in a fierce kiss, making them both forget about the cold. She threw her arms around his neck, drawing him in, seeking his warmth and embrace.

Finally, he put his hands around her waist, easily picking her up and pinning her between the door and himself. His hips began moving, as if by themselves, and she could feel him getting hard, and pressing against her through her dress.

For a moment, the two parted breathlessly and they gazed into each others eyes in the dimly lit room, only illuminated by little rays of morning light.

“Did you drink too much again last night?” he whispered, grinning.

She shook her head, muttering as she stroked his hair, “No, just a bit of brandy.”

He tensed up a little.

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Leaning close to her ear, obscuring his own face through proximity, he continued, “With who?”

She moaned softly at his voice so close to her, and replied half-muddled, “Cassian.”

He jerked his head back, and she immediately knew she’d messed up.

Shit.

“You mean Lord Lorentz,” he asked, tightening his grip around her. His usual frown returned to his face. “Since when do you call him by his first name? Did You…?”

Are you seriously asking me that with your dick pressed against me?

She responded with a small shrug, and a straightforward, “Yes.”

He let her down to the ground and stepped back to look at her properly.

“Because I was gone?”

“What? No, not really. We talked and it happened,” she frowned at him, a little taken aback at his reaction. “Why does that matter?”

“We-“ he turned to pace for a heartbeat, running his hands through his hair. “Last week-“

What is this? He’s clearly experienced, there’s no way in hell this is his first fling.

“Yes,” she interrupted him, becoming keenly aware of the cold once again. She crossed her arms. “We had sex.”

“And the other day-”

“Yes, and we were about to.”

“I-,” he seemed to want to say something, but paused, confused. “Yes.”

She looked at his softening, faltering expression, and sighed.

“Griffin, I didn’t think we were exclusive. I’m sorry. Does it bother you?”

He thought for a moment.

“I’m unsure.”

“Why?”

He halted. “I’m confused.”

“What about?”

“Why you were with him, when you and me are-”

“Because I wanted to,” she shrugged. “And I still want you, as well.”

“Oh. Well.”

Oh?

He looked hesitant, not sure about what to say or what to do.

“We can stop if you want,” she said, moving towards him.

I might as well.

She put her hand on his chest, grabbing his shirt to make him bend a bit.

Her lips brushed against his ear a little as she whispered, “If you mind Cassian tying me up and fucking me occasionally, that is.”

He let out a stifled grunt, before jerking back and growling, “He did what?”

Turned on, angry.

She held her wrists up, where she was slightly bruised from wriggling out of the knots on her own.

“Tied me up, Griffin,” she tilted her head to the side, looking up at him. He twitched a little, furrowing his brows. “Bent me over and fucked me.”

Sorry, Cassian.

He pulled her in, once again kissing her, more fervently than before. He was harder than before, she could feel, and his moans and groans more excited than last time, from what she remembered.

His hands were almost desperate as they held her and caressed her, demanding more with every touch. Her breathing was already becoming disjointed, turned on by his arousal.

He picked her up once again, muttering to himself, “I’m going to kill him.”

She giggled, kissing him once again, as he walked over to the bed, throwing her onto it.

He’s rough.

In a few seconds he had undressed, showing her his sculpted figure, glistening from whatever exercise he must have been up to so early in the morning, as well as his almost feverish arousal. He was hard, and seemed bigger than she recalled.

Shit.

Without further ado, he pushed himself into her, fast, hard, and nearly inconsiderate.

He was big, but fortunately she was wet enough that it didn’t hurt, other than soreness from last night. She let out an intense moan, gripping his arms tightly.

His hands were placed on either side of her head as he thrust into her, unrelenting in his force, as we wiggled and writhed, both deriving pleasure from the intensity, but also a sense of discomfort from the lack of warm up. She was still pretty tight, which made his size only just bearable at times.

For a minute, she tried to relax, and adjust, but Griffin kept on going, an almost distant look on his face.

She finally couldn’t take it anymore, and urged him to stop.

“Griffin!” she exclaimed, her arms pushed at his chest, trying to grab his attention.

He halted, looking confused.

“You’re hurting me,” she whispered gently. “I’m sore.”

“Shit,” he said hurriedly as he pulled out.

He remained propped up over her, unsure of what she wanted him to do.

Where did all the confidence go? Oh lords, what have I done to the man?

Deciding on changing intensities, he sat up, pulling her onto his lap.

As they sat there, naked, he gently kissed her shoulder, cradling her with his arms.

“I apologize,” he mumbled, as he carefully grasped her wrist.

He kissed the delicate bruising, sending a rush down her spine and warmth spread throughout her body.

“It’s alright,” she whispered back, leaning against him. “Thank you.”

He continued kissing her other wrist, and moved towards her neck, as he caressed her back with his fingers. His touch was rough from his calluses, but light in touch.

She hummed contently, and sighed.

He put his forehead against hers, and asked, “Do you want to try again?”

A soft smile appeared on her face as she clasped his face in her hands and replied, “Yes.”