The Alpha King's Reluctant Bride (Ava and Grayson) novel Chapter 117

-Ava’s POV-

I shut that thought out because I didn’t want to think as my hands clawed at his shirt, tearing at 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 the taut muscles beneath. I didn’t pause to admire him. The frustration, the anger, and the undeniable pull between us made everything else irrelevant.

He was relentless, his thrusts a steady, punishing rhythm, driving me mad. I was out of control, and it only made him more dangerous. He didn’t allow me any 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 could feel the heat of his skin, the intensity of every movement. His breath was ragged against my car as he whispered, “Stop trying to fight me, Ava.”

I wanted to argue, wanted to lash out, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I clenched around him, and the growl that rumbled in his chest told me he noticed. His hand found my hair, tugging it back so that my head tilted, exposing my neck. I could feel the desperation building in him too, 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 to him in a way that made no sense. Every part screamed for more, even as I knew I should be pulling away, should be fighting for control.

of me

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

I was lost in the moment, my senses consumed by him, by the roughness, the force of his movements. I could feel 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 in his tone stirring something deep within me. “Say it, or I won’t stop.”

I wanted to defy him, to ignore his demand, but something about the way he said it, the urgency and possessiveness in his voice, made my body betray my mind.

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

“Good girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing against 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.

And then, 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 shot out to brace against the cool surface in front of me, but it did little to steady me as he positioned himself behind me, his movements swift and decisive.

The change in position took me by surprise, 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 could feel every inch of him, every hard push, every forceful drive that had me on the

edge.

His hands moved to my hair again, pulling it tight, and I could stop the gasp that escaped me 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.”

“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, over and over, 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.