[BL] Transmigrated as the Villain CEO's Mermaid Secretary Chapter 218: Bedroom 2

"Grayson—" The na ca out of Neville’s mouth as sothing between a plea and a warning.

"Hmm?" The vibration against his sensitive neck made Neville’s toes curl.

"I can’t—you need to—"

Slow down, he wanted to say.

Speed up, he desperately held back to say.

The contradictions tangled in his throat, erging as nothing more than a broken whimper.

Grayson’s lips trailed downward from Neville’s collarbone, unhurried, deliberate, leaving behind warmth that blood into red and purple marks. Each press of his mouth lingered just long enough to make Neville aware of it before moving on.

Neville sucked in a sharp breath.

"—Ah!—" It slipped out before he could stop himself.

"Did you like that?" Grayson murmured, his voice low and close, vibrating against Neville’s skin.

Neville swallowed hard. "I— I didn’t—"

The sentence died instantly as Grayson’s teeth grazed his left nipple

It was a warning and a tease.

Neville’s back arched off the mattress with a broken sound as Grayson’s mouth closed over it completely.

It was too much!

"Grayson—!" Neville gasped, fingers twitching uselessly against the restraints.

A soft, unmistakably pleased sound left Grayson’s throat.

"Sensitive?" Grayson playfully whispered as his warm breath made his nipple tingling in sensation. "You didn’t tell ."

He didn’t wait for an answer and flicked his tongue out. He encircled the hardened peak, learning the shape of Neville’s reaction rather than the flesh itself. Grayson’s teeth followed, pinching down just hard enough to make Neville jolt off the mattress, a sharp sound tearing out of him.

"That’s—" Neville started, but his voice cracked embarrassingly. He tried again. "That’s because you— nng!"

"Because I what?" Grayson chuckled, low and rich, the vibration sending another jolt straight through Neville’s spine. "Do you want to stop?"

Neville’s rational brain scread, Say yes. Say it right now.

But Neville clenched his jaw, breath stuttering as his mouth remained clamped in silence.

Grayson’s eyes glinted in the dim light, flickering in satisfaction. He did not smile, but the purring from his throat already expressed its delight.

"Thought so," he humd in amusent.

His attention unhurriedly moved to the other nipple, his mouth doing the sa thing. This ti, he took his ti playing with it, sucking, licking, and gently scraping his teeth. Every sensation layered carefully atop the last, until Neville’s hips were rocking, writhing in need beneath him.

"Gray— wait—" Neville panted. "You’re—"

I’m losing it, Neville thought hazily.

Neville’s bound hands twisted as his fingers tried to grasp at nothing but air. Every ti he tried to reach out, Grayson would only grasp his wrists with one hand. His fingers were firm but not rough, weaving their hands together back up.

"Stay still," Grayson murmured, thumb pressing lightly into Neville’s pulse. "You’re moving too much."

"I can’t help it," Neville snapped breathlessly. "You— you—"

Grayson leaned down just enough for his forehead to brush Neville’s ribs.

"Breathe."

I’m trying.

Grayson’s pheromones wrapped around him like chains, drowning his senses until he couldn’t tell anymore where his own thoughts ended.

"—Ngh!—," Neville moaned hoarsely.

He felt like the inhibitor and calming pill he took was losing its effects as he lost his mind. Grayson’s rut-driven overwhelming intensity was just inescapable.

Grayson’s mouth traveled downwards. His lips pressed hot and open against Neville’s sternum before it descended even further. Each kiss left a faint trace on the ridges of Neville’s muscle. Each one made Neville acutely aware of where Grayson was going.

"—aghn!—" Neville’s breath ca out in short, helpless sounds.

He had never thought of his body as particularly impressive, especially not compared to Grayson’s amazing body. But the way those silver eyes darkened as it hungrily desired every part of his body made him think differently.

"I— nnn!—slow down," Neville said weakly.

"Too much?" Grayson asked with a faint crease forming between his brows.

But when those silver eyes t his gaze, Grayson was already smirking playfully like he didn’t an anything when he asked that. Then he felt Grayson trace his tongue on the groove beside his hip bone.

"Oh!— don’t—," Neville trembled at the foreign sensation.

Grayson’s thumb followed his rmaid line; his touch was burning against his skin. He started kissing along that exact line, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin where hip t thigh.

Neville’s entire body jolted, and a gasp ca out of his lungs. Grayson’s breath was warm against Neville’s trembling stomach, each exhale a brand against oversensitive skin.

"Ah—! Gray—!"

A sound escaped his throat, and his hips canted upward.

All nonsensical thoughts evaporated when Grayson suddenly bit down on the skin there. It was not enough to break the skin, but hard enough to leave a mark.

"No—!" Neville cried out, sharp and breathless.

Because he was an oga, Neville knew that he would have a purple bruise in the shape of Grayson’s teeth there.

Grayson made a satisfied hum, and Neville could feel it against his skin. He repeated the sa on the other side, but this ti he licked the spot afterward. It was slow and deliberate, as if soothing sothing he did.

"Stop," Neville managed weakly.

"Hmm?" Grayson tilted his head in askance. His eyes were filled with desire.

Neville blanked out when he saw those eyes. Only when Grayson pulled back slightly did Neville’s traitorous eyes move elsewhere. He now had the full view of Grayson’s upper body.

Grayson was really a work of art from top to bottom. The dim light caught the sheen of sweat on his skin, highlighting every ridge and valley of muscle on his body. The sight was simply a tornt for him, making his breath hitch and pant with desire.

Even though Grayson had long been away from his military duties, his body was still perfectly conditioned. His eight-pack abs were flexing with each breath. His biceps looked like they were carved with the expert hands of an artist.

Those well-defined muscles, even as he relaxed, moved like they were breathing by themselves. He had a sneak look at his back muscles earlier as he moved downwards; the display was simply breathtaking.

Neville had seen attractive people before; there were even manhwa adaptations before that couldn’t do justice in reality. But seeing it up close, a body that could only be described as sothing that perfectly matched between reality and fiction, was awe-inspiring.

But it wasn’t just that that made Neville catch his breath.

The faint black scales erged across Grayson’s shoulders and down his arms, tracing patterns across his whole body. It even crept down his forearms toward wrists that were still gripping Neville’s thighs.

It was a sign that Grayson’s control was slipping and demanding release.

It was devastatingly attractive. Neville thought, equal parts terrified and aroused. And I’m probably going to regret rejecting this opportunity.

Grayson was also doing the sa to Neville. He was taking Neville’s beautiful debouched sight in his eyes. Whatever was going on in his head, it made his eyes darken even more in desire.

He reached for Neville’s wrists again, fingers brushing the restraints. He asked in concern, "Does it hurt?"

Neville blinked, startled. "What?"

"The tie," Grayson clarified. "I can remove it."

For a mont, Neville couldn’t process the words. Every novel Neville had read, every theory he had, said that rutting alphas were dangerous, unpredictable, impossible to reason with. Yet here was Grayson still, scales erging and pupils blown wide with need, asking if his wrists were okay.

"You’re... asking?" he said incredulously.

"Hope." Grayson’s grip tightened just a little despite his playful tone. "I’m not that much of a beast."

"Don’t call that right now," Neville managed through gritted teeth. "It’s weird."

Grayson chuckled a little with eyes burning with desire. "What should I call you then?"

Don’t go soft now, he warned himself as he felt the butterflies in his stomach. He’s still in rut. He’s still dangerous.

"I—I don’t know," Neville said, stuttering as he swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth.

Suddenly, Grayson leaned in close to his face and whispered softly in a low, hoarse voice, "Neville, does it hurt?"

Neville’s throat bobbed as he stared directly into Grayson’s slit eyes.

"It’s fine," hypothesized by either his ear-piercing voice or his extrely handso face, Neville only heard himself say softly. "I’m fine."

Neville felt like slapping himself for saying that against all warnings.

Grayson looked at him for a long mont before nodding once. He was about to retract his words when he saw Grayson positioning himself again.

"I—Gray—!" Neville’s voice pitched upward in a hurry. "Wait—what are you—!"

Grayson didn’t pay him any mind and unhesitatingly descended below him. His hot and wet mouth directly took Neville’s mber completely.

"Fuck—" Neville cursed out loud.

He could feel the heat searing as Grayson’s tongue pressed against the underside. He was stroking from base to tip in one long, deliberate movent. He could feel his teeth barely grazing his mber as he tried to find the right spot based on his reaction.