Page 22 of Reaper

“Squeeze, Bella. Look into his eyes and squeeze the fucking life out of him.”

Kneeling between his legs, I lift my shirt she’s wearing, and run two fingers along the outside of her pussy. She’s fucking drenched.

“Good girl. Fucking perfect girl. Let the darkness in, living dead girl. Don’t fight it. I promise it’ll feel good.”

Unzipping my pants, I pull my cock out, grab her hips and lift her slightly, and sink into her with a groan.

“Do not let go of him. Squeeze tighter. Look into his eyes.”

She whimpers as I fuck her, while I know she’s watching his light fade. I was pretty sure I’d never let her go, but this has sealed the deal. Even if she doesn’t realize it yet, she’s my other half.

“He’s dead,” she breathes through heavy pants.

I take a fistful of her hair and pull her head back.

“Good girl. Now fucking come.”

“Nico!” she screams as I rail her in the dead of night. This is the soundtrack of my dreams. Her drenched pussy taking my cock, the splashing of water from the lake, and our heavy breaths.

She makes a sound, some kind of a strangled scream, and it sends me straight into a frenzy I never want to come out of.

“Harder,” she screams, and at this moment there’s very little I wouldn’t give her. She can have it all. Every fucking thing she wants is hers. Unless what she desires is to be away from me, because that’s not something she’ll ever be permitted to have.

She places her hands on Abruzzo’s chest, holding herself up, which would never be allowed if he were still alive. Releasing her hair, I move my hand and wrap it around her throat, without squeezing. Her pulse skyrockets as she whimpers.

“Nico, don’t.”

That’s the thing about people that say they’re ready to die. They rarely are. I knew that, when she asked me to kill her and be done with it. Placing my free hand on her stomach to hold her in place, I move inside her with hard thrusts, as I bite the side of her neck.

“You’re going to give me everything I want, living dead girl. There will be no holding back. I want it all. Even the fucking air you breathe.”

She whimpers and trembles under my control. This is how it’s supposed to be. I’m the only man who gets her fear. I slide in and out of her tight pussy as she shakes. Do I know she is terrified, because she thinks I might kill her now? Yes, but soon enough, she’ll experience what I want her to. An earth shattering orgasm. I’m an expert in controlling how much breath a person gets, and I haven’t made a mistake since I was twelve years old. She may be pissed later, but right now, that intense state of terror will heighten everything for her.

I squeeze my hand around her throat, and she grabs onto my flesh and claws at me, trying to force me to release her, but I don’t. Itighten my grip slightly and when her pussy tightens around my cock, I let her go and she gasps for air, followed by a scream. The fucking way she screams, as she comes apart for me, is my new favorite sound. I’ve never heard anything more beautiful in my life. If I hear it a million fucking times, it still won’t be enough.

Pulling her back tight against my chest, I hold her while I come inside her, my face pressed to her neck, and I inhale her scent while I come undone for her. The only god damn woman I’ve ever managed to not kill. My pretty little living dead girl that keeps trying to escape from me. I’m not sure how I’ll prevent her from doing it again, but somehow I will. At some point, Bella will learn that fleeing is not an option. Every time she takes off, I’ll find her again. There’s nowhere too far. I will always find her. I don’t care how angry it makes her. She doesn’t realize yet that when she’s pissed off, and acts nearly as unhinged as I am, it doesn’t upset me, it fucking thrills me.

“I hate you even more now. You’re such an asshole.”

I sigh with satisfaction. My girl doesn’t know what I do. She is just as fucking psychotic as I am.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

BELLA

He smirks at me.

“I believe you hate me, living dead girl. But I also know you love the way I fuck you.”

Getting up, and away from whoever the hell this dead guy is, I glare at Reaper with all the hatred I feel for him, straight to the very core of my soul.

Climbing off his knees, he tucks himself back into his pants and charges for me, like the monster he is. Reaching up, he touches the side of my face tenderly, and I hate it. I hate that I like it. What’s wrong with me? I’ll never admit it to him, but I know the truth, and it makes me sick to my stomach.

Reaper lowers his face so it’s close to mine, and speaks in a gravelly tone.

“Did he not deserve to die?”

I shake my head no.

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