Page 30 of Ravaged By the Reaper
“Then make me,” she hisses—and I snap my hips.
The sound she gives me? That’s not submission. That’s surrender wrapped in challenge. And I accept.
Her legs lock around my waist, dragging me in deeper, harder. Her eyes lock with mine, wild and unblinking. She’s riding the edge, chasing something feral, and I’m going to give it to her.
“Maker, you’re…” she starts, but her voice breaks on a scream when I hit the spot that makes her whole body quake. Her fingernails leave trails down my back. I feel blood. It excites me.
She claws, bites, curses in three languages I don’t speak. I answer with thrusts that shake the shuttle’s frame. It’s not just sex. It’s claiming. It’s war.
“I’ll ruin you,” I growl against her throat.
“Then do it,” she snaps.
And I do.
When she breaks beneath me, trembling and soaked, she cries out my name like a battle hymn. I follow, a snarl ripped from my chest as my body locks tight with hers. We collapse together, panting, tangled, drenched in sweat and something older than need.
I cradle her. Not gently, but with purpose. A Reaper holds what he claims. And I’ve claimed her.
“I’m not done,” she whispers into my throat.
“Good,” I growl. “Neither am I.”
I shift her against the metal wall, her slick thighs gripping my waist like a vice. My cock still pulses inside her, thick with heat and hunger. Sparks cascade from the shorting overhead lights, the flicker painting her silver hair in flame and shadow. Her pussy clenches again, and I snarl low against her throat. She’s insatiable—and mine.
Her fingers rake through my hair, anchoring me to her body, dragging me back into the fire we started. I don’t resist. I bare my teeth, licking the sweat from her neck, tasting the salt of exertion and desire.
“Haktron…” she breathes, more plea than command. Her breath feathers against my ear, her voice soaked in want.
I rear back enough to see her eyes—blue ice turned molten. Every time she looks at me like that, I remember what it means to be alive.
I grip her hips again, lifting her easily. Her back arches against the shuttle’s steel bulkhead, her pussy already wet and ready for me. I thrust deep, and we both cry out. The shuttle hums and shakes, but nothing could match the power of her body gripping mine, pulling me deeper, tighter.
“Fuck,” I hiss, jaw tightening as I bury myself to the hilt. “You take me like you were made for this.”
Her nails scrape bone and muscle. “Maybe I was.”
We move together in a rhythm born of survival and fury, a tempo that would tear lesser creatures apart. Her body is a temple and a battlefield—sacred, violent, consuming. My bone spurs scrape against the shuttle walls, leaving trails in the metal as I drive into her, over and over. Every thrust is an oath.
“Mine,” I growl, again and again, branding her with the word.
She breaks on me again, trembling, moaning, muscles clenching. Her orgasm rolls through her like a storm, dragging me with it. I hold her tight, feel her heartbeat crash against mine.
I slam into her one last time and let go, roaring her name as I spill into her, filling her, claiming her all over again.
She collapses against me, breathless and dazed. I press my forehead to hers. She’s radiant—wrecked and powerful and beautiful in ruin.
“I love you,” she whispers.
My chest clenches. I kiss her temple, voice raw. “I love you.”
No lies. No masks. Just truth.
In the still aftermath, I hold her tighter than ever before. The fire may return, the war may rage—but here, in this metal shell, with her breath warming my throat.
I follow her—a release built from unconstrained rage, need, possessiveness. My breath trashes. My hips move one final time—not for her, but for us. The world shatters into white heat and then collapses into quiet. All I feel is the echo of her release, mirrored in the quake deep in my core.
When we collapse, it’s not falling. It’s melting.
