Page 50 of Reaper
"I'm going to come," I gasp, my voice breaking on the words. "Fuck, Reaper, I'm going to come because of you."
His grip on my hips tightens, and I see something shift in his expression — raw need mixed with something deeper, more primal.
“When you come," I continue breathlessly, my words tumbling out between his thrusts, "I want you to come inside me. I want to feel your cock release inside me, feel every drop of your come in my pussy."
The words seem to unleash something in both of us. His movements become more urgent, more desperate, and the coil inside me finally snaps.
The orgasm tears through me like lightning, every muscle in my body contracting as waves of pleasure crash over me. My vision goes white, then explodes into colors, and I scream his name so loud I'm sure the entire building can hear me.
"REAPER!"
My body shakes violently as the intensity overwhelms every sense. I feel him pulse inside me, his own release triggered by mine, and the sensation of his warmth filling me sends another wave of pleasure through my already over-sensitized body.
He groans my name, his voice rough and broken as he spills inside me. I can feel every pulse, every drop, just like I wanted. The intimacy, the complete surrender we've both given to this moment, hits me harder than any physical sensation.
We collapse together, both of us shaking and gasping for air. He pulls me against his chest, his arms wrapping around meas we try to catch our breath. I can feel his heart hammering against my back, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
For several long minutes, we just lie there in the aftermath, our bodies still joined, still trembling with residual pleasure. The room settles into quiet, the silence full of everything we can't quite put into words yet.
When he finally speaks, his voice is soft against my ear. "Are you okay?"
I turn in his arms to face him, studying those bright eyes that seem to see straight through me. There's vulnerability there now, mixed with satisfaction and something that might be wonder.
"More than okay," I say, surprised by the truth of it. “I’m glad you came into the room.”
“I am, too.”
I kiss him once more. Slow, gentle, in a way that feels more raw and real than anything we did earlier. It’s a kiss that frightens me to my core, and when I pull back, it’s hard to even look in his eyes, despite how mesmerizing they are; I’m scared to see myself in their reflection, scared to see how open and vulnerable I feel with him.
There are feelings roiling in my chest that frighten me with how new, how foreign, how impossible they should be to feel with a man like Reaper, and yet, I feel them.
“What are you thinking?” He says.
I can’t tell him. I don’t even want to say them aloud because that would make them more real.
I fake a yawn. Well, halfway fake; I’ve just been fucked into oblivion and my body is coming down from some orgasmic cloud above heaven, so halfway through my fake yawn, it turns real.
“I think I need to go to sleep,” I say. Then I shut my eyes and let him put his arms around me, pulling me against his chest, while I wait for sleep to take me.
Then another thought comes to me. It grips me as tight and consuming as the embrace of the man that I once thought killed my sister, the man who I just fucked.
I’d better be right about you, Reaper.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Reaper
It takes me ages to fall asleep. Ages, lying there, holding Adriana, trying to stifle the storm raging in my heart and the rising tide of arousal within me that grows from the sheer fact of holding her naked body next to mine. I want to lie next to her, silent, watching and listening to her breathe; I want to wake her up and fuck her over and over because I just can’t get enough of hearing her scream my name. I want to ask her what the fuck it is that changed her mind from wanting to kill me to wanting to blow my mind with how incredible it feels to be buried deep inside her tight pussy.
I want to ask her why this feeling that stirs inside me makes me think maybe I don’t want to die. That thought terrifies me in ways that I haven’t felt since that fateful night that Vanessa died. Am I moving on? Am I finally laying Vanessa to rest by fucking her sister?
I lay beside her, watching her breathe, and with each exhale, I feel a piece of that old hate, that old regret, leave me, too.
Still, that fear doesn’t leave me so easily.
Adriana thinks she knows the story of how Vanessa died. And maybe she knows more than I’m giving her credit for. She has a web of connections in law enforcement, knows many things I don’t — which isn’t saying much, because I’ve never claimed to be a smart man and I’ve lived my life that way,which is something that Tank would definitely vouch for — but what happens to her, what happens to us, when she learns the full truth? That the only reason Vanessa died is because of the actions I took against my old boss, Victor Moretti? That even though I didn’t stick the needle in her veins, the only reason it went into her is because of me?
Whether I shot her up doesn’t matter; she still died in that hospital because of the choices I made. Because of me.
