Reaper's Legacy(69)

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?” I asked. “Because I don’t think anything’s changed. We can’t afford to get involved and then have it go sour. Noah deserves better than that.”

“I’m not askin’ you anything,” he said, deliberately grinding his hips against mine. I groaned out loud. What the hell was it about this man that tied me up in knots? Maybe I had some sort of primitive hardwiring running the show, attracting me to a man strong enough to care for my child …

“I’m tellin’ you,” he continued. “You’re my property, babe. I’ll take damned good care of you and Noah. You’ll take care of me. But only one cock goes into that * of yours—mine—and that’s the end of it. Got me?”

I blinked at him, confused.

“I thought you weren’t looking to settle down?”

“I’m lookin’ to take care of you and Noah,” he said. “Neither of us wants to f*ck up Noah’s life. But you know what? I’m good for Noah. It’s a fact. Boys need men in their lives and I love the crap out of him. We’ve been all twisted up in each other forever and now it’s all out in the open anyway.”

“I won’t be your whore,” I muttered. Ruger grunted, a touch of humor entering his eyes.

“Trust me, I don’t put this much time and effort into whores,” he said, his voice rueful. “Whores are nothing. You’ll be my old lady, my property. I know this is all new to you, but it’s a big f*ckin’ deal in my world.”

I turned that over in my head, which was difficult, because he leaned down and started kissing my neck, boosting me higher so he could reach. Not his usual hard and brutal invasion … No, this was slow and seductive, and then he started sucking gently and I wanted to cry, it felt so good. I squirmed against him, my hips desperate for more stimulation, but he wouldn’t give it to me. Instead he nibbled along my chin before finding new places on my neck to suck and nip.

I heard the music from the party in the background, the sounds of people laughing and talking, but here in the cool darkness of the shop it felt like our own separate world. Ruger surrounded me with his smell and strength and the sheer, vibrant energy that defined him as a man overwhelming my senses.

No one got to me like he did.

He pulled me away from the van, carrying me across the shop without pausing in his attentions to my neck. I found myself laid back on the counter behind the panel truck, Ruger’s body covering my own. My hands clutching his head as he kissed down my throat, pausing every few seconds to suck, his fingers reaching between my legs to rub slowly up and down along the inside of my thigh.

I’d worn a black T-shirt with a V-neck, which proved no barrier to him at all. Ruger tugged the shirt up and flicked open the front clasp on my bra with disturbing speed. Then his mouth sucked in my nipple—the hard metal ball in his tongue almost painful—and my back arched up off the counter.

The hand between my legs unzipped my fly, and he lifted my hips just enough to slide off my cutoffs and panties. I felt the cool metal of the counter on my bare ass as Ruger’s roughened fingers rubbed up and down along my clit.

“Holy shit, that feels good,” I muttered, trying to wrap my brain around everything he’d said. This wasn’t the plan, not even a little bit. For one, I hadn’t planned on unpacking and sharing all that old baggage about Zach. Not now, not ever. The girls had told me to confront Ruger directly, set out my requirements and then stand up for myself.

Instead he gave the orders and I melted like a damned puddle all over a dirty bench in a shop.

What if someone walked in on us?

I’d opened my mouth to protest when Ruger pulled away from my breast, shoving his fingers into me hard at the same time. He dropped to his knees, lips finding my clit, and my brain shorted out completely.

His tongue flicked over my most sensitive spot, teasing me with the unholy combination of his soft tongue and that hard metal ball. Throw in the steady suction of his mouth and it was nearly enough to send me over the edge. Then his finger pressed deep, finding that perfect spot on my inside wall, sending shudders racking through my body. He kept up a steady pressure, rubbing back and forth as his tongue drove me slowly insane.

Then Ruger pulled away long enough to say, “Play with your tits.”

It didn’t occur to me to argue.

I moaned and reached up, taking my nipples and rolling them between my fingers, pinching and tugging like he’d done the morning before. I’d held out against him then—I’d put Noah first, because any relationship between me and Ruger would be a disaster, and the fallout could leave us homeless again.