Reaper's Legacy (Reapers MC, #2)(59)

Well, f*ck that.

He was a jealous *, and the thought of some other man’s cock in her juicy little cunt … Picnic was right—he needed to claim her or let her go, and that sure as f*ck wouldn’t be happening. Ever. Sophie might not be ready for a property patch, but that didn’t matter. He’d patched her a different way, with a ring of slowly purpling marks around her neck. His very own collar, branding her and declaring to the world that she had a man who owned her.

God, he loved the sight of her laid out on the bench, hands tied with his belt, tank and bra pushed high, boobs shaking every time he slammed home. Better than he’d ever imagined, and f*ck, he’d spent a lot of time imagining her just like this. He tried to be careful, but when she started whimpering and convulsing around him it was too much. Ruger drove deep, loving the little scream she gave, blowing his self-control. Something primal and powerful broke free.

He grabbed her hips, digging his fingers into her ass. One hand slid closer to her rear and he thought, what the hell, sliding in his finger. She stiffened and shrieked, interior muscles convulsing around him so hard he had to stop and hold steady, trying not to explode on the spot.

That hadn’t been a shriek of pain, thank f*ck.

Sophie stared at him with wide eyes, panting so hard her tits practically danced. It was f*cking hot. He’d remember this moment as long as he lived. Ruger started moving again, savoring the clench of her muscles with every stroke, wondering if it was possible to die from pleasure.

Seemed pretty likely, all things considered.

He used his finger deep inside, and his hand on her hip, to control her position. He knew from her gasp that he’d hit exactly right. Now every stroke ground the rounded head of his barbell against her G-spot. Making a girl come while playing with her clit was fine, but he f*ckin’ loved the way it felt if he got them off from the inside.

He wanted that from Sophie—total convulsion, total submission. She stiffened and moaned. Fucking close.

“Okay, baby,” he said, watching her face. She’d closed her eyes, head turned to the side, back arching as she strained toward him. He should’ve patched her years ago. What the f*ck had he been thinking, missing out on this? “Blow around me, show me what that sweet * of yours can do.”

In the background, Ruger heard voices, and knew some of the brothers had come into the shed. The thought of them seeing him like this, watching him brand Sophie, almost sent him over the edge. This wasn’t just about f*cking her—although f*cking her definitely kicked ass. No, this was about claiming her once and for all, and the more people who saw it, the better.

Ruger slammed into her harder, loving the little grunting noises she made with every thrust. He knew she was close, damned close, so he pulled out just enough to center his cock head on her G-spot and started a series of hard, short, unrelenting strokes. She came with a scream, hips jerking and tits shaking. Her * felt like a damned vise, and that did it for him. Ruger pulled out at the last second, spraying his come across her stomach.

Perfect.

She’d never been more beautiful—at his mercy, covered in his seed, and marked so that any man who saw her would know she was f*cking owned. He wanted to tattoo his name across her ass and keep her tied up like this all day, ready and waiting for his cock.

Somehow, he doubted she’d be on board with that. Ruger bit back a grin. Sophie opened her eyes and looked up at him, dazed.

“Wow,” she whispered.

“No shit,” Ruger replied, wondering if any man in history had ever felt half as satisfied as he did in that moment. Probably not. He dropped a hand down to her stomach, rubbing his come slowly up her body toward her nipples.

Yup, he was a pretty sick f*ck, because even that turned him on.

Having an old lady wasn’t half bad, he decided. Not half bad at all.

SOPHIE

Holy shit on a stick. That was … unprecedented.

Ruger had asked how many men I’d been with and I’d told him three. But compared to him? I wasn’t sure the others even qualified. I’d never felt anything quite as good as what he’d just done to me. Not even close. Now he gazed down at me with lazy, hooded eyes, smug as all hell.

He deserved to be.

I grinned right back at him. Maybe this wasn’t such a huge mistake.

“Damn, she squealed like a f*ckin’ pig,” a man’s voice said off to the right. I went from afterglow to pure horror in less than a second. Not only was I splayed on the counter, totally exposed, but my hands were tied up, too. I thrashed, trying to get free, hoping to hell they’d just heard me, rather than watched the whole show.

Ruger laughed, which was not an acceptable response. Not even a little.

“Fuck off,” he said, turning toward the three men who’d come up next to the van. He didn’t sound pissed, though. He sounded pretty damn pleased with himself. “This one’s mine. Go screw your own girl.”

The men laughed and wandered over to the far side of the shed to look at the motorcycles, as if they hadn’t just seen me getting publicly plowed.

Oh. My. God.

“Ruger, pull down my shirt and let me go,” I hissed. “Now.”

He reached down and straightened my bra and T-shirt, then tucked his cock back into his pants. This wasn’t cutting it—I wanted my arms free and my shorts on. Now. Instead, he leaned down over me, standing between my legs, elbows braced on either side of my body.