Reaper's Legacy (Reapers MC, #2)(79)

That’s when I gave his nipple a final flick and started working my mouth down his stomach. Ruger wasn’t like some guy in a magazine ad. He had a model’s perfect abs, but he also had just enough hair to remind me I was dealing with a real man, not some pre-fabbed fantasy of clean, waxed sexuality. I rubbed my chin against the dip of his navel, savoring the power I held over him before going lower.

Some girls love giving head.

I’ve never been one of them, so I didn’t have a lot of experience to work with. What I did have was a hell of an imagination, and I’d been thinking about taking his cock into my mouth since that first night on his deck. I remembered sitting there, seeing him outlined in front of me through the thin flannel of his lounge pants, wanting to touch him more than anything.

Now I could.

Ruger tilted his head up, one arm folded back and under his neck, watching with hooded eyes as I rubbed the head gently against my cheek, considering my next move. I reached out my tongue and flicked the notch at the bottom of his glans. Then I swirled it around the little metal knob.

Ruger’s breath hissed and I felt a surge of pure, feminine power.

I licked it again, playing with his piercing before sucking him in hard. The metal post was weird, but it wasn’t like I planned to deep-throat him, so it didn’t matter. I started bobbing my head up, working him with my hand at the same time. His fingers burrowed deep into my hair, guiding me.

“You’re killing me, Soph,” he muttered, groaning. “Stop. I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.”

I liked that idea. For once it would be nice to see Jesse “Ruger” Gray lose control. But just when I’d decided to make it happen, his fingers tightened in my hair, dragging my mouth away from his cock.

“Ride me,” he ordered.

Oh, I could work with that …

I climbed over him, reaching down to guide him into my body. Even though I was probably wetter than I’d ever been in my life, taking his full length went slowly. From this angle I felt every inch of him, stretching me so wide it almost hurt. I stopped several times to let myself adjust, his eyes boring into me the whole while. When I finally had all of him I stilled, catching my breath.

Ruger still watched me, his face full of need and intensity and desire. He leaned up on one elbow, the flex of his stomach muscles almost painful against my oversensitized clit. He reached out and caught a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear, and then cupped my cheek, his face almost tender.

I closed my eyes.

Angry Ruger? Fine. Horny Ruger? I’d gotten used to that, too. But Ruger as a gentle lover? I didn’t have room for that in my head, not if I wanted to survive and move forward with my life. I started rocking back and forth on him, the movement ever-so-slight but almost painfully pleasurable. His hand dropped from my face to my hip, urging me to go faster, so I did.

It didn’t take long to bring him back to the edge. At some point I leaned forward on his chest for leverage, digging my nails into his pecs, which seemed to turn him on even more. Ruger liked a touch of pain, I decided, so I did my best to crush him with my inner muscles.

I’m generous that way.

I was close to coming myself when he lost patience, rolling me over and taking control again. He grabbed my legs, shoving them up and over his shoulders. Then he pounded me hard until I screamed out my orgasm.

Ruger followed right behind, and when he came, he called out my name.

I fell asleep with him wrapped around me, both of us on our sides, one of his hands resting lightly against my stomach. He’d gone downstairs and grabbed a blanket, covering the hay and creating a nest for us.

At some point I woke to find Ruger’s hand between my legs, slowly stroking me as I drifted. He rolled me to my stomach, spread my legs, and slid into my body gently and carefully. I sighed, the delicious pressure building and exploding with a subtlety I’d never experienced before.

Then he wrapped himself around me again and I drifted back into sleep. I woke up when my cell rang at six the next morning, finding myself alone on my futon, surrounded by his smell. I didn’t recognize the name and the caller hung up. Fucking wrong number.

I rolled to my side and saw the empty pizza box, still sitting on the coffee table.

Damn. What the hell was I supposed to do with a situation like this? Insane. All of it.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN




“God, I love dancing,” Kimber said, sucking on a cigarette. It was just shy of midnight on Friday, and we stood on the sidewalk outside a club in downtown Spokane. I had a nice buzz going.

“My feet are gonna hurt so bad, but totally worth it,” I agreed, swaying a little. I felt my cheeks flush, which was funny, so I started laughing. Kimber shook her head at me.

“I can’t take you anywhere,” she said gravely. “Lightweight. Where the hell did Em go? I want to check out this guy of hers. I thought the deal was we’d look him over and decide whether he’s worth her time. She’s cheating.”

“No shit. Bitch. I hate her.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Kimber replied, stabbing the air with her smoke for emphasis. “How am I supposed to live the single life vicariously if I don’t get any details?”

I shook my head and shrugged mournfully.

“I’m doing my part. I tell you everything.”

“And don’t think I don’t appreciate it,” she said, tearing up slightly. We gave each other a drunken hug.