Reaper's Property (Reapers MC, #1)(77)

He looked so genuinely upset that I believed him.

“How often does it happen?” I asked softly. “What else goes on at your parties?”

“All kinds of shit happens at parties,” Horse said, sighing heavily. “But that’s really none of your business. It’s wilder tonight because there’s blood in the air, that’s all. Nobody’s getting hurt and nobody’s here against their will. That’s all you need to know.”

“Have you done it?”

He shook his head, although whether he was denying it or just making it clear I couldn’t expect an answer, I couldn’t tell.

“Are we really gonna do this?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Dig up everything either of us has ever done? I thought we were over that. I’m not a saint, babe, and I’ve never pretended to be. But I promised you that I wouldn’t cheat on you and I haven’t. I won’t. I trust that you won’t either. Isn’t that good enough?”

I nodded, wondering if killing children fell under the category of “not being a saint”.

“You need to write back to Jeff,” he said abruptly. “The faster we work through this the better.”

I nodded and grabbed my phone. It took about three minutes to type out the message, which he read over before hitting send. It was simple enough—I asked Jeff to call me and told him I was safe with the Reapers but that the Jacks were dangerous. I was afraid of them.

I set the phone down on the little bedside table. Horse reached over, pulling me to him, kissing me as his fingers reached between my legs. I resisted at first, turning my head away, tensing. He just rubbed up and down, slowly and steadily, as he leaned over and started on my breasts. He licked at them, sucking my nipples in and then flicking his tongue until I twisted against him, wanting more even though I despised myself for it.

Jeff claimed the man was a murderer. Yet when Horse hooked two of his fingers deep inside me I crumbled, spreading my legs and mewling for more, pumping my hips against his fingers. He slid farther down the bed, taking my knees and pushing them up and over his shoulders as his mouth covered my clit. Horse had the tongue of a devil, sliding around my little nub, alternating between teasing it and fluttering, then moving to suck just strong enough to almost hurt me but not quite. The entire time he worked me over inside until I twisted and moaned against him, hovering on the edge of climax.

That’s when he stuck his finger in my ass.

He’d been doing this more and more and while I found it startling, I also enjoyed it. In fact, he’d been sticking in two and even three fingers, stretching me and shaping me, usually while he played my clit. Other times he’d put me on my hands and knees, thrusting into me from behind with his cock in my * and his fingers in my ass. I knew he wanted anal sex. Sometimes he rubbed the head of his cock against my opening, pressing lightly. He’d always been incredibly careful, but I hadn’t let him stick it in me. To be honest, our sex life was so great I didn’t think it needed much in the way of improvement, and his size scared me a little.

But there was something different that night. Looking back, I wonder if he sensed just how wrong things were, despite my attempts to reassure him. He worked me over hard with his tongue, making me come three times, leaving me limp and quivering, every muscle in my body loose and pliant. I wasn’t thinking about Jeff or the party or anything other than the sense of completion and sensual satisfaction he gave me. That’s when Horse rolled me onto my stomach, then lifted my hips and pushed a pillow under them. I stayed limp as his hands spread my cheeks, and he pressed lightly against my opening with his finger. It slipped in easily.

“I want this,” he said softly, leaning over and kissing me between the shoulder blades. “I need to own you. All of you. Make you scream and realize that you belong to me and I belong to you and nothing else matters. I can’t let you slip away from me, babe.”

A second finger joined the first and I wiggled my hips a little, feeling the stretch and the pressure. He guided his penis into my vagina, sliding in and out, the position perfect for reaching the spongy spot on my inner front wall. His fingers mirrored his penis, rubbing me and stretching me from behind. Then he pulled his fingers out and something cool and wet dripped into my opening. His fingers rubbed the lube in deep, warming it, and then he pulled his cock free from my body. He fumbled for a minute and I heard the tear of a condom wrapper.

I stiffened as he placed the head against my rear. I was afraid it would hurt, but he shushed me softly and rubbed the small of my back until I relaxed again. Then he started pushing in very, very slowly. It stretched and pinched, but not nearly as much as I’d imagined it would. It was more pressure than anything else, a strange kind of fullness I’d caught hints of from his fingers. Every few seconds he’d stop, giving me time to grow used to the feeling of him deep inside me. Then he’d push a little more.

He had to be about halfway in when his hand reached down under the pillow to find my clit. After all he’d done to me, I was incredibly sensitive and he seemed to know that, because he used a light touch to rub it in circles, pushing deeper into my ass until I felt the muscles of his stomach against my bottom. I flexed, trying to accustom myself to this new intruder, and he groaned sharply. I felt him jerk inside me, and I squeezed again.

“Holy shit,” Horse muttered, starting to rub my clit more quickly. “You’re gonna kill me, babe.”