Reap (Scarred Souls, #2)(36)

She pulled in a deep breath and started combing through my hair again. I groaned as it stopped hurting my head and started feeling good.

I ran my mouth across her skin. But I wanted to see more. Lifting her clothing, I ran my fingers upward.

I wanted to see underneath her shirt.

I frowned when I found her breasts covered with a black material. The female moaned as I ran my hands over the front of the material and pulled it apart. Freeing her tits I dropped the material to the floor. The female released a shocked cry as her tits were freed. I groaned as my hands cupped them, her red nipple hardening as my thumb ran over the flesh. The female, now breathless, folded her arms over my head, pushing my mouth around her mounds.

As soon as her taste touched my tongue, need surged through my body.

More. I needed more.

Reaching out my hands, I gripped the back of her thighs and pulled her spread legs over my lap. She shouted out as her cunt landed over my cock. Lifting one hand, I grabbed the clothing covering her tits and pulled it over her head. My nostrils flared as I glanced down to her bare top half. My heart beat louder, my blood rushed faster, and I ran my finger down her body from the bottom of her throat to the waistband of her pants.

She was perfect.

She had no scars. Master hadn’t hurt her.

Relief ran through me knowing that she hadn’t endured pain like me. The man in the white coat hadn’t strapped her down, hadn’t cut her, hadn’t injected her with the needle that brought venom to the vein.

Moving my hands from her front to her ass, I dragged her forward, the warmth from her cunt immediately rolling over me. I groaned as my mouth sucked on her tit, the feeling of her sitting on top of me taking its hold.

The female’s hands raked through my wet hair. They slid right through, her sharp nails on my scalp making me grunt and thrust my hips.

No one had ever put their fingers through my hair. No females Master ordered me to f*ck had ever touched me that way. They didn’t care; they didn’t want me. I didn’t want them. But I wanted her.

Releasing one tit, I moved to the other and flicked my tongue over the nipple. Her hips began to roll over my cock faster and a growl rumbled in my throat.

It felt good.

Gripping her ass harder, her cunt getting hotter, I snapped my head back. The feel of her against me was too much.

The female gripped my hair, and when I brought my head back down, she was watching me, big brown eyes watching me.

She was so beautiful and she looked at me like she cared. No other female had looked in my eyes before, no one looked me in the eyes. Master said I wasn’t worthy.

I studied her pale skin. Her blond hair fell forward on my chest as her forehead leaned forward to meet mine.

Her breathing was short, and she rocked faster. Her full tits bounced, but I couldn’t take my hands off her ass, my eyes off her eyes.

“Oh, God…,” the female whispered, her eyes fluttering and her body starting to jerk. “Oh, God, God … I’m…”

The female’s hands fisted my hair and she threw her head back. I couldn’t stop watching as her pink lips parted, her hot breath drifted over my skin and a long cry raced from her throat.

Her hips ground harder against my cock. As her cunt jerked back and forth, I gripped her ass. My thighs tensed and I snarled as pleasure built at the base of my spine. Then I came. Thundering out a shout, I tucked my head into the female’s neck. Her skin was damp and warm. I pressed my cheek against her shoulder and breathed in her scent as her hands stroked over my head and through my hair.

I closed my eyes, calmed by her touch. Slowly, I wrapped my arms around her back, keeping her close.

My stomach fell when I thought of Master coming to take her away from me. I didn’t want to lose her.

I thought of the other females he owned and what he made them do. They would f*ck other males, several males at a time. He would make me f*ck them. Hard. Rough. Unleashed. He would try to make them cry. He would laugh. He wanted me to make them bleed.

The females wore no clothes and had their number tattooed on the back of their necks. I stiffened. Did this female have her number there, too? Was she forced to f*ck men, too?

Loosening my grip, I pulled back. I looked at the female’s face. Her eyes were confused. She bit her bottom lip. My gaze dropped to her smooth body, her pale skin. There were no marks, no numbers.

“Are … are you okay?” she asked softly. I frowned.

Why did she talk? Did she not fear Master’s punishments? I was forbidden to talk, never to raise my head, only to follow his commands and to kill.

I waited for the poison to return to my blood. I waited to feel pains in my stomach. I waited for the need to kill to overwhelm my body. But nothing happened.

No poison.

No pain.

No rage.

I didn’t understand what was happening to me. Nothing made sense.

“Please,” the female whispered, and shuffled back off my lap to bend down and look in my eyes, “are you okay?”

Gripping her arm, I spun her around and lifted her hair off her back. She let out a fearful cry when I did so, but I needed to see her number. Her neck came into view. There was no number. I searched her back, her arms, and her wrists. No number.

Confused, I sat back. Why didn’t she have a number?

The female turned to face me, her brown eyes wide. I stared at her. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to remember what the other females looked like. But I couldn’t remember their faces. Something stopped me from remembering. I remembered f*cking them. I remembered their numbers. But I couldn’t remember them … yet I remembered everything since I’d met her. Every part of her face, every strand of her long blond hair, every inch of her soft pale skin.