Joanna Wylde - Reaper’s Legacy

“It’d be easier if you’d shut the fuck up,” he said, eyes darkening.

“That’s what you want from me? Silence?” I demanded, feeling my temper rise. “Call me stupid, but it seemed like you wanted a hell of a lot more the other night. You can’t have it both ways, asshole. Either there’s something between us or I’m a free agent.”

Ruger pushed away from the counter, holding my gaze as he stalked across the kitchen.

“Oh, I can have it both ways,” he said. “You shouldn’t make assumptions about what I’m capable of, Soph. I’ll be nice and give you a heads-up what’s happening here. I want to fuck you.”

He rounded the kitchen island, prowling like the big cat tattooed on his hip. The kitchen felt smaller and smaller. I was all too aware of his bare chest, black ink rippling as he moved, and just how tightly controlled he kept his strength. Perhaps direct confrontation had been a mistake …

“That’s the thing about guys like me,” he continued, his voice low and smooth, eyes boring right through mine. “We don’t do what we’re supposed to. We take what we want. And me? I want all kinds of things. First I want to tie you up in my bed with my belt. Then I want to cut off your clothes and fuck you in every hole you have. I also want to come on you and rub it into your skin and lick your pussy until you scream at me to stop because if you come one more time you’ll die. Then I want to do it again. I want to own you, Sophie.”

He stopped beside my stool, so close the heat of his body engulfed me. I couldn’t even turn my head to look at him, frozen like a rabbit, his words turning over and over in my head. His scent surrounded me. I tried to breathe as he leaned in close, one arm braced on the counter, whispering in my ear.

“I want to own every part of you,” he continued, his breath hot against my skin. “I want to throw you face-first across this counter, rip off those shorts, and fuck you hard and fast until my goddamned cock stops hurting and my balls don’t feel like they’re gonna explode. Because they’ve felt that way for a helluva long time, Soph, and I’m startin’ to think it’s not gonna go away unless I do something about it.”

It took everything I had not to squeak in panic. Every part of my body tingled and I clenched my legs together tightly, putting pressure on my clit with every pulse of desire. Oh, that felt good. Not good enough, though, I needed more. My cheeks flushed and my breath came quick. I considered reaching down and shoving my hand into those half-fastened pants. Maybe discover for myself if Kimber had been telling the truth about his cock …

Ruger hadn’t even touched me.

He still wasn’t touching me. I bit back a moan.

“But that’s probably not a real good idea,” he added, his voice cooling as he pulled back. “We both know it. Not what Noah needs and a fuckin’ tar pit for you and me, too. But your idea about hooking up with one of my brothers? That keeps runnin’ through my head, Soph, and then I start thinking about shootin’ people. I don’t want to have to shoot anyone tomorrow, get me? Shitty way to end a party. Not to mention the prez might get frustrated, one of the local brothers loses it in public with the whole fuckin’ club here for a meet.”

Holy crap.

I nodded, chest tightening.

“So, all things considered, you might think about doing exactly what I say at that fuckin’ party,” he said, and while he phrased it like a suggestion, it was a straight-up order. “I get that you don’t want someone like me in your bed, not as a keeper. Don’t want things to get weirder than they are between us, either. But if you’re gonna screw a biker, Soph, I’m the only one you get. I won’t stand by and let you fuck one of my brothers.”

“I can’t believe you just said all that,” I whispered. “That’s wrong on so many levels. I don’t even know where to start.”

He considered me, eyes hard, voice cold.

“I don’t care if it’s wrong,” he said. “That’s the way it is. My house, my world, my rules. Tell me you understand and I’ll let you go to the party.”

“I’m an adult,” I managed to say, although my voice shook. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“And yet I’m doin’ it,” he returned, shrugging casually. “Do you really think I won’t enforce this? I’ll fuckin’ enforce it, Soph. Don’t test me.”

“I haven’t decided about the party,” I whispered. “But I’m done with this conversation. I’m going back downstairs.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, and that little, instinctive voice deep down inside me screaming to run finally won. I slid off the stool and made a break for the stairs. Big mistake, because Ruger caught me around the waist and lifted me up onto the kitchen bar, eyes blazing. Two seconds later he stepped in between my legs, one hand pulling me in tight and the other twisting through my hair, jerking my head back.

“Let me go,” I whispered. He cocked his head, as if considering the idea, then slowly shook it.

“I can’t,” he said. Then his lips covered mine and a fuse blew in my brain.

It wasn’t a polite kiss. It wasn’t slow and seductive and deeply meaningful. This was an explosion of pent-up lust … Years’ worth, to be honest. Ruger’s chest was like a concrete wall, and I wrapped my legs around his waist without a thought. His hand tightened in my hair, tilting my head to the side, giving him better access. His tongue was thrust deep and without mercy. The little ball in the center teased me, reminding me that sex with him would be different than anything I’d felt before. His cock pushed into my stomach so hard it almost hurt.

Holy hell, I wished we weren’t wearing so many clothes.

Ruger slid his hand into my tank, pulling his torso back just enough to cup my breast. His fingers found my nipple, tweaking it through the thin silk of my bra as I arched my back, desperate for more. He tore his mouth free, and we stared at each other, panting, mesmerized.

“We decided this is a bad idea,” I reminded him rather desperately, wondering how he’d feel if I just leaned forward and sucked on his lip. I couldn’t take my eyes off it, all dark red and glistening with a sheen of moisture from our kiss. “I’m not drunk today. No excuses.”

“You said you wanted to get laid,” he replied, pupils dark and full. “I’m here. It’s already all screwed up between us, so why not make the most of it? Damage is done, we’re totally fucked. I can’t forget how you tasted the other night, or how you felt on top of me on that couch. I need inside you, Soph.”

Oh, so tempting …

But could I keep messing around with Ruger and still live here? I’d lusted after him forever, and there was no question he wanted me. Then I thought about the woman who’d sat naked in this very kitchen just half an hour ago. The purple panties. The green bra … All in Ruger’s house, which was supposed to be Noah’s refuge.

Sleeping with Ruger was suicide.

I felt like banging my head against something hard, but only his chest was handy and getting closer to that expanse of bare skin was the last thing I needed.

“Bad idea,” I said. His fingers rolled my nipple. His other hand lowered to brace my hips as he rubbed the rigid length of his cock against my clit. That slow back-and-forth would only get better once he slid inside me.

I felt all wound up inside, almost dizzy. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more than I wanted him in my body.

Except a decent life for Noah.

“If we do this, you can just move along afterward,” I told him, closing my eyes. My sex clenched tight, desperate and empty. I tried to ignore it. “Who you sleep with is nothing to you, Ruger. But I’m different.”

“You’re the one who was talking friends with benefits,” he murmured. “Why’s your story changin’ now? Scared?”

“Hell yes, I’m scared,” I replied, opening my eyes again, searching his face. I saw no mercy or understanding there, just harsh, unyielding lust. “I live with you and I don’t have anywhere else to go. I found three pairs of panties in your couch cushions yesterday, and none of them were the same size. I don’t think I can sleep with you and then nod and smile while a parade of women passes through the house. Sounds like a pretty good reason not to do this.”

“Why the hell were you looking through my couch cushions?” he asked, and his hips stilled.

I’d caught him off guard with that one.

“I cleaned your house,” I replied. “Kind of a surprise-slash-thank-you-present. Your company last night pretty much took care of that, though.”

“Jesus,” he whispered, shaking his head slowly, hips starting to rock again. Oh, that was nice … His cock felt so good rubbing against my most sensitive spot. Could I come from just that, even with the fabric between us? “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t even know they were coming over. Don’t suppose that’s much of an excuse.”

I shrugged, unable to meet his gaze. I looked at his tattoos instead. Most of them were high quality, fanciful designs clearly put together by a true artist. He took his body art seriously, I realized. Ink wasn’t just a whim. I’d bet he had a story for each one, and I wanted to hear those stories far more than was healthy.

Ruger eyed me thoughtfully, rubbing the tip of my nipple with his finger in a slow circle. Then he took my hand and slid it down between us, pressing it against the length of his hard cock, the backs of his own fingers brushing my clit. I gasped and squirmed. My grip tightened, shaping him through the stiff fabric of his jeans. Even through the denim, I could tell he was big and broad, much bigger than my vibrator. Was that hard bump near the tip his …? I didn’t even know what to call it. I wanted to see it—to see all of him—so badly I could’ve died. His knuckles framed my clit and I moaned.