Joanna Wylde - Reaper’s Legacy

I heard the music from the party in the background, the sounds of people laughing and talking, but here in the cool darkness of the shop it felt like our own separate world. Ruger surrounded me with his smell and strength and the sheer, vibrant energy that defined him as a man overwhelming my senses.

No one got to me like he did.

He pulled me away from the van, carrying me across the shop without pausing in his attentions to my neck. I found myself laid back on the counter behind the panel truck, Ruger’s body covering my own. My hands clutching his head as he kissed down my throat, pausing every few seconds to suck, his fingers reaching between my legs to rub slowly up and down along the inside of my thigh.

I’d worn a black T-shirt with a V-neck, which proved no barrier to him at all. Ruger tugged the shirt up and flicked open the front clasp on my bra with disturbing speed. Then his mouth sucked in my nipple—the hard metal ball in his tongue almost painful—and my back arched up off the counter.

The hand between my legs unzipped my fly, and he lifted my hips just enough to slide off my cutoffs and panties. I felt the cool metal of the counter on my bare ass as Ruger’s roughened fingers rubbed up and down along my clit.

“Holy shit, that feels good,” I muttered, trying to wrap my brain around everything he’d said. This wasn’t the plan, not even a little bit. For one, I hadn’t planned on unpacking and sharing all that old baggage about Zach. Not now, not ever. The girls had told me to confront Ruger directly, set out my requirements and then stand up for myself.

Instead he gave the orders and I melted like a damned puddle all over a dirty bench in a shop.

What if someone walked in on us?

I’d opened my mouth to protest when Ruger pulled away from my breast, shoving his fingers into me hard at the same time. He dropped to his knees, lips finding my clit, and my brain shorted out completely.

His tongue flicked over my most sensitive spot, teasing me with the unholy combination of his soft tongue and that hard metal ball. Throw in the steady suction of his mouth and it was nearly enough to send me over the edge. Then his finger pressed deep, finding that perfect spot on my inside wall, sending shudders racking through my body. He kept up a steady pressure, rubbing back and forth as his tongue drove me slowly insane.

Then Ruger pulled away long enough to say, “Play with your tits.”

It didn’t occur to me to argue.

I moaned and reached up, taking my nipples and rolling them between my fingers, pinching and tugging like he’d done the morning before. I’d held out against him then—I’d put Noah first, because any relationship between me and Ruger would be a disaster, and the fallout could leave us homeless again.

This time I wasn’t strong enough to say no.

There’s only so much self-control any woman can call upon before she melts. Mine was officially used up. Those fingers of his, rubbing across my G-spot, placing a strange, terrible pressure on me from within … That flicking tongue with its hard little knob … The strength of his shoulders as they supported my draped knees …

I wanted to squirm and kick and push against him. Instead, Ruger took his free hand and held it down across my stomach, controlling me. He drew me to the brink three times, utterly sadistic, and I hated him when he pulled away to catch his breath. Then I heard voices in the distance and reality broke through my haze.

There were people around—lots of people.

People who could walk into this shop at any minute. It didn’t even have a door. I opened my mouth to tell Ruger we needed to stop, but he chose that exact instant to suck me in again, hard, plunging his fingers deep. Instead of protesting, I felt my back arch as I exploded in a deep climax, trying my hardest not to scream, with mixed results.

Ruger stood up slowly between my legs, running his hands along my body, from my breasts to my thighs, eyes full of dark satisfaction. I lay there, almost dizzy as he leaned over and caught my hands. He pulled them tightly over my head, whipping out his belt and wrapping it quickly around my wrists, securing them to something behind me.

The whole process took about thirty seconds—Ruger was a little too proficient at tying someone up for my comfort. I tugged my wrists, realizing it wasn’t just for show. He had me. Completely. My eyes widened. Ruger gave me a hard, feral smile as he unzipped his fly.

“Yeah, you’re mine now,” he muttered. “Don’t come until I say you can.”

I heard more voices, turning my head to look for them. Were they in the shop? I opened my mouth to protest, but Ruger reached up and put a finger over my mouth.

“Don’t start with me, Soph,” he said, his voice low and merciless. His hands reached down between us and then I felt the head of his cock rubbing up and down along my clit, slow and deadly. Holy shit. Kimber hadn’t been lying—there was definitely something metal down there and it felt fucking fantastic.

Given that I’d already come, you’d think Ruger would be in rougher shape than me. Instead I found myself super-sensitized. If I’d thought his fingers felt good, they had nothing on his cock sliding along my clit. He teased me until I hovered right at the edge again, eyes fixed on the hoist hanging from the ceiling. Then he leaned down, sucking my nipple in so hard it almost hurt, and sensation burst through me. I tried to wiggle my sex against his cock, but he held me pinned and immobile.

“You don’t come until I say,” he repeated, letting my nipple slide free, giving it a quick lick. “We clear?”

I nodded.

“Look at me,” Ruger demanded. I did, finding his face full of grim satisfaction. He slid his cock up and down my clit again, one, two, three times. I grew wetter with every pass and for the life of me I couldn’t remember why I’d been against this.

Then he centered his cock on my opening and pushed it in.

RUGER

He slid his cock into Sophie’s sweet pussy as slowly as possible, savoring every inch. She was fuckin’ tight, like a clamp around his dick, the tug at his barbell making things just that much better. He could actually feel her heartbeat. If he didn’t know for a fact she’d given birth to a child, he’d think she was a goddamned virgin—hot and swollen and perfect.

Maybe he should’ve felt guilty, taking her like this.

She was all worked up emotionally, and vulnerable as hell. Understandable. Her little confession about Zach had floored him. He still couldn’t believe he’d been so blind, but he’d already decided one thing.

Next time he saw his stepbrother, he’d kill him.

As for Sophie … He’d fucked up by not keeping a closer eye on her and Zach, and fucked up even worse by letting the law step in to fix the problem. He hadn’t been ready to admit Sophie was his responsibility four years ago, despite what’d happened between them at Noah’s birth. He’d spent too long playing the good uncle, ignoring what he felt because he knew it wasn’t the best thing for her. She deserved to be free, and who was he to take that away from her?

Well, fuck that.

He was a jealous asshole, 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 fuck 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 fuck, 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 fuck.

Sophie stared at him with wide eyes, panting so hard her tits practically danced. It was fucking 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 fuckin’ 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 fuck had he been thinking, missing out on this? “Blow around me, show me what that sweet pussy 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 fucking her—although fucking 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 pussy 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 fucking 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 fuck, 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 fuckin’ 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.