Chapter Twenty-Three #2
My hands fist the sheets as he continues this exquisite torture. Every nerve ending is on fire, my body coiled so tight I feel like I might shatter. When he finally, finally lets his lips brush against my center, it's so gentle I can barely feel it.
"More," I plead, my voice breaking.
But he just continues those feather-light touches, his breath hot against my wetness, building the pressure inside me to an unbearable peak. I'm shaking now, my entire body trembling with the force of my need.
"I can't fucking wait anymore," I growl, my control finally snapping. My hands shoot down to grab the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair as I pull his face against me. "Eat it."
The command comes out rough and demanding, and I feel him smile against my flesh before his tongue finally, blessedly, gives me what I've been begging for.
His tongue moves against me with a skill that makes my back arch off the bed.
The first actual contact sends lightning through my entire nervous system, and I can't suppress the moan that tears from my throat.
He's relentless now, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention that has me gasping his name.
"Fuck yes," I breathe, my grip tightening in his hair.
He responds by increasing the pressure, his tongue working me with an intensity that borders on overwhelming.
Every nerve ending is screaming, my body coiling tighter and tighter as he drives me toward the edge.
The sounds I'm making are desperate, needy, but I'm beyond caring about control or composure.
His hands grip my thighs, holding me steady as I writhe beneath him. When he focuses on that perfect spot, I see stars behind my closed eyelids. The pressure builds and builds until I'm trembling violently, right on the precipice.
"Don't stop," I gasp, my voice barely recognizable. "Don't you dare fucking stop."
He doesn't. His tongue works me with devastating precision, pushing me higher and higher until I shatter completely. The orgasm rips through me like wildfire, every muscle in my body contracting as pleasure crashes over me in waves.
"Reaper!" His name tears from my throat in a scream that echoes off the walls.
My vision goes white, then swirls with colors that don't exist. My body pulses with aftershocks, each one sending fresh waves of sensation through me. I collapse back against the mattress, completely spent, my chest heaving as I try to remember how to breathe.
A smile spreads across my face without my permission — the first genuine smile I've felt in months.
My body still thrums with residual pleasure, skin hypersensitive and flushed.
When I finally open my eyes, I find him watching me with those magnetic eyes, his lips glistening with evidence of what he's just done to me.
"You remember that time when you stuck your cock in my face?" I say, my voice still rough from screaming. "Do it again."
His pupils dilate at my words, and I watch his throat work as he swallows hard. Without hesitation, he moves up my body with predatory grace, positioning himself exactly where I want him.
"You sure?" he asks, but I can see the hunger burning in his eyes. He wants it, even if he can hardly believe this is happening.
I smile again. I want his cock, and I want to see the look on his face when I get my mouth around it. He doesn’t know what he’s in for.
Instead of answering, I reach for him, my fingers wrapping around his length. He's already hard, and the feel of him in my hands sends another pulse of heat through my still-sensitive body. I guide him closer, my lips parting in anticipation.
The taste of him on my tongue is intoxicating, and I lose myself worshipping him the way he just worshipped me.
I take my time with him, just like he did with me. My tongue traces patterns along his length while my lips provide gentle suction, building the tension slowly. I can feel him trembling beneath my touch, his breathing becoming more ragged with each deliberate movement of my mouth.
"Adriana," he groans, his hands fisting in the sheets.
I pull back slightly, letting my breath ghost over his heated skin before taking him deeper.
The control I have over him right now is intoxicating — watching him fight to maintain composure while I systematically destroy it with my mouth.
His hips move involuntarily, seeking more contact, but I keep the pace torturously slow.
When I glance up at him through my lashes, his head is thrown back, jaw clenched tight. The sight of him losing himself in what I'm doing sends another surge of heat through me. I increase the pressure slightly, swirling my tongue in ways that make him curse under his breath.
But halfway through my careful teasing, my need becomes too much to ignore. The ache between my thighs is demanding attention, and I can't wait any longer to feel him inside me.
I release him from my mouth and push myself up, fixing him with a commanding stare. "Lie back. Now."
He blinks at me, still dazed from what I was doing to him. "What?"
"You heard me. Get on your back so I can ride your cock."
He hesitates for just a moment too long, and something snaps inside me. My hand comes down with a sharp slap against his length, and the sound echoes in the room.
Sometimes, I’m not a very patient person.
“Don't make me wait any longer," I growl, my voice carrying all the authority from my years in law enforcement. "You won't like the consequences."
A chuckle escapes his lips, but I immediately shove my finger in his face, cutting him off.
"I'm not kidding. I will beat your beautiful dick until it’s black and blue. Get on your back so I can ride your cock."
The laughter dies in his throat as he sees the deadly serious expression on my face. His eyes widen slightly, and I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows hard.
"Yes, ma'am," he says quietly, immediately shifting to comply with my demand.
The moment he's flat on his back, I'm moving. I straddle his hips in one fluid motion, positioning myself over him. The anticipation is killing me — I need him inside me right now, need to feel that perfect stretch and fullness.
I reach down to guide him to my entrance, and we both gasp at the first contact. I'm so wet from earlier that he slides in easily as I lower myself onto him, taking him inch by perfect inch until he's buried completely inside me.
"Fuck," I breathe, my head falling back as I adjust to the sensation of being so filled. “Fuck me, this is good.”
The feeling is indescribable — like coming home after being lost for years. Every nerve ending in my body lights up as I move, rolling my hips in slow circles that draw moans from both of us. His hands find my waist, fingers digging into my skin as I establish a rhythm that has us both gasping.
I lean forward, bracing my hands on his chest as I pick up the pace.
The angle hits something perfect inside me, and I can't suppress the cry that tears from my throat.
His eyes are locked on mine, dark with desire and something deeper — a connection I haven't felt in so long I'd forgotten it existed.
"Fuck, Adriana," he breathes, his voice strained. "You feel incredible."
The praise sends heat spiraling through me, and I move faster, chasing the building pressure. For the first time in months, maybe years, I feel completely alive. Not the controlled ex-cop, not the grieving sister — just a woman taking what she needs, feeling everything she's been denying herself.
My body tightens around him as another orgasm builds, different from the first — deeper, more intense. I can feel it gathering in my core like a storm, threatening to tear me apart in the best possible way.
I look down into those magnetic eyes, seeing my desperation reflected there, and suddenly I know exactly what I need.
"I'm getting off," I gasp, already lifting myself away from him despite the protest of my body. "I want you to fuck me from behind."
His eyes widen, pupils blown with desire. "Adriana…"
"No," I cut him off, turning onto my hands and knees, presenting myself to him.
I look back over my shoulder, meeting his stunned gaze.
"I want you to use my body. Fuck me like you hate me.
I want to scream — I want you to fuck me so hard I can't think about anything else. Take me. Fuck me. Use me."
The vulnerability in my own words should terrify me, but instead it's liberating. I'm tired of being in control, tired of carrying everything alone. I want to be overwhelmed, consumed, fucked into oblivion where nothing exists except sensation.
His hands are on me immediately, gripping my hips with a possessiveness that makes me whimper. When he thrusts into me from this angle, it's so deep I see stars.
"Like this?" he growls, his voice rough with barely contained restraint.
"Harder," I demand, pushing back against him. "Don't you dare hold back."
Something snaps within him at my words. His grip tightens, and he moves with a force that steals my breath. Each thrust drives me forward, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room along with my increasingly desperate cries.
This is what I needed — to be taken, claimed, fucked until I can't remember my own name. The building orgasm threatens to tear me apart, and I welcome it completely.
The pressure builds inside me with each powerful thrust, my body coiling tighter and tighter like a spring about to snap.
I can feel every inch of him as he drives into me, the angle hitting spots that make me gasp and claw at the sheets.
My vision blurs at the edges as the sensation becomes overwhelming.
I turn my head to look back at him over my shoulder, my hair falling across my face. His eyes are dark with concentration and desire, jaw clenched as he moves with that perfect rhythm that's driving me to the brink.
"I'm going to come," I gasp, my voice breaking on the words. "Fuck, Reaper, I'm going to come because of you."
His grip on my hips tightens, and I see something shift in his expression — raw need mixed with something deeper, more primal.
“When you come," I continue breathlessly, my words tumbling out between his thrusts, "I want you to come inside me. I want to feel your cock release inside me, feel every drop of your come in my pussy."
The words seem to unleash something in both of us. His movements become more urgent, more desperate, and the coil inside me finally snaps.
The orgasm tears through me like lightning, every muscle in my body contracting as waves of pleasure crash over me. My vision goes white, then explodes into colors, and I scream his name so loud I'm sure the entire building can hear me.
"REAPER!"
My body shakes violently as the intensity overwhelms every sense. I feel him pulse inside me, his own release triggered by mine, and the sensation of his warmth filling me sends another wave of pleasure through my already over-sensitized body.
He groans my name, his voice rough and broken as he spills inside me. I can feel every pulse, every drop, just like I wanted. The intimacy, the complete surrender we've both given to this moment, hits me harder than any physical sensation.
We collapse together, both of us shaking and gasping for air. He pulls me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me as we try to catch our breath. I can feel his heart hammering against my back, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
For several long minutes, we just lie there in the aftermath, our bodies still joined, still trembling with residual pleasure. The room settles into quiet, the silence full of everything we can't quite put into words yet.
When he finally speaks, his voice is soft against my ear. "Are you okay?"
I turn in his arms to face him, studying those bright eyes that seem to see straight through me. There's vulnerability there now, mixed with satisfaction and something that might be wonder.
"More than okay," I say, surprised by the truth of it. “I’m glad you came into the room.”
“I am, too.”
I kiss him once more. Slow, gentle, in a way that feels more raw and real than anything we did earlier.
It’s a kiss that frightens me to my core, and when I pull back, it’s hard to even look in his eyes, despite how mesmerizing they are; I’m scared to see myself in their reflection, scared to see how open and vulnerable I feel with him.
There are feelings roiling in my chest that frighten me with how new, how foreign, how impossible they should be to feel with a man like Reaper, and yet, I feel them.
“What are you thinking?” He says.
I can’t tell him. I don’t even want to say them aloud because that would make them more real.
I fake a yawn. Well, halfway fake; I’ve just been fucked into oblivion and my body is coming down from some orgasmic cloud above heaven, so halfway through my fake yawn, it turns real.
“I think I need to go to sleep,” I say. Then I shut my eyes and let him put his arms around me, pulling me against his chest, while I wait for sleep to take me.
Then another thought comes to me. It grips me as tight and consuming as the embrace of the man that I once thought killed my sister, the man who I just fucked.
I’d better be right about you, Reaper.