Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
My hand moves lower, pressing against the growing hardness in his jeans. Even through the denim, I can feel how ready he is for me, how much he wants this. I palm him slowly, deliberately, watching his face as his eyes flutter closed.
"Jesus," he gasps, his hips trying to push forward into my touch before he catches himself. "You're killing me here."
I increase the pressure, stroking him through the fabric until I can feel him getting harder, bigger beneath my palm. His breathing becomes more labored, small sounds escaping his lips that go straight to my core.
"Look at me," I command, and his eyes snap open, dark with desire. "Tell me what you want."
He swallows hard, his voice coming out strained. "You know what I want."
"Say it." I slow my movements, just barely touching him now. "Beg for it."
The word hangs between us, a challenge and a demand. I see the moment he surrenders completely, his pride dissolving into pure need.
"Please," he whispers, his voice breaking slightly. "I need your mouth on me. I need you to—" He groans as I press harder against him. "God, please, Adriana. I need your mouth on my cock."
The raw desperation in his voice sends liquid heat straight through me. This powerful, dangerous man is reduced to pleading in an alley because he wants me so badly he can't think straight.
I capture his mouth again, kissing him with renewed intensity, all teeth and tongue and possession. He responds eagerly, desperately, like he's drowning and I'm oxygen. When I finally pull away, we're both breathing hard.
Without breaking eye contact, I get on my knees before him.
The concrete is hard and cold. I reach for the buckle of his belt, spring it open with two flicks of my wrist, lower his pants, his underwear, take his cock in hand and give it the barest lick at the head, tasting a dribble of pre-cum against my tongue. He moans.
"Quiet," I command, my voice low and authoritative. "Don't make a sound unless I tell you to."
I take him deeper into my mouth, savoring the salt and heat of him, the way his entire body tenses as I work my tongue along his length. His breathing becomes ragged, small gasps escaping despite my order. I can feel him fighting the urge to move, to thrust, his muscles coiled tight with restraint.
The power I have over him right now is intoxicating. This man, who faces down Russian mobsters and Triad enforcers without flinching, is trembling under my touch, completely at my mercy. The jealousy that started this burns hotter, transforming into pure possession.
I pull back slowly, letting my lips drag along his shaft before releasing him completely. He makes a desperate sound, his hips jerking forward seeking contact.
"I said to be quiet," I remind him, looking up at him from my knees. His eyes are wild, pupils blown wide with need. "You don't get to make demands. You don't get to move. You take what I give you."
I return to my work, taking him deeper this time, establishing a rhythm that has him gasping above me.
His hands are still pressed against the brick wall, knuckles white with the effort of staying still.
I can see the war playing out across his face - the desperate need to grab my hair, to control the pace, warring with his desire to obey.
The image of him laughing with Yichen flashes through my mind again, and I suck harder, more possessively. Mine. He's mine, and I need him to understand that completely.
"Fuck," he breathes, the word barely audible. "Adriana, I’m going to — "
His hips buck forward involuntarily, pushing deeper into my mouth, and that's when I stop. Completely.
I pull away and deliver three sharp slaps to his cock, the sound echoing off the alley walls. He jerks back against the brick, eyes wide with shock and arousal.
"What did I tell you about moving?" My voice is ice cold, the same tone I used on suspects who thought they could lie to me. "What did I tell you about who's in control here?"
"I'm sorry, I — " he starts, but I cut him off with another slap.
"You're sorry?" I stand up slowly, my body pressed against his, my face inches from his. "You think being sorry fixes disobedience?"
The dominance coursing through me is unlike anything I've ever felt. In interrogation rooms, I was controlled, professional. This is primal, possessive, raw. I want to mark him, claim him, make sure he never forgets who he belongs to.
"You keep this up, and things are going to get rough," I warn him, my hand wrapping around his shaft with just enough pressure to make him gasp. "Is that what you want? You want me to stop being nice?"
His eyes flash with something dark and hungry. "Yes," he breathes. "I want you to stop being nice."
The admission sends heat flooding through me, pooling low in my belly. I can feel how wet I am, how my body is responding to having complete control over him. The power is intoxicating, but the need building inside me is becoming impossible to ignore.
"You want rough?" I grip him harder, watching his face contort with pleasure and pain. "You want to see what happens when I really take what's mine?"
Before he can answer, I'm already moving, my free hand working at the button of my pants. The urgency hits me like a freight train - I need him inside me, need to feel him surrender completely while I claim every inch of him.
My pants hit the concrete, followed immediately by my underwear. The cool air against my heated skin makes me gasp, but it's nothing compared to the fire burning through my veins.
“Fucking goddamn," Reaper groans, his eyes locked on my body. "Adriana, you're so fucking — "
"Shut up," I command, but my voice is breathier now, affected by my arousal. I lift one leg, wrapping it around his hip, using the wall behind him for leverage. "Don't say another word unless I tell you to."
I guide him to my entrance, feeling how slick and ready I am. The head of his cock presses against me, and we both shudder at the contact. For a moment, I pause, looking directly into his eyes.
"Mine," I whisper, then sink down onto him in one swift motion.
The sensation is overwhelming — the stretch, the fullness, the way he fills me completely. His mouth falls open in a silent cry, his hands still pressed against the brick even though every line of his body screams that he wants to grab me.
I move, riding him with slow, deliberate strokes. My leg wrapped around him gives me leverage, and I use it, setting a pace that has both of us breathing hard. Each movement sends shockwaves through me, building toward something explosive.
"Look at me," I demand, even though his eyes never left mine. "Watch me take what's mine."
The rhythm builds, my hips grinding against his as I chase the pressure building inside me. I can feel him trembling with the effort of staying still, of letting me control everything. His cock hits that perfect spot inside me with each thrust, and I know I'm close.
"Fuck, Adriana," he gasps, breaking his silence. "I can't—I need to—"
"No," I pant, my movements becoming more erratic as the orgasm builds. "You wait. You wait until I — "
I lose my words. Lose my thoughts. The climax hits me like lightning, tearing through my body with an intensity that makes my vision white out.
I cry out, my back arching, my grip on him tightening as waves of pleasure crash over me.
For a moment, I lose everything except the sense of being with him, connected to him, owning him.
My legs nearly give out as the aftershocks roll through me, my body trembling against his.
For a split second, I'm falling, my balance completely gone, but his hands finally leave the wall to catch me.
Strong arms wrap around my waist, holding me steady against him as I shake with the intensity of what just happened.
"I've got you," he murmurs against my ear, his voice rough with restraint.
The tenderness in his voice, the way he holds me so carefully even while he's buried inside me and desperate for his own release — it does something to my chest that I don't want to examine too closely.
I pull back to look at him, my breathing still ragged. His face is strained, every muscle in his body coiled tight as he fights for control. That he's holding back, waiting for my permission even now, sends another wave of heat through me.
"You belong to me," I tell him, my voice steady despite the way my heart is hammering. "You're mine. I'm yours. And you are going to come inside me. Got it?"
Something breaks in his expression — relief, surrender, pure need all crashing together.
"Yes," he breathes. "Fuck yes."
I move again, slower this time, deliberate. I watch his face as I ride him, memorizing every expression that crosses his features. The way his eyes flutter closed when I clench around him. The sharp intake of breath when I change the angle. The low groan that escapes when I whisper his name.
"That's it," I murmur, feeling him getting closer. "Let go for me."
His grip on my waist tightens, and I can feel him losing the battle with his control. His hips move with mine, small thrusts that tell me he's right on the edge.
"Adriana," he gasps, my name a prayer on his lips. "I'm going to — "
"Do it," I command. "Come for me. Now."
He breaks with a sound that's part growl, part moan, his body going rigid as he spills inside me. I feel him pulsing, feel the heat of his release, and it triggers another smaller climax that has me gasping against his shoulder.
For a long moment, we stay like that — pressed together against the brick wall, breathing hard, neither of us ready to break the connection. My leg is still wrapped around his hip, my face buried in his neck, inhaling the scent of sweat and sex and something uniquely him.
"Jesus," he finally whispers, his voice hoarse. "That was..."
"Mine," I finish, pulling back to look at him. "You're mine now. No more flirting with gangsters. No more making me wonder who else has your attention."
He studies my face, and I see something shift in his expression. Understanding, maybe. Or recognition.
"Were you really that jealous?" he asks, but there's no mockery there.
I shrug, suddenly uncomfortable, suddenly realizing how close we are, how connected, how badly I want this.
It’s so intense, so new — I’ve never wanted this connection with anyone before, not like this — but it feels so deeply right.
“Maybe I was. Maybe I just wanted a good reason to fuck you…” My voice trails off; even I can’t sell that bullshit.
I drag myself off of him, moaning a little at the sensation of his cock leaving me.
We’re close, so close, and I want it, but I don’t know how I really feel about it.
Am I doing the right thing, wanting to be so open, so close, to a man like Reaper?
I sigh. And he just watches me with those eyes that break through my defenses like jackhammers through concrete.
He knows.
Just like I know, and don’t want to say.
I sigh again, then throw my eyes to the alley. Anything for a break from these emotions.
“Come on,” I say. “We’d better get going. We have a lot of work to do before tomorrow night’s heist.”