Devil’s Game (Reapers MC #3)(26)
Author: Joanna Wylde

Shit, I wanted his c**k inside.

“You hate me enough that you want me to stop? Because I’ll stop, Em. Just say the word.”

He stopped moving, and my hips pressed up at him, begging for more. God. There’s something wrong with me. Liam laughed again, then started licking his way down my stomach.

“How’s that, baby?” he asked, thumb starting to work my clit again. “Feel good being turned on by a Devil’s Jack?”

It felt f**king fantastic, but I’d be damned if I’d acknowledge the point. Apparently I didn’t need to, because he slid lower, tugging down my jeans and panties enough for his mouth to reach my cleft. He breathed softly on it for a second, then flicked his tongue over my most sensitive spot.

I squealed, my hips bucking. Liam laughed again.

“Tell you what,” he said. “You say the word, I’ll pull off those pants and throw your legs over my shoulders, show you just how much you’ve been missing.”

I stayed silent. He licked me again, pausing to tug on my clit with gentle suction.

“I hate you,” I said, but it came out as less of a declaration and more of a plea.

“Everyone hates me. But not everyone tastes as good as you, sweetheart. What’ll it be? We doing this or not?”

I wanted to tell him to f**k off. But a traitorous little voice in my head pointed out that the damage was already done . . . Why not enjoy it? I’d already made a fool of myself and nothing would change that.

“No sex,” I said.

“Define ‘sex,’” he replied, kissing my mound almost tenderly.

“No sticking your penis inside me.”

“I can work with that.”

Seconds later my pants were gone. Liam’s lips covered my pu**y and then I lost track of time. I’d had one other guy go down on me and I’d enjoyed it, but it was nothing compared to this devil’s tongue. He alternated between my clit and my lower lips, fingers deep inside me, playing me until I couldn’t even breathe, let alone talk. The first orgasm hit me hard and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming.

That’s where I expected it to end, but he just kept going until I couldn’t tell how much time had passed or even remember how many times I came. Heaven and hell, all rolled together and tied with a bow.

Make that a handcuff.

Then he pulled away with a groan to kneel over me, eyes feral with hunger.

“Roll over.”

HUNTER

Em surrounded me . . . Her taste, her smell, those little noises she made when she came. All of it washed through me, driving me crazy. I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life than I wanted to shove my c**k deep into her cunt. Ride her. Own her.

I couldn’t do it, though.

Not that I had any illusions—if I survived this little adventure, she’d never talk to me again. But I’d be damned if her first shot at real sex would come handcuffed to a bed in the middle of a club standoff.

But I’m no saint.

Staring down at Em’s heart-shaped ass, I knew I’d be pretty happy up inside there, too. Also not gonna happen. Those cheeks, though . . . I could make them work for me. I grabbed her hips and pulled her up onto her knees. She wavered unsteadily, so I grabbed a pillow and shoved it under her stomach. Then I ran my c**k along the crack of her rear, savoring the heat.

“No,” she said quickly, her voice panicked.

“Relax, babe,” I said. “No dick inside, remember? I promised.”

She stayed tense, though, as I pushed her ass cheeks together, cradling my c**k between them. When she tensed her muscles, they got even tighter, so I wasn’t about to complain.

Slowly I started sliding my c**k in and out, precome seeping from the head and smoothing my way perfectly.

“That feels incredible,” I muttered. She gave a little grunt, like she’d protest if she had the energy. Fortunately, I’d pretty much wiped her out already.

I picked up speed with each stroke, her tight heat making my dick impossibly harder. I stopped thinking, eyes focused on that Chinese squirrel symbol. Fuckin’ crazy girl. I felt my balls tighten and knew I was close.

Shit, this was like every  p**n  fantasy I’d ever had coming true.

Well, not quite true. Ideally I’d be inside her, but honestly . . . Her ass cheeks cradling my c**k felt better than any pu**y I’d ever f**ked. I guess that’s what happens when you find the perfect woman.

“Shit, babe,” I whispered. It pulled inside me, the terrible desire. Her slick heat surrounded me, her legs quivering beneath me. I felt all powerful and consumed with need.

Then it hit.

My head exploded into lights as my c**k blew out. I let her cheeks go and watched in utter fascination as my come covered her tattoo.

Christ, Em was a good lay.

I stayed there, running my hands up and down along her sides, soothing her for long moments. I heard a sniffle, and wondered if she was crying. Probably.

Then it was time.

I pulled away from her slowly, carefully, treasuring the sight of her lying there. I stood back and pulled on my jeans. Then I dug through the pocket to find my cell phone.

Damn . . .

I don’t know what was worse—what I was about to do, or how much I was looking forward to it. I turned it on and opened the camera app, coming up behind her and taking three great shots of her jizz-soaked ass.

“What’re you doing?” she murmured softly, stretching. I took action shots the whole time, wishing she’d roll over so I could get those tits.

“Saving the moment,” I told her absently. “Want something to show the boys back home. You look like a f**kin’  p**n  star. Think Daddy’ll want one of these?”

She tried to sit up but the cuffs caught her. Instead she fell heavily to the side—facing me, thank f**k—and I started taking pics of her tits and that sweet pu**y I could just see peeking out between her legs.

Her eyes met mine, full of sudden, horrific comprehension. This has to happen, I reminded myself.

Em screamed in wordless rage. Then she raised her legs and kicked the wall, the force of her anger driving the bed a good six inches across the floor. A mirror mounted over the dresser fell to the floor with the crash of shattering glass.

“You cocksucking bastard!” she shrieked.

I took one last shot, then turned off my camera. That should do it.

“Consider this a lesson why you shouldn’t trust strangers you meet on the Internet,” I told her, offering a nasty smile. “I’m gonna go get something to clean up the glass. Be a good girl while I’m gone—unless you want another lesson? I can do worse than pictures, you know.”