Page 9 of Mercy for Reaper

“I’ll take care of you,” I rasp against her heated flesh, bringing my hands to her hips as I pull her to me and kiss her parted flesh. She jerks hard against me, and I look up, my eyes locking with hers as I slide my tongue through her wet valley. She sobs at the move, her eyes fluttering to a close as I bathe her pussy with long licks.

“Reaper . . . Oh, fuck.”

I press my fingers into her skin to hold her still as I slide my tongue wetly over her sex, moaning deeply as her flavor explodes on my tongue. She starts rocking her hips against my face, hesitantly at first before her moves grow restless. She sinks the fingers of one hand into my hair and starts pumping her hips over my hungry tongue. She cries out as she rides my face, coating my mouth and beard with her arousal.

My cock throbs desperately as I lap at her smooth skin and commit her taste to memory. She jerks against me when I stiffen my tongue and tease her swollen clit with fast strokes. Her pussy starts to quiver against my mouth, telling me she’s close to an orgasm, and the need to feel her explode above me grows. I close my lips around her swollen bud and apply light suction, slowly increasing the pressure until she’s practically sobbing for more.

“Reaper,” she whines, the sound of my name on her lips fueling me on. “Please!”

She orgasms with a scream, one that no doubt makes its way out of her home. She pulls my hair as she rides out her orgasm, falling apart beautifully above me, and all I can do is watch and revel in what a vision she is. Face flushed, tits heaving with every labored breath. I am tempted to pull her down onto my aching cock and make her ride me until I have planted a baby inside of her.

Her eyes are drowsy, and her breathing ragged as she lowers herself to the mattress next to me. I run my tongue over my lips, gathering the moisture she left behind even as my eyes drop to her puckered nipples.

“Take me out,” I say roughly, and she nods, her fingers shaky as she pulls the sheet away to reveal my throbbing dick. My head presses back into the pillows as her soft fingers close around my leaking cock.

“W-what do I do?” she asks, the innocence in her voice threatening to send me to the edge. I’m on a hair trigger at this point.

“Kiss me,” I demand, bringing my hand to her nape and pulling her mouth to mine with a rough groan. She whimpers into the kiss as I twist my lips hungrily against hers, letting her taste herself on my tongue. Her fingers tighten around my cock, and I break the kiss as my balls draw up. That’s all the warning I get before I coat her fingers with long streaks of white. I’m panting when my hand joins hers in working my cock, drawing out my orgasm and unloading the rest of my seed over our joined fingers. Stars explode behind my eyelids from the intensity of it.

My body slumps, boneless, as my climax eases, leaving behind a satisfied feeling in my chest that is soon overshadowed by a wave of exhaustion. “You’re beautiful, Holly,” I manage between breaths, cupping her jaw and pulling her down to lie beside me, the intimacy of the maneuver shocking me.

I don’t remember a time that I’ve ever been so intimate with someone. Sex is one thing, but this is something else. Usually, once orgasm is achieved, I want my space. But with Holly, everything feels different.

Mine.

I want to feel every inch of her body pressed against mine so tightly, I can’t tell where she ends and I begin. There is no me without her. Not anymore.

We lie in silence for a long time, and when she speaks, I am not surprised by her words. “I need to check your injury. I should—”

“How about a nap first,” I ask, my eyelids struggling to stay open. Although I don’t want to worry her, the burning sensation in my arm and the throb in my head are slowly making their presence known. But I don’t mind the pain.

For the first time since getting shot, I am glad it happened. Otherwise, I would never have met Holly.

The light in my otherwise dark world.

Chapter Five

Holly

Snap out of it, Holly!

No, seriously, I need to snap out of whatever delusion I’ve fallen into. This is not a normal reaction for someone who had their house broken into. A normal reaction would be to call the cops and come clean about everything, definitely not to house the man in my home.

Or sit in his lap . . . Or let him have his way with me.

Christ, the memory of what happened is eating at me. When Reaper—ridiculous name by the way—pulled me onto his lap, my brain short-circuited. Instead of punching him in the face like a normal person would, I just sat there. No, I did more than that. I rocked my hips against his erection like I was desperate for anything he was willing to give me.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve never done anything like that before. However pathetic I’ve felt still being a virgin at twenty-four, I don’t regret it for a second.

It didn’t matter to me that everyone around me was getting it on in high school and then college. I was buried deep in my books, and I used my studies as an excuse to not go out to parties or even date. The truth I was scared to admit to my friends is that I am a hopeless romantic. That I have been waiting for the one.

It’s dumb, I know, but I can’t help that I was raised by a romantic.

My aunt took me in when my parents found work overseas. It was supposed to be a short arrangement until I could join them later, but as time went by, I grew closer to my aunt, then I refused to leave her behind after the death of her beloved husband. It strained my relationship with my parents, but I had Aunt Meg. She was a hopeless romantic at heart and taught me not to settle for anything less than the great love she’d had with my uncle.

I wanted that.

However unrealistic it seemed out in the real world, I still held hope that I would find my soulmate.

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