Page 51 of Keep Me

Reggie

I feel it. His heart. In the air. In his words. But I want to feel him.

I let go of his cock to frantically tug and pull his shirt. I need to feel the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart, anything to assure me he’s alive, that he’s here and not growing cold and lifeless on that godforsaken stage.

He pulls my hands away, and I think I might die.

“Please. Please.” Tears I still don’t understand spring back up, my eyes stinging.

“You can make your demands once you meet mine.” His voice is somehow both stone cold and raging with heat. I feel like screaming, confused and so hot I’m burning up. “Come for me, little menace. Show me what a good little whore you are and come on my gun.”

I understand now and flip my dress up, reaching between my thighs. The rough shape and hard edges of his gun scrape against my G-spot in the most uniquely delicious and dangerous way. As soon as my fingers meet my clit, tension coils like a flaming rope in my core.

“Oh, god—” I moan. “I’m gonna co—oh fuck, fuck—” I dig my heels into the sides of the desk, my pussy squeezing around the metal.

A wicked smirk dances across his lips. “Next time you think about putting yourself in danger, fucking anyone else for any reason, remember this moment.” A cry is torn from my lungs as my muscles contract, painfully yet blissfully, in rapture. “Remember how nobody can make you shatter like I can. On my tongue, my fingers, my cock. Even on my fucking gun.”

Tears spill as my climax pulses through me. Roan sees them, but doesn’t stop fucking me until my orgasm is done wrecking me. I wince as he withdraws the weapon, my nerves heightened and raw. He raises the gun, and my stomach knots at the sight of my release coating it.

He brings it closer to my face, and I go completely still, holding my breath. His head cocks to the side as if struck by a sick curiosity. He tenderly uses the wet muzzle to wipe away my tears on one cheek, replacing it with the evidence of my own depraved lust.

He leans closer and licks the trail from my cheek to whisper in my ear. “I like the way your fear tastes.”

He stands back and steps out of his jeans, handing himself over to me now. I toy with the hem of his shirt, hypnotized by the way his breath seems to get rigid and tight each time my fingers brush his skin.

Don’t think for a second that you don’t have total power over me.

He called me out for thinking I’m tough, but I’ve never seen a bigger lie than him trying to remain unaffected as I glide my hands up his sides, pushing up his shirt. He raises his arms for me with a shuddering breath, and I pull the material over his head.

I take in his beaten body with a heavy swallow, brushing my fingertips over the swells of purple and blue. “Do you think they’re broken?” I ask, lightly dusting over his ribs.

“Maybe.” He rolls one shoulder in a half shrug. “Probably.”

I look from his mottled skin to his hard erection. “Can you still…”

“Fuck you?” He lifts a brow. “Turn around and find out.”

My heart beats a little faster as I turn around. I rest my palms on the desk, back arching slightly as I bend over. His hand grips the back of my neck and pushes me flat against the hard surface.

He flips my dress over my ass and circles my exposed cheek with his palm. The movement is too slow, too gentle, and it puts me on edge, waiting for a sharp slap or strike. I can’t help the shaky exhale I release as his dick slides between my legs. “Oh fuck…” Anticipation grips me.

He laughs. “Scared?”

I shake my head as much as I can with my cheek pinned to the desk. He finds my entrance with his thick head, and I clutch the air in my lungs.

“You should be,” he says darkly as he thrusts fiercely into me with a grunt. The breath I’d been holding comes out as a breathy moan.

He sets a ruthless pace, the desk squeaking and banging against the wall. He has me pressed so firmly over the desk that I’m constantly in a state of breathlessness. Grabbing one of my wrists, he pins it behind my back and uses it for leverage to fuck me harder and deeper with each punch of his hips. His other hand is still heavy on the back of my head, fingers fisting in my hair. With each thrust, he groans roughly in a mixture of ecstasy and pain.

He fucks like he fights—for something past the point of brutality or victory. His goal isn’t to simply win, it’s to completely dominate. He possesses my body with the same mercilessness and unrelenting determination he had when swinging that axe.

Suddenly he’s releasing my wrist and using his fingers tangled in my hair to lift me up and twist my head to look back at him. “Eyes on me. Watch me fill you up.”

I plant my hands on the desk and watch his abs ripple and contract as he pounds into me. His grunts become pained and choppy. “Fuh—Fuh—” He snaps his hips one last time, burying himself deep inside me. “Fuuckk.”

His hands fall to my hips, and he rests his forehead between my shoulder blades. “Thank you,” he sighs, so quietly I almost don’t hear it.

He presses a soft brush of his lips to my skin, then trails a hand down my spine. “Stay.”

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