Page 26 of War

Bucking his hips, his girth pushes me to my limit, causing a delicious bite of pain.I feel him under my skin and deep in my soul.My heart flutters.My skin begs for his touch.My hands explore him with a mind of their own, the pads of my fingers brushing over his taunt, soft skin.

“Take my dick, Rogue.Grind your pussy on me.”

Warmth builds in my stomach, traveling to my chest and expanding up my neck, heating my cheeks.His moan against my lips curls my toes and unfurls all my senses, overwhelming me with pleasure and silencing all thoughts until I’m nothing more than sensation.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Rogue.Your pussy’s squeezing my dick—so tight—so fucking good.”

“Your cock is so big; you’re going to make me cum.”His large frame pins me in place as he fucks me into submission.It feels almost forbidden, like I’ve unlocked a secret meant only for the gods.My entire body tingles as he powers his hips into me, his teeth claiming my neck.

“Play with your clit, Rogue.Show me how you make yourself cum.”My hand slips between our bodies to the heat of my pussy, and I tease my clit while he watches.The raw emotion in his eyes tips me over the edge as his fingers curl around mine and we stroke together.My body clenches around him once more, consuming me with an intense orgasm.We stay glued together, his eyes fastened on his cock sliding in and out of me, coated in my juices.

“Give me every inch,” I pant.His length punishing me.“Fuck me, Callan—just like that.”I moan, my pussy pulsing around him as I bounce on his dick.“You’re making me cum so hard,” I cry out.An animalistic growl claws up his throat as his seed pumps into me.Nothing exists, only our pleasure as we fall over the edge.

Lowering me onto my shaky legs, he kisses me like he has the power to grant life or take it away.

I’d allow him to do either.

“You’re perfect.”He strokes his thumb over my bottom lip.

“I love your cock,” I murmur, and he spurts out a contagious chuckle.

A crack pierces the air, jolting me to the present.The gunshot signals the end of Edward Jarvis, the Blind Date Killer.

“Come on.”Callan grabs us towels from a stack across the room and wraps one around me before himself.

“We have spare clothes here, but they may be a bit big on you.”

Dusting his hands over his body with the towel, he opens a cabinet, pulling out sealed sweatpants and shirts.

“What will you do with him?”I ask, taking the clothes from him and tearing the bags open.

“We have an incinerator.”Of course they do.“Your clothes will be going in there too.I’m sorry.I know I owe you a whole new closet by now.”He pulls the sweats up his legs.We look like convicts being inducted into prison life.The sweats drown me, but I’m not here to make a fashion statement.

Footsteps enter the room, tapping against the tiles.“Oh, sorry—I didn’t think you’d still be here,” Monster announces, stark naked, covered head to toe in blood, the hair surrounding his face soaked in crimson.

“We’re just leaving,” Callan informs him, as I stand there struck silent.What the hell did he do, eat him?

“He didn’t give it up.If he killed her, he’s taken the facts to the underworld.”

What if it wasn’t him?

Then we keep going until we find him.Callan’s words buzz through my mind.

“Thank you, either way.For everything,” I say, finding my tongue.

“You’re one of us.A sin against one is a sin against all.We’ll find this fucker,” he promises before turning to the showers and blasting the one Callan and I just exited.Intertwining our fingers, Callan leads me back through the outhouse to his bike.

The sky turns dark and angry, heaven denying the killer entry.A chirping comes from Callan’s saddle bag.Shifting through the leather, he pulls his phone out and frowns, answering the call.

“What is it?”Whispers catch in the wind, the trees hissing as thunder booms in the sky.Rain begins pelting down on us, the sky darkening further.A cold chill settles in my bones as Callan stares at me, his lips parting.“I’ll be right there.”Water cascades down on us, and I shiver at the intensity of it.

Something haunts his face that has me reaching for him.“What is it?”I ask, my lips trembling.

“It’s my dad.”A crease mars his brow.“He’s awake.”

CHAPTER8

AWAKE

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