Page 67 of Daughters of Chaos

I rummage through my bag, seeing if there’s anything else I want to grab when I decide to leave, whenever that may be. Hell, with my newfound freedom, I may stay here all night. Fuck having a babysitter stalking me all day long.

The forgotten bottle of tequila in the kitchen is calling my name. I make it two steps before a loud pounding rattles the front door, making me nearly jump out of my skin.

What the fuck.

With my hand over my heart, I approach the door, grabbing the pocket knife from my side. It won’t do me much good if whoever is at the door has a gun, but it’s better than nothing. I inch toward the angry sound. I never locked the door behind Reaper when he left. Something I’m now kicking myself for.

What if it’s Dom or one of his cronies outside?Fuck.

I’m only feet away when the door bursts open, sending me stumbling back. I raise my knife, preparing for a fight, when I see the intruder glaring at me. Dark eyes and a familiar scowl hit me like a ton of bricks. I’m too shocked to move or speak as the hulking man comes barreling inside. He looks pissed as he slams the door behind him.

“You didn’t even lock the door when I left? Are you looking for trouble?” Reaper’s voice is gruff and angry as he seethes at me. “It could have been anyone outside trying to get in, and you would’ve served yourself on a platter for them.”

He’s right. When I heard the pounding on the door, he was the last person I expected to see behind it. But I’m not going to tell him that. In fact, fuck him for thinking he can lecture me about my poor choices in life—Mr. MC Enforcer. Pot, meet kettle.

Reaper is the last person on Earth I’d take life advice from. And now, he’s pissing me off again. I take a step closer, closing the distance between us. “Fuck you, Grim. I can take care of myself.”

Red flashes in his eyes as he spins me around, trapping me against the door and his hard body. Large hands cage me in, settling on either side of my head as Reaper leans close. “You think so, Princess?” His hot breath ghosts across my face as my chest heaves with every inhale.

I nod, licking my lips as I try to hold my ground. “That’s right,” I say with as much conviction as I can muster.

Heat floods my lower half when he moves closer, pressing his pelvis against me. “Right,” he says, “and if one of those scum bag Bastards was outside instead of me, you could handle that too, huh?”

My throat bobs as I swallow hard, trying to fight the urges his proximity has awoken in me. “Yeah,” I say, amassing all my self-control, hoping he can’t tell how weak he’s making me. “I’d handle that just fine.”

A low growl sounds deep inside his chest, rumbling through my veins like a mating call. I force my eyes to meet his, resisting the impulse to arch into him at the sound. Suddenly, he grabs my jaw, locking me in place as his fingers squeeze. It’s not forceful enough to bruise but enough to demand my attention. His grip screams he’s the one in charge, and for once, I don’t want to fight him.

Reaper’s chest presses against mine as he snarls, “You’re the mouthiest fucking brat I’ve ever met in my life. Someone should really shut you up.”

A thrill races through me at his words, and wetness pools between my legs. “You think so?” I reply. “Go ahead then, Big Guy, try to shut me up.”

It’s a challenge as much as it’s a command. And the fire in Reaper’s eyes tells me he's intrigued. Another growl rumbles inside him as his hand releases my face, moving to grip my hip instead. His other palm wraps around my neck as he forces me to meet his eyes.

My heart races, and my pussy throbs as I wait for his next move. The gruff enforcer holding me captive looks both enraged and ravenous as he pins me against the door. The hardening length in his pants gives him away as he pushes closer.

His eyes blaze as I open my mouth once more. “Go on, Reaper,” I taunt, “you think you’re man enough? Go ahead. Try to shut me up.”

I know what I’m doing, what I’m asking for, but is he man enough to take it?

My question is answered not half a second later as his mouth moves lightning-fast, connecting with mine in a mix of fury and passion. The kiss is forceful, furious, and dominant, making my knees weaken. I match his fervor, thrusting my tongue against his as we press even closer together.

Hands grip my ass, lifting me from the floor, and my legs wrap around his toned waist. My nails dig into his scalp as I lose myself in his taste.Fuuuuck, I’ve never been kissed like this before.

His lips are angry and strong and commanding. He doesn’t just kiss me. He fucking owns me, and for once in my life, I don’t give a damn what that implies. He can own me until the day I die if he keeps kissing me like this.

More. I need more, and if the stone-hard erection poking my hip is any indication, so does he. I tangle myself around him, begging for what I need, what we both crave. Instead of giving it to me, he pulls away, dropping my feet back on the floor.

I’m not proud of the whimper that comes from my mouth as he does, but hey, I have needs that aren’t being met. Before I can voice my objection, he kisses me again, hard, biting my lip as he pulls away.

“We’re going back to my place to finish this,” he tells me. “If the Bastards are looking for you, they’ll come here first, and I don’t want a bunch of those scumbags busting in while I’m balls deep in you.”

Well, fuck me.

I bite back my surprise, nodding my agreement as he shuffles us away from the door. Quickly, I grab my bag and bolt outsideas Reaper locks the door behind us. The anticipation of what else he has in store is almost enough to light me up.

If he fucks half as well as he kisses my pussy is in for a real treat. My girl thrums with excitement when Reaper fires up his bike. The vibration between my legs only increases my anticipation as my hands wrap around his waist. It’s so tempting to slip my hand inside his jeans and feel the size of what I’ll be working with as we speed down the empty streets.

It’s a strong effort to keep myself from doing that in the long minutes it takes to reach his house. Instead, I coast my fingers along the sinewy plains of his abdomen, appreciating the hard-earned muscles beneath his shirt. He tenses with my every movement, telling me he’s as amped as I am.

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