Page 37 of Breaker

My thighs bracket his hips, knees digging into the fabric of the couch beneath him. The heat of his skin against mine makes me whimper.His breath fans over my face. Suede and male and smokey sweetness. I feel him moving into me, warm fingers gripping my ass, guiding me up and down, hips jutting upwards to meet me. He drives in slow at first then faster, thrusting deeper. I rock my hips to match the pace he’s set, moaning as he hits in deep.

There’sa flash of a scar over his eye, but it fades and it’s just black lashes around deep black pools of ink reflecting the light in the room.

Fangs for teeth, the canines elongated and curved like they hold venom.

Pale blue eyes rake over me with such want my walls clench around him.

Two deep lines over plush lips, but then I notice the stitching around the square, masculine jaw. Like someone sewed his flesh back together.

“Does it hurt?” I ask him as he slips deeply into me.

“It did at first. But I got used to the pain,” he whispers. “I like it now. It reminds me of you.”

Long fingers covered in tattoos claw at the seams around his jaw. The skin pops, blood oozing down the thick column of his neck.

“No,” I gasp. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Don’t worry, Kitten. I don’t need this face.” His fingers dig into my cheeks as he fucks me deeper. Harder. “I’ll just take yours. It’s mine after all.”

I sit up gasping, and my eyes land on him. A scream peels out of me but fades quickly.

He lounges in the chair, legs splayed confidently, fingers drumming a silent rhythm on his thigh, saturating the room with his dominant air. Bright sunlight casts long shadows across him, the thin squares of the window panes creating geometric patterns of light and shadow over his black shirt and mask.

He shifts slightly in his seat, letting me know he’s been there a while. “Nightmares again?”

I suck in a breath, blinking, the last dregs of the dream fading.

His black eyes fall from my face to my body. I glance down. My nightgown rode up in my sleep, sticking to my belly, showing my white underwear and where my hand slipped between my thighs as I slept.

“Or dreaming of us?”

I grit my teeth, sliding my hand out of my underwear, looking around the room. It’s hot as hell in here and I notice theslight pop of the furnace and the fire blazing in the hearth. How did they light it while I slept? And how long was I asleep?

Viper left me in his room last night and I slinked back to my room, and hid in my bed, crying myself to sleep. This is the first time I’ve seen Reaper since he left me tied to his bed. My cheeks heat at the idea that Viper may have told them how I begged to be fucked.

Tossing the thought aside, I pull my nightgown down over my sticky thighs, kicking away the rest of the blankets, then place a foot on the cool floor.

“It’s hot in here,” I say, noticing by the slant of the sun, it’s late afternoon, and I slept most of the day away.

“First she’s too cold. Now she’s too hot,” Reaper says. “Make up your mind, Kitten.”

I glare at him, walking to the furnace and find it turned all the way up. I lower the setting, then face him, my belly fluttering. It doesn’t matter his uniform is plain black, it’s how he wears it that makes it so unbelievably sexy, and I can’t help but soak in the sight of him. Clothes seem to embrace him, each fabric fiber clinging possessively to his chiseled muscles, emphasizing every bulge and curve. I want to sink my teeth into him. Hurt him a little as payback for this constant want that lives inside me now.

But I think I already hurt him.

There’s a part of me that wants to apologize for my comment yesterday, but then I spot the gun propped on his knee under his large hand, and all thoughts fade. It doesn’t go unnoticed that he’s wearing his gloves. Besides a knife strapped to Viper and Breaker’s belts, none of the men have carried any weapons. It makes me realize now how strategic they’ve been. Reaper has never once worn a single weapon, and I can’t recall Striker wearing any either, making me think they never wanted us to feel like they were a real danger.

Then again their sheer size and the force emanating from them means they don’t need any weapons. They are one.

I gesture to the pistol. “Didn’t realize I pissed you off to the point of murdering me.”

“That would be too easy, Kitten.” That fucking smirk makes his mouth move under his mask. “And a waste,” he adds, eyes moving all over me. “I need you to complete this mission, so killing you will do me no good.”

I shoot him a sardonic smile. “Nice to know I’m useful for something other than fucking when the mood strikes.”

He stands upright, gun still in hand, but down at his side as he stalks forward, each step precise and rigid. I back up but hit the cool metal railing of the footboard. Reaper stops inches from me, invading all my senses with smoke and cedar and power, making the dream resurface. He leans in, angling his head to the side to keep my gaze as he rests his hands on the railing on either side of me, effectively trapping me in place.

Onyx eyes drag from my lips, down my neck and slip with such heat over my collar bone to the thin straps of my nightgown it feels like he’s dragging warm fingers over my flesh. A hot breath caresses my ear. “If all I wanted you for was a rough fuck, then you’d still be tied to my bed, legs spread eagle, cunt on display and ready for me right now.”

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