Page 63 of Wicked

“I-I . . . Something’s happening, Ryker,” she stammers.

“I’m gonna make you come, sweetheart. Hang on tight.”

She hangs on to me with her arms and her legs. I slip my big paws under her high and tight ass. Jesus, her ass is sexy. Round. Smooth. A perfect fit in my palms.

I thrust and pound. The sound of smacking skin resounds in the room. Her head goes side to side. Her nails dig into my flesh. Her pouty mouth parts. She closes her eyes, and her full-on body tremble reverberates against mine. I can’t hold back. I rock my hips. One. Two. On the third thrust, I shoot my load, coming with a whoosh from my lungs, and a, “Fuuuck,” from my douchebag mouth.

I keep my weight and sweat-slicken hulking body off her with my hands alongside her head, but Harper isn’t having it. She pulls me on top of her, and what she whispers in my ear cements what I feel for her.

“I want you, all of you, Ryker Conway. Always.”

22

Harper

“Doing okay?”

Ryker shoots me a sideways glance. We’re in the back of the rental car, on our way to the cemetery. Shephard is driving.

“I am. Thank you.” I reach for his hand. He laces our fingers and leans in. I meet him halfway, ready for the kiss.

His mouth on mine is warm and soft. I open to him and take in his flavor. Bitter coffee. Fresh strawberries. Smiling, I cradle his face in my palm and deepen the kiss. Whimper as I lose myself to his skilled mouth. Goodness, Ryker Conway is a great kisser.

A throat clearing from the front of the car.Shephard. I come up for air through my haze of desire. Blink a few times. Look into green eyes darkened by desire.

In their depths, I see a reflection of what must be on my face—happiness. I begrudgingly end the kiss and shamelessly stare at the sexy guy who completely made me his not once but twice last night.

The place between my legs throbs and aches anew. Wearing a dress—another gift from Shephard I found hanging on the back of the bathroom door—I’m more aware of the chafing on my inner thighs from Ryker’s beard. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I love Ryker’s beard. His beard sets him apart from Shephard. Shephard keeps his dark stubble to the usual five o’clock shadow before tiring of it and shaving it off.

I hold Ryker’s face in my hands, smooth my thumbs over his beard, and drop a kiss on the bow of his upper lip. My mouth hits smooth skin and coarse hair, and I hum low in the back of my throat.

“Babe.”

Ryker’s green eyes are glassy with desire. If Shephard weren’t with us, we’d find a private place to pull off onto and make out like hormonal teenagers.

I slant my head Shephard’s direction. We’re testing his patience. A moody Shephard is not a pretty picture. Ryker scowls but gets the message. We don’t kiss again on the drive, but continue to hold hands.

At the cemetery, we get out of the car. We’re not alone. A black SUV pulls up and parks behind us. It’s the guys from last night.

My hand in Ryker’s, I slip my other hand in Shephard’s. I am his and he is mine until only he or Sam is left standing. I bring our clasped hands to my lips and smooth my mouth over each man’s knuckles.

Ryker glances from me to Shephard. His green eyes darken. His mouth compresses into a thin line. What he says next seals his fate in this game of wills and dark desires.

“She’s ours. She will always be ours. They want her? They’ll have her over our cold, dead bodies.”

Shephard rears back his head and laughs. “You got that right. They’ll play dirty. Do everything they can to destroy what you and Harper have. Don’t ever forget it.”

“Never.”

We walk until we get to my father’s gravesite. The eerie feeling of being watched and judged for what I did as a seventeen-year-old . . . The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and my nerves rattle. Sweat beads along my hairline, and drops roll down the side of my face, the temperature in the mid-seventies. I want out of Chicago as soon as possible.

I’m too close to my past. My past is closing in on me. It’s been five years, but what sticks out most, what scares me, is Sam will come for me.

He keeps his promises to the point of obsession. It’s another reason his friends are loyal. When Sam makes a promise, he’s good for it. His dark promise—what he muttered before he fell into unconsciousness—is the reason Shephard continues to stay by my side.

“You’re wicked, Harper, and wicked belongs with wicked. My brother ain’t it. You’re mine, every piece and part of you.”

---