Page 32 of Claimed By A Blue Eyed Menace

“Fuck, Shooter,” she gasped, voice breaking, losing control completely. “Right thereeee… pleaseee. Keep fucking me just like that.”

“You beggin’ now, huh?” I smirked, driving harder, deeper, knowing I had her exactly where I wanted her. Her pussy squeezed me tight, legs trembling as her orgasm crashed through her.

“Yesssss! Please don’t stop,” she cried, collapsing forward slightly, ass still up, taking every thrust I gave her. But just as I thought I won, Parker surprised me again, pulling away suddenly and shoving me back onto the bed with a fierce shove.

She climbed back on top, this time facing away from me, reverse cowgirl. Her ass bounced beautifully as she fucked herself onto me, taking complete control again. “Fuck, baby,” I groaned, gripping her hips, guiding her, losing myself in her wetness, the rhythm she set—fast, reckless, wild.

“Who’s winning now?” she shot over her shoulder breathlessly, her voice thick with pleasure.

I grinned, thrusting up harder, matching her move for move, determined never to yield. “I don’t ever lose, but you gon’ scream my fuckin’ name again.”

We battled it out, each of us desperate to claim victory, bodies slick with sweat, breaths ragged, curses flying. The headboard banged wildly against the wall, neither of us slowing down. Finally, she threw her head back, climax hitting her again with wild force. “Fuck, Shooter! Damn youuuu!”

I couldn’t hold back anymore, slamming into her deep one last time, letting out a rough groan, emptying myself deep inside her. We collapsed together, panting heavily, limbs tangled, bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction. Parker lay on my chest, her breathing still ragged. After a long silence, she glanced up at me, a smirk playing on her lips.

“I still didn’t beg,” she murmured.

“Lyin’ ass,” I chuckled darkly, brushing her hair back from her damp face.

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue, curling deeper into my chest. “Whatever.”

I tightened my arm around her, satisfied, possessive as fuck. “Get used to it, Parker. This dick right here? It ain’t goin’ nowhere. And neither are you.”

She looked up at me, that stubborn fire still sparking in her eyes even as she softened. I smirked, pulling her close again. I didn’t say another word—didn’t need to. She knew damn well she wasn’t going nowhere. Not after that shit right there. Parker Mosley was mine, body, soul, and everything else. Whether she liked it or not.

PARKER

I w o k e u psore and satisfied. My body ached in the best way possible, a deep, slow throb between my thighs that made me squeeze them together beneath the silk sheets. My mind was still foggy, replaying that raw, passionate, toe-curling sex we had last night. I’d never tried out-fucking a man before but something about Shooter’s cocky ass made me want to try. I’d be damned if it didn’t feel good to try.

Nothing could come close to that type of sex. I wasn’t a virgin. There had been two men before Shooter, both carefully chosen under my father’s watchful eye. One had been a calculated business arrangement; the other, an acceptable distraction. But sex with Shooter was different.

I turned my head, expecting to see him beside me, but the bed was empty. The spot where he’d laid was still warm, but he was long gone. My eyes flicked toward the bedroom door just as he stepped inside, already dressed, already in business mode. Black button down, dark-washed jeans slung low on his hips, some designer shoes, and those chains gleaming around his neck. His icy blue eyes swept over me, lingering on my bare skin peeking from beneath the sheets, and the smallest smirk tugged at his lips.

“Morning, wifey.”

I rolled my eyes and stretched out, purposefully letting the sheets slide lower down my body. His gaze darkened slightly, but he didn’t make a move. “You really just got up and left?” I muttered, my voice still raspy from sleep.

“For your information,” Shooter started to say, as he fastened his watch, glancing at me in amusement. “I went to grab breakfast. Figured you needed the rest after how I had you last night.”

My cheeks burned. This nigga was so cocky and arrogant. I flipped onto my stomach, propping my chin on my hand as I watched him. “You’re not even gonna come back to bed and give me more?”

Shooter chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, baby, you got shit to do.”

I scoffed, pushing up onto my elbows. “What?”

He tucked his gun behind him and shot me a look. “You got a mission for today.”

I arched a brow. “A mission?”

He smirked, leaning against the dresser. "Laundry, cleanin', and cookin'. Wifey duties.”

I sat up fully, gripping the sheet to my chest. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He reached for his cologne, spraying it across his wrist before rubbing it against his neck. That warm, spicy scent hit my nose instantly, and I almost forgot I was pissed. Almost.

I folded my arms. “First of all, I ain’t no damn maid. And second, what if I wanna come with you?”

Shooter paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. He hadn’t expected that. “You tryna tag along all of a sudden?” he asked, sounding both amused and suspicious.

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