Page 53 of Claimed By A Blue Eyed Menace

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “Yeah.”

Seth coughed again, the sound wet, rattling. His eyes, sharp even in death, pinned me down. “Don’t let this shit…take you under, boy.” I stayed silent, my jaw locked so tight it hurt. He smirked, his lips barely moving. “You always was…a cold motherfucka…”

I exhaled slowly and grabbed the bottle of Gin off the table then tossed it against the wall. Then, I grabbed the lighter from my pocket and flicked it open. I watched the flame dance for a second before tossing it into the dry wooden fireplace. The fire caught instantly, spreading fast. Smoke curled toward the ceiling, and I took one last look around the room. At the betrayal. At the end of an era.

I dragged my father with me, throwing his arm over my shoulder to keep him steady. He grunted, but I didn’t give him a chance to protest or say something I didn’t want to hear as I half-carried, half-dragged him toward the door. Then, without another glance back, I stepped out into the night.

Parker

T h e s o f t h u mof the city night seeped through the windows as I lay sprawled across the bed, the faint glow of my laptop screen illuminating the room. I had spent the last few hours eating, drinking, and laughing with my girls on FaceTime, talking shit. It felt good to have a sense of normalcy, even if a part of me was still waiting.

It had been three days and I hadn’t heard from Shooter once. I wasn’t worried, though. Not really. I knew him. Knew what he was out there taking care of business. And I knew it wasn’t anything pretty. If it took this long, that meant blood had been spilled. I just needed him to make it back to me in one piece.

At some point, exhaustion got the best of me. I shut my laptop, curled up beneath the silk sheets, and let sleep take over until I felt him. Soft lips brushed against my cheek. Slow, deliberate kisses. A warmth I hadn’t felt in days pressed into me, surrounding me. My body stirred before my mind fully caught up, my senses kicking in.

The scent of expensive cologne filled my nose, pulling me from the depths of sleep. My lashes fluttered, and when my eyes finally adjusted to the dim light, there he was. A slow, relieved smile spread across my lips as I reached up and threw my arms around Shooter’s neck, pulling him close.

“You’re home,” I breathed out against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin through his hoodie.

Shooter wrapped me up in his arms, holding me so tight I could barely breathe. His grip was possessive, needy, like he had missed me just as much as I had missed him. “Yeah, baby,” his voice was low, husky. “I’m home.”

I pulled back just enough to look into his piercing blue eyes, searching them for any sign of pain, any hint of what he had been through these past few days. But all I saw was that same dangerous, unreadable man I had fallen for.

“You missed me?” I whispered.

His lips twitched, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. “I can show you better than I can tell you.”

I didn’t get a chance to respond before he was climbing onto the bed, his hands already gripping my thighs, spreading me open beneath him. His lips found mine, rough and demanding, stealing my breath, my thoughts, my everything. I melted under him. Let him consume me.

And when he finally sank into me, our bodies reconnecting after days of distance, it wasn’t just sex. It was him claiming me again, him reminding me exactly who I belonged to, erasing every ounce of space that had separated us.

Three days apart might’ve seemed small to some, but with Shooter, it felt like forever. I’d tried to act unbothered, tried to keep myself distracted—but nights alone without his body pressed into mine left me restless, craving his rough hands, his demanding mouth, the dangerous heat of him taking me over.

“Fuck, Parker,” he groaned against my lips, voice raw, heavy with need as he buried himself to crook of my neck, dick deep inside me. His hands gripped my waist beneath him, and I could feel a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. “Missed the fuck outta you, baby.”

My breath hitched as I clawed at his back. Shooter pulled back, and I could see the tiredness. The exhaustion, but also the hunger in his gaze, was relentless, demanding everything I had. “I missed you, too,” I whispered softly, arching my back to bring him even deeper. “More than I wanted to admit.”

He pulled back slowly, deliberately, then thrust forward again, a slow, intense rhythm that had my eyes rolling back. Every stroke was methodical, each movement powerful and possessive, his lips never far from mine, kissing me slowly, deeply—tasting me like he was savoring something rare, something irreplaceable.

I moaned softly into his mouth, my hands sliding down his muscular back, feeling every tight muscle flex as he moved. The heat radiating from his body, the weight of him pinning me to the mattress, was both comforting and intoxicating.

He smirked softly, thrusting a little harder, causing my breath to catch. “You know I’ll always come home to you, right?” He rolled his hips expertly, filling me with each deep stroke, grinding against me in a way that had my thighs trembling. My nails dug into his skin, leaving my mark on him the same way he was marking me, owning me completely.

“Fuuuckkk. You… you better,” I breathed, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him deeper. “I swear, Shooter—”

He silenced me with another bruising kiss, rough yet tender, tongue sliding over mine until I was dizzy. His hand traced down between us, fingers finding my clit, gently circling, driving me right to the brink. “Never leavin’ you alone long enough to forget who owns this pussy,” he rasped, lips brushing mine with every word, his thumb pressing firmly against my swollen nerves. “You know exactly what it is.”

My hips rose to meet each of his strokes, my breath coming in quick gasps as pleasure surged through my entire body. Shooter felt every shudder, every tremble, and he slowed just slightly, torturing me deliciously, eyes locked on mine. “Yessss… please… please, don’t stop.”

“Say that shit, Mrs. Mosley,” he commanded, voice deep, dark, and low, caressing every syllable against my skin. “Who do you belong to?”

I met his gaze defiantly, lips curving into a slow, wicked smile. “You,” I moaned softly, no hesitation this time. “I’m all yours, Shooter.”

A deep, satisfied groan escaped him, and his pace quickened, slow and deliberate, becoming urgent, desperate, passionate. His thrusts were deeper, harder, each stroke claiming me more completely than the last, as if he was embedding himself permanently inside me, never to let go again.

“Fuck. I love hearin’ you say that,” he growled, hands tightening around my hips, bruising me in the best way possible. “Nobody ever gon’ take you from me, Parker. Nobody.”

“I don’t want anybody else,” I gasped, my body tensing, thighs shaking as he pushed me toward release.

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