Page 5 of Reaper's Hunt

He fucks me like he wants to break me, hands bruising my hips as he yanks me back to meet every punishing stroke. And I love it, crave it, this pleasurable torture he wields like a blade, carving me open in ways my kills never touch.

Dante comes hard, a guttural groan tearing from his chest as his cock pulses, spilling hot and thick inside me. He holds me there as his lips graze my shoulder until he’s done, and then he pulls out, my cunt constricting around nothing, my orgasm still just around the corner. “Go change,” he says, a hint of amusement lacing his words as he steps back to tuck himself away. “We need to get to the station to meet Harley.”

I didn’t come and he knows it.Fucking asshole.It’s his sick game, his torture, and I’m hooked on it, some depraved part of me panting for the denial. I should have known he wouldn’t come over to fuck me, to scratch an itch I desperately needed scratched. No, every last minute of his presence tonight was to teach me a lesson for keeping him waiting. Not Harley, buthim.

“I just need to take a quick shower,” I rasp, voice wrecked, reaching for a shred of control.

A dark, cruel laugh comes from him as he leans against the edge of my couch. “Only good girls get showers, kitten. And you?” His eyes rake over me, lingering on my flushed tits, the sweat glistening my skin. “Are not. You’re gonna walk into that goddamn station with my cum still leaking out of your sloppy little cunt.”

My nose scrunches, disgust warring with the twisted heat still coiling in me. I press my thighs together, the odd feeling of his cum starting to trickle back out causing me to grimace. “And to think we were ever childhood sweethearts.”

“You’re still my fucking sweetheart,” he purrs, “and I love knowing you’re stuffed with my load while sitting across from that prick Harley, who thinks he’s still got a shot at you.”

I give in, knowing that any fight will have me enduring something else this man throws at me. He’s going to fuck me at some point later anyway so there’s no use continuing to debate him. Leaving the living room might give him time to wander, so I hurry over to the dryer, hoping and praying I was lazy enough to leave clothes in there.

Bingo.

I step into a pair of panties, grimacing at the slickness pressed against my pussy. That’s going to be so fucking uncomfortable, but I keep going, dragging out a black dress that’s really more of a sleeve. It’ll show every last curve, my nipples poking through the thin fabric. The moment I slip it over my head, there’s a grunt of disapproval from behind me.

“Change.”

Just one word, a command that I’m not going to follow. “Actually, I won’t.” I twist around to look at him, that possessive expression back on his face, his arms folded over his chest.

“You do realize what’s going to happen to you if I catch Harley staring at you, right?”

“Empty promises, Dante.”

This man is as possessive as they come, ruining dates and one-night stands to show that he’s the only person who can truly satisfy me. The problem is that he’s right and I’m constantly trying to prove to myself that I don’t need him. That I could break away from him. That one day, I could leave him behind.

But who am I kidding? Dante’s not going anywhere.

Dante

Igrowlundermybreath as Selene steps out in that damn dress. Black, tight, clinging to every curve like it’s painted on, her hips, ass, and chest all screaming for attention. It’s pissing me off. Harley’s gonna look at her, I know it. That smug bastard will rake his eyes over what’s mine, and I’ll have to stop myself from smashing his teeth down his throat. Her body’s not for him. It’s mine. Every inch, every scar, every fucking breath she takes. I don’t care if she’s a storm of chaos wrapped in silver hair and glass-gray eyes. She’s mine to claim, mine to keep.

But I bite my tongue, gentlemanly enough to hold the door open for her as we head out. She moves past me, that silver hair catching the streetlights in her dimly lit neighborhood. I despise this area but Selene refuses to move for some reason and since I can’tmakeher do anything, the only thing I can do is make sure she doesn’t end up dead like the victim of the murder we’re currently investigating.

Those mischievous eyes dart to mine, a flicker of fear buried in them. She’s wondering if I’ll figure out what happened in that goddamn apartment tonight. If I wasn’t so fucking smitten, so caught up in watching her when she thinks no one is, I’d tell her right now. I’ve known for years—her tendencies, her cravings, the way she hungers for the kill.

I was there the night she tore her stepfather apart, blood painting the walls, his screams dying in her hands. I wasn’t supposed to be, but I hid in the shadows, my cock half-hard from the sheer brutality of her. She was a goddess of ruin and I was hooked.

Back then, we were innocent. Kids in love playing at something soft before the world broke her. Before survival birthed the monster she is now. She thinks I’d recoil, that I’d reject this jagged, beautiful thing she’s become. She has no fucking clue what I’ll accept. I want it all. Her flaws, her curves, the scars crisscrossing her soul. That filthy mouth spitting curses, the way she fights back with teeth and nails. I want the darkness, the deviance, the blood on her hands. But I’m having too much fun making her squirm, letting her think I’m blind to it all. Keeping her on edge is my game, and I’m damn good at it.

I watch her now, sliding into the passenger seat of my truck, that dress riding up her thighs. My fingers itch to grab her, to pin her down and growl that I know, that I’ve always known. Her eyes catch mine again and there’s that uncertainty, that teetering doubt: Will I turn her in, or pull her close?

She doesn’t dare ask, though. I’m the only warm body she trusts, the only tether she’s got left. But it’s more than that. I’m the only one who remembers her from before the kills, before the Reaper took root. When she was just Selene, sharp-tongued and wild, but mine in a way that didn’t need blood to seal it.

She’s still mine. Always will be. She’ll figure that out in time.

“Harley’s gonna be a prick tonight,” I mutter, starting the engine, trying to keep my tone casual.

She smirks, her attention focused forward, but her hands fidgeting in her lap belie her expression.Good.I like her rattled and off-balance. Keeps her close, keeps her guessing. I pull onto the road, my mind drifting back to the state of her apartment. I can picture the blood-soaked sheets, a gutted corpse lying on that bed, and my beautiful woman standing over it with a maniacal grin she sports when she’s in the moment.

I’m not sure why Selene thought I wouldn’t smell the copper lingering on her skin. Not even a quick shower would be able to hide the evidence of a dead body from me. Not only have I been working in the business too fucking long, but I know her. The worst part is that I fucking love the way it mingles with her natural scent. Hell, I’d lick it off her if she’d let me.

“You’re quiet,” she muses, her voice a little more curt than usual. She’s pissed at me for several reasons, no doubt, most currently that I didn’t let her come. That’s her fault, though. She shouldn’t have been late.

She tries to be discreet as her gaze narrows at me but it’s not all that subtle. I merely shrug, not giving her the answer she wants, “Just thinking about how Harley’s gonna drool over you in that dress.”

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