Page 89 of Resurfaced Passion
He let the hug last only three seconds before drawing back from her warmth to see her smiling, all her previous pissed off mood had disappeared, his eyes skidded away.
With his voice-box suddenly like sandpaper, he bent his bald head and dug around inside his pocket and brought out what bills he had in there, he counted and handed over fifty-five dollars, pushing the money into her hand. “Go and have fun, Angel.”
Long after he’d rode away, leaving Angela behind to go on her date with the geeky math punk, he could still feel her ink black strands of hair in his fingers, could still smell her soft perfume she’d used that day.
He wanted her to beokay.
To not have a fucked up beginning like him or any of the other boys of his club.
She was a damn kid who’d nearly been sold into the sex trafficking world that was rife in the states. If not for Lawless and the boys raiding and murdering through the Raging Rebel’s club that night, she would have been in a crate sent to god knows where, to do god knows what with filthy animals who didn’t get consent to do the things they craved.
Not like Lawless.
Somewhere along those blurred lines he’d felt responsible for her.
She was attached to Zara, even to the club and the boys, choosing to spend her most recent birthday there.
He had a date of sorts of his own set for that night up at the cabin, the first one in a while. A naughty androgynous fish who’d almost pleaded with Lawless to give them a night to remember. Pain and pleasure was a usual party for Lawless.
But he already knew he’d cancel to sit at the clubhouse and watch his app and the little arrow that indicated where Angela’s phone was located.
He’d make sure she got home, he told himself and didn’t delve no further than that.
He itched for the boy to step out of line and to take her home a minute past curfew.
Forget about having pleasure with a bad fish, Lawless was in the mood to draw blood.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Best night of her life so far.” – Paige
Paige jolted like she’d been electrocuted with nine million volts, only so much more pleasurable, she moaned with her head craned back on the soft pillows beneath her and tiny pants escaping through her lips.
“Easy, Paige. Just giving you a little pet first. Is that alright?”
“God,” she puffed out a spell of air on a little giggle against his cheek. Was he seriously asking permission to touch her after spending the last four hours seducing her with just his eyes alone? Not to mention all the bread he’d ordered just for her. She could have spread herself on the table right there.
But in all those hours, Reaper hadn’t kissed her once. He’d held her hand into the restaurant, into the movie, along the candy market they’d found. He’d helped her on and off the motorcycle, told her how tight to hold him around his waist. Yet not one kiss, even though she saw him watching her mouth more than once.
So, by the time he’d escorted her to the front door, his breath hot on the nape of her neck as she struggled to work the key in the door, she was a bundle of jumbled … horny nerves. Only when they were inside her dark apartment did he make a move, kissing her so hot, so deep, she forgot all her email passwords.
Now he wanted permission to touch her? He could have thrown her down on the ground multiple times over the last hours, years and months and fondled her all over and Paige would never have uttered one single protest. “Please, yes, that is so alright.”
He chuckled low and dirty.
The same hand that had made her quake, rolled up her inner thigh. “That’s good. Open your legs a little more. Let me see just how creamy you made this thin strip of material.” His knuckle inching its way past the pastel pink underwear was almost her undoing when he knocked up against her clit and then soothed the hard bud with a circle.
His tenderness was unexpected. As hard as he’d kissed her in the doorway, dry humping her into the wall and then helping to peel the skinny jeans down her legs and dispense with her shirt and bra, she could have bet the bank he was about to fuck her freaking hard.
Paige had been so ready.
The hand he stroked between her legs was soft, and explorative. Almost like he was playing her body in the same way a pianist would a brand-new baby grand.
She moaned, writhing her hips, and he soon discovered just how damp her thin cotton panties were. She was scorched inside and out from his little investigative touches.
“Ah, beautiful girl.” He murmured against her lips.
She was famished for Reaper, her lips opened wider to accept his tongue. Indiscernible pleasure chased her like a demon.
