Page 73 of Along for the Ride

My little thief, that’s who.

I fill her cunt, burying myself inside her. I know Gentry doesn’t want me to come in her pussy like this, but the water will wash away my sin. I smirk against her mouth when I imagine explaining my transgressions to the guard at the pearly gates. I murder for a living, but I also enjoy it, and I fuck the pseudo-dead body of my brother’s girl. I imagine the shock and horror across St. Peter’s face before the clouds blacken, open up, and swallow me to hell.

Worth it. Worth every fucking second of it.

ChapterThirty

Leana

When we return to the campsite, Gentry is still seated in front of the fire. His eyes move to mine after they burn through Karson. My soaked shirt saturates my jeans, and my damp hair clings to my cheeks.

“Did you two go for a swim?” he asks, and I don’t miss the jealousy woven tightly within his voice. I like it. His ownership is my weakness.

“Something like that,” Karson says as he walks to the SUV to get a change of clothes.

Gentry steps into me, inhaling the scent of sex and nature. His warm hand hooks around the back of my neck and tugs me into him. “What’d he do to you, wanderer?”

I don’t know what to say. How do I even describe what happened? More importantly, how do I explain that I liked it?

“Can we talk about it later?” I ask in a whisper. By that I mean when I’ve had more time to process it. Or not at all.

Karson pops up behind Gentry, his shirt half on. “I put her face beneath the water until she stopped squirming, then I fucked her as she played dead for me.” He pulls his shirt over his stomach.

Then Gentry asks the dreaded question as his eyes darken. “Where’d he come?”

“Inside me,” I whisper, dropping my gaze from his heated stare.

Gentry turns toward Karson, giving him a shove that I’m surprised doesn’t send him into the next site over. “What did I tell you about coming inside her pussy? I let you enjoy her body, which is very much mine. Stop fucking betraying the grain of trust I’ve given back to you. Spill your load anywhere else, but her pussy is mine. I’m the only one who can breed her.”

His words, his possessive display of force—it makes my skin heat and my thighs clench. His body goes from stressed and tense to crumbling as he steps into me. He grips my chin and raises my eyes to his, then he leans down and kisses me.

He pulls away and speaks to Karson, but he keeps his gaze pinned on me. “Stay with the dog. I still need to shower.” He lowers his voice so that only I can hear him. “And claim what belongs to me.”

Karson mutters something about babysitting the four-legged weapon of mass destruction, but he stays put as Gentry leads me toward the showers. He already has my bag in his hand, so he’s been thinking of this while Karson and I were gone.

A light buzzes to life when we enter the small shower area, and a pale yellow glow washes over us. The place is well cared for, and it smells clean enough. I strip off my wet clothes and head for the shower stall, pushing a button in the wall several times so I can wet my hair with something warmer than lake water. The trickle from the showerhead strengthens, and I stick my head beneath the stream.

Gentry steps into the stall doorway, a sexy smirk drawing his lips upward at the corners. He holds a small bottle of travel shampoo in his hand, which he passes to me. He steps out of his clothes and gets in beside me. His body heat warms me instantly. The water slows, reminding me to pump the button again.

I motion for Gentry to get beneath the water. As he wipes at his skin and sends a rush of red toward the drain, I squirt some shampoo into my hands and lean into him.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I helped Karson with his fantasy. What about yours?”

He scoffs. “My fantasy would involve your belly swelling with my child,” he whispers, running a hand from my lower abdomen to my pussy.

“That’s not something I can take care of right now, but what about your other thing?”

“What Karson told you? Don’t listen to—”

I interrupt him by pressing my breasts against his chest and rubbing my hands through his hair. The moment my fingertips meet his scalp, his hard cock twitches against my stomach. He drops his head forward so I don’t have to strain as hard to wash his hair. His lips part, and soft groans ease past them.

“Fuck, wanderer,” he growls.

I scrub his silky strands, swirling my fingertips in circles as I move from the crown of his head to the nape of his neck. His head snaps up and he grips the base of his cock. Can he really come so fast from this?

His other hand drags mine from his hair to the back of his neck, and he speaks through ragged, frustrated breaths. “You know I don’t want to waste a drop of my come,” he says with raised eyebrows.

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