Page 74 of Along for the Ride

He lifts me and wraps my legs around him, lowering me until his warm cock presses against my entrance. He grips my ass and pushes inside me. I gasp as he stretches me. It burns, like I’m being impaled by a torch. Instead of thrusting, he eases his cock deeper until he can’t fit another centimeter of flesh inside me. He motions toward his hair, and I happily oblige.

I brush the dark, graying strands back as I scrub them. I dig my fingertips into his scalp, raking them against his skin. He groans and twitches inside me. Throbs. His fingers bruise my ass as he squeezes. His eyes are closed, like the most euphoric moment he’s ever known is right now, with my hands in his hair and his cock in my pussy.

He pulls me deeper into him as he gets close, each harsh breath more ragged than the last. I drag my fingers down and rub the hair behind his ears, and he lets out the most seductive moan I’ve ever heard. If my legs weren’t already wrapped around him, I wouldn’t be able to hold myself up.

“I’m coming,” he growls.

I yelp as he grips my ass and spills his come inside me. My fingers clench from the pain, going from washing his hair to gripping it in a tight hold. He groans, puts his arm beneath me, and lifts me off his dick before putting my feet onto the slick tiles. My legs shake, and I’m so sore, even without a single thrust from him. But it leaves me wanting more. He pulls me under the shower stream and kisses me as the shampoo falls from his hair in a sudsy veil.

“You want to come, don’t you, my wanderer? My girl?”

I nod because I’ve never wanted anything more. “Yes, sir.”

He reaches between my legs, but the moment he brushes my clit, Karson whips open the bathroom door and whistles.

“We gotta go. Now,” Karson says before slamming the door.

Gentry groans. “I’ll make it up to you.”

I nod, disappointed but understanding. When Karson says it’s time to go, it’s probably for a reason. We dress in a rush and meet the sun’s early rays as we walk outside the dark building. A van idles beside our site...which must betheirsite. Gentry throws them an apologetic wave, and we climb into the SUV. Karson mans the steering wheel and points us toward the park’s exit. We make our escape before anyone is the wiser.

“How long were they waiting?” Gentry asks.

“Just a few minutes. I told them we stopped to shower and didn’t realize the spot was taken. And then I went and got you two.”

“Did they seem suspicious of anything?”

Karson shakes his head. “Not really. Karen seemed annoyed, but that’s probably because her little brats were screaming in the back. No clue why breeding is your fetish.” Karson fakes a gag.

Gentry shrugs. “I like the idea of getting my sweet little wanderer pregnant. But actually dealing with the product of that? No thanks.”

“What if I got pregnant?” I ask as I lean forward, putting my head between them.

“We’d deal with it,” Gentry says.

“Deal with it how you deal with things?” I ask, swiping my finger across my throat.

Gentry laughs. “No, we’d somehow raise a kid in a world of homicide, I guess. They’d become like us, though, which is why I’m not the dad type, even if I love the risk I take each time I fill you.”

Karson clears his throat. “I once had a dream that I had a baby. I picked up the little thing and ate it.” My mouth drops open, and he tosses me his Karson smile. “So I’m going to say I’m probably not dad material, either.”

Thank fuck I’m on birth control. That’s all I’m saying. I enjoy Gentry’s breeding fetish and love being filled by him, but I refuse to bring a baby into a world where it will either become a serial killer or get fucking eaten.

Even though I’m in a world where I’m faced with those options myself.

ChapterThirty-One

Gentry

It’s odd to look at the phone on the dash and know it won’t ring anymore. George is dead, with a pastor’s hand so far up his ass not even the funeral home will find it. I hope he’s fisted for all eternity. Even so, we won’t waste the last mark on our list.

Leana leans into the front seat, her hand idly scratching the dog’s head. “Where are we headed now?”

“The last hit on our magical murder tour,” Karson says.

She frowns. “We’re still doing that?”

“Yes, we are. We’re counting on a big payout so we can lie low for a while,” I explain. “It’s not like there’s a hitman classifieds section. We’ll have trickling work after this, but it won’t be like it is now. The wife who hates her husband. The businessman with too much money and hatred for a competitor.”

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