The Reaper (Dark Verse 2)

He paused. “You don’t know?”

She shook her head, stroking the hard muscle of his chest softly. “I wasn’t going to hide this from you. You just weren’t replying to my text so I thought I’d tell you after. We need to talk about that, by the way.”

“You went to meet a man you didn’t know?” he asked, disbelieving.

“He’d contacted me once before,” Morana clarified. His eyes darkened. She continued, unfazed. “He said he had some information and that’s why I met him. He did.”

Tristan leaned down, his lips hovering beside her ear, his scruff rubbing against the side of her cheek. “You’re not helping yourself.”

Morana rolled her eyes, her breaths escalating. “Calm down, caveman. You’re being an asshole.”

His lips made contact with her skin just below her ear, his tongue tasting her skin. “What I feel isn’t jealousy, wildcat.” His lips slid down the side of her neck, kissing the skin like he never had before. “It’s knowing you’re mine and knowing I still have to share you with people. It’s a burn in my chest. It makes me want to put you over my shoulder, take you to a cave, and fuck you until you forget everything but how I feel inside you.”

Breathing harshly, feeling his lips stop at her shoulder, Morana challenged him like she always did. “Why don’t you?”

Before she could take another breath, he had her backed against the wall, picking up her weight with one hand under ass. Morana grabbed his broad shoulders and wrapped her legs around his hips, feeling his cock press urgently between her spread legs.

Taking a hold of his shirt where it was open, Morana jerked on it, sending buttons flying as it ripped open, his chest and abs becoming visible to her. His hands tore down the fabric of her new top from her body until it gaped open in the middle, leaving her in just her bright pink lacy bra. She thought he would slow then, slide the straps of her bra down maybe. He didn’t. He just tore through the lace until her bra hung in tatters, her breasts exposed to his

eyes, her nipples hard like bullets. They felt heavy, aching.

And then, for the first time, his hands cupped them. Morana felt his touch in her pussy, her hips automatically grinding against him as her head tilted back, eyes closing.

“Eyes,” he uttered one raw demand, making her open her eyes and see him. They had denied this to each other before, denied each other so much before. But now it was slowly being bared, this new intimacy between them.

Locking her own hazel eyes with his electric blues, Morana gripped his hair at the back of his head, urging him on. His hands – big, rough, skilled – the same hands that had once wiped the blood off of her, squeezed her breasts together, his fingers skillfully plucking at her nipples, the pressure almost painful but so good her panties were a wet mess.

He ground his hips against her over their clothing, his cock almost bruising against her clit with such delicious pressure she felt her limbs tingling.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned, baring her throat to him, her pulse fluttering as her heart tried to keep up with her body.

“Give me your mouth,” she demanded and saw a flash of his dimple.

“Greedy little thing,” he murmured, still leaning back and watching her, his hands wreaking havoc on her breasts and nipples as he rhythmically started to fuck her over their clothes. “Say my name.”

“Tristan,” it escaped her on a whisper, her own hands exploring his bare chest. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he cursed, right before he slammed his mouth down on hers, his hips intensifying the pressure. The feel of his tongue sliding against hers, his hands pulling and kneading her breasts, his cock rolling against her aching core became too much for her. She crashed against the wave cresting inside her, her toes curling in her boots and her thighs tightening around his hips as her spine curved, her orgasm surprising her with its intensity. She felt him lose his rhythm as he groaned into her mouth, his hands leaving her breasts to go under her ass, grinding her pussy closer to him.

Breathing hard, he broke their kiss, leaning his forehead against her. She could feel her heart stuttering, trying to calm down. It was over within minutes.

“I’ve never come in my pants before,” he murmured in the space between them.

Morana felt a chuckle leave her, as it turned into a full-blown laugh. “Me neither.”

“I’m not sure my lack of control around you in a good thing,” he stated, untangling her legs from around him. “I need a shower.”

Morana straightened her glasses and pulled her clothes back into a semblance of decorum, as he turned towards the stairs and climbed up quickly. Her eyebrows hit her hairline as she saw the speed at which he was running away, sighing because he needed to learn to process shit. She already had her hands full.

But well, he’d given her two pretty good orgasms in one day so she could be nice.

Shaking her head, she grabbed her bag of toiletries and followed him up at a more leisurely pace, pretty sure he wasn’t going to be expecting what she was going to do. Entering the bedroom, she quickly stripped and headed to the bathroom as the sound of the running water filled the space.

Opening the door, she stepped inside and saw him in the glass cubicle, bare to the eyes and vulnerable. It wasn’t lost on her that this was exactly how he’d found her back in the penthouse. But she didn’t go to him. Instead, she wrapped a towel around herself and opened her bag.

“You realize we’re in a relationship, right?” she called out casually, enjoying the view in the mirror from her spot.

She saw him look at her as he ran his hands over his shoulders. He didn’t say anything. She continued.