Page 72 of Reaper and Ruin

When his fingers fisted in my hair and my scalp prickled in delight, the moan I let out was one of pleasure, not fear.

I let him have control of me because it turned us both on. Because I trusted him with my body. With my life.

With my heart.

I loved him so damn much. Every side of him, from the sweet and tender, to the way he was now, dominant and strong.

I wanted him inside me.

I sucked him harder, wanting to please him, wanting him to want me as much as I wanted him.

His growl of need told me he did. “Get on your back, Violet.”

I lay back, and he followed me down, pushing my legs apart so my heels dug into the sand. I grabbed at his jacket, needing his skin on mine and not the smooth cold of the leather.

He shrugged it off, and I managed to yank his T-shirt up over his head, him dropping it to the sand before lying down on top of me.

God, his weight felt good. He kept a lot of it held in his knees and the strong forearms either side of me, but he was heavy enough that my brain whispered seductive words, telling me I was safe here with him, wrapped up in his arms, sheltered from the world.

His cock inside me was so needed. He drove in like a man on a mission, stretching me, filling me, setting off new pleasure inside me.

He groaned, his mouth trailing up my neck to my ear. “I want my baby in you, Violet.”

I stared up at him, at the honesty and raw intensity in his eyes. He’d never had a real family. Neither had I.

I was almost as surprised as he was when I whispered back, “I want that too.”

His growl was possessive. Deeply rooted in need. He flipped our positions, so he was on his back, me sitting across him, his cock impaled deep inside me.

He fumbled in the dark. The click of his tattoo kit opening.

And then he was pushing it into my hand.

I stared down at it. “What…”

He turned it on, the electronic buzz mixing with the crash of the water behind me. He drew it down so it touched his skin.

I jerked my hand back instinctively, but he did it again, guiding the nib of the machine down to his chest. “Make your mark on me while I fuck a baby into you, Violet.”

Heat rushed me. On instinct, I rocked my hips, chasing down friction for both of us.

He groaned. “Say what I want to hear.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He slammed his hips up, and I ground down on the gun. I didn’t know what I was drawing. He already had my name and the flowers representing it over his heart, he didn’t need me scribbling on him and making a mess.

I tried to keep the wobble out of my hand, but it was impossible with the way he thrust up into me. I lost myself in the pleasure, grinding down on him when he pushed up, the two of us meeting in the middle to collide against each other.

With barely a few lines on his skin, the tattoo gun fell from my fingers. I needed both hands to brace myself on his chest, so I could tip my head and arch my back, getting myself into the position that had his cock hitting that spot inside me just right.

I moaned, my nipples tight and aching for touch. He drew one of my hands up to them, and together we took a handful. His other hand found my clit, and I dropped my hand over his, not letting him stop.

The orgasm that barreled down on me in the moonlight stole my breath. My lungs hitched, and I gasped. Pleasure exploded inside me, starting low and deep but spreading like fireworks through my blood and across my skin. I pulsed around him, squeezing him tight with internal muscles completely controlled by the orgasm he’d given me.

Our moans mingled in the night breeze, carried away with the crash of waves. I dropped myself down onto him, kissing him hard, breathing against his lips, trying to regulate myself with his body.

He growled and flipped our positions again, laying me out on the towel much more carefully than he had when it had been him in the sand. On his knees, he lifted my hips until my ass rested on his thighs, my legs wide around him, my hips tilted toward the sky.