Page 74 of Reaper and Ruin

I moaned, loving being told what to do, loving the response it lit up inside me. I’d been barely hanging on for dear life, sorelaxing into the sand, and letting go was the easiest “Yes!” I’d ever uttered.

He came just as hard, his cock kicking inside me, my freshly tattooed pussy clenching him tight, releasing, then doing it all over again. I writhed beneath him until we were both sandy messes, but weak with pleasure and thoroughly exhausted.

He pulled out and lay back next to me, both of us hot and sweaty, the breeze a welcome relief on sticky skin.

He propped himself up on one arm. “How does it feel?”

“A little sore,” I admitted. “But zero regrets.”

“You haven’t even seen it yet.”

“I don’t need to. You did it. I know it’s perfect.”

“You have a lot of faith in an apprentice tattooing in the moonlight.”

I kissed his mouth. “I have a lot of faith inyou.”

He brushed his lips over mine, then fumbled for his phone sitting on top of his jacket. He opened up the photo he’d taken. “Here. Look.”

The close-up photo sent a new flush of heat through my body. My pussy stretched around him.

His name in his perfectly imperfect handwriting that I’d fallen in love with through his letters.

Tears pricked at the backs of my eyes. His handwriting meant something to me. So did the way he’d claimed me.

He took the phone back, and his fingers flew across the screen. Over his shoulder, I watched him pull up his text message chat with Whip and X.

Levi:

Change of plans for tomorrow. Violet can’t ride. We’ll have to take the van or Whip’s car.

Whip’s response came back almost instantly.

Whip:

What? Why can’t she ride? Is she hurt?

Levi grinned wickedly and attached the photo to the message.

My breath hitched.

He glanced at me. “Tell me not to send it and I won’t.”

I should have said no. Should have told him to delete it. Or at the very least, that it was something private, just for him and me.

But I said nothing.

Because the thought of X and Whip seeing that photo only turned me on more.

He hit send, explaining with one image exactly why I wouldn’t be comfortable riding for the next couple of weeks.

And then he fucked me again, while his phone exploded with messages from the two men whose names I needed Levi to add when we got home.

23

X

Harold yowled from the carrier wedged between the seats, like I’d personally offended his ancestors by forcing him into it. My forearms were covered in fresh scratches, and one of my hoodie strings had been severed in the battle.