Page 91 of Tracking Luxe

On her way back to the kitchen, where she would undoubtedly bring him something his stomach wanted and he'd lick the plate clean because it was from Paige, he saw her touch the shoulder of an elderly lady making sure she had everything she needed, and then she spoke to a baby in a stroller.

Paige was a fixer, a healer of souls and she did it with a smile and food.

What would she say if he said to heal him she could get on her pretty knees and suck on his cock?

How would she feel if the only thing he needed to make him smile was her long fingers wrapped around his cock while she fed it into the home of her warm pussy?

Suck. Fuck.Suck. He was tormented by the images.

He wanted to fuck. It had been years since he’d sank himself into a body. It was only his every thought around her.

He ate the breakfast she brought him. They didn't speak again but she refilled his cup twice and sent him a smile as he paid at the counter. Right as he was ready to leave, he turned, caught her eyes already on him like she’d been slyly watching him this whole time, her breath stuttered and he had to ask. "Are you good, Paige?"

Like she’d been waiting for his question her smile brightened her whole face.

Desire hurt him deep in the gut.

"Oh, yes! Really good, thank you, Reaper.”

Don't you know by now, Paige, I'm yours.

Reaper strode out of the diner with the words still inside his head.

There was something he needed to do.

And he didn't have to wait long at all as he leaned on his bike parked by the curb.

The joker strode out picking food out of his teeth, swaggering like he thought he owned main street. He’d been making grave mistakes for days now and Reaper was about to set him straight.

Reaper stepped down off his Harley, followed John just a way before grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, he outweighed him, it was easy, ignoring the instant protest as the man tried to fight him.

No chance. He slammed the guy up against a wall and squeezed both sides of his head like a fucking melon.

Nastiness in Reaper's voice. He had one thing to say and he prayed this fucker didn't make him say it more than once.

He hadn't known who John was until two days ago and he'd go back to forgetting who he was after this until he forced Reaper into a second talk.

"Listen up, mate. You stay the hell away from Paige, are you hearing me?" One fleeting second Reaper lost perspective on reality, his vision blanked out.

When it came to protecting Paige, he was a screw loose. A cannon about to blow, the maniac clown under the road. He had his reasons and all of them valid. This guy had been looking at Paige too closely, eyes glued to her tits and ass and Reaper didn’t like it.

"You don't flirt with her, you don't ask her out, you don't even fucking smile at her."

"W-what the fuck is to you, asshole? The frigid bitch is single!" John spat out. Fingers attached to Reapers arm tightened on John's face.

Squeezing.Squeezing.

Wrong answer.

He left dear John in a puddle of his own blood in an alleyway, covered in welts and warning bruises.

John got the message after that.

As Reaper climbed back onto his bike he saw Paige gazing at him through the window, her eyes solemn as they were beautiful. Before their connection was broke, he revved the engine, toed off the kickstand with his boot. She was so goddamn beautiful, he wished ...he wished. He’d fallen in love with her at first sight and it showed no signs of changing.

Fast running out of time.

If he let out his feelings, he knew he'd flood this whole damn town and he couldn't do that yet.