Page 69 of Reaper's Desire

I'm glad that asshole's dead fucking body is still in the room. I hope somewhere he sees me fucking the girl he never got a chance to touch before I killed him.

"Julian." Isabelle gasps my name again, arching as she rocks against me. "I'm going to… oh God, I… I'm…"

"Come on my cock, pretty girl." I bite her lower lip, thrusting again hard and then rocking into her, grinding us together. "Come all over it. Fuck, you feel good. I want to feel it.Fuck…"

I feel the moment she starts to come, her nails digging in as she clings to me, tightening along my length like she wants to milk the cum from my body. It takes everything in me to hold onto my orgasm as she bucks and moans, her mouth sucking against my neck as she writhes on my cock. It feels so fucking good, so…

The moment I feel her start to ebb, I pull out with a groan, fisting my cock as I jerk it over her taut stomach. The first hot spurt arcs up to her chin, spattering her lips, then her breasts, painting them with my cum, and the sight intensifies my orgasm. My balls go tight, my cock throbbing as I spurt again and again, covering her breasts and stomach and thighs in it as I mark her as mine.

Mine.

She can't be. Not really. But in this moment, flushed and panting, covered in my cum… she looks fucking beautiful. She looks like mine. And she is for just a little while longer.

I sag forward over her, my mouth an inch from hers, my heart still pounding and my body still thrumming with the aftershocks of the best sex I've had in my entire life.

Better than Ibiza. Better than anything, probably because I've been denying myself again and again, and this was the release I so desperately needed.

"Julian." Her voice is soft beneath me. "That was?—"

"I know."

"I've wanted that for so long."

I close my eyes and breathe her in.Me too, I think, but I can't say it. There's no point. We have no future. Nothing ahead of us, and all the best things already behind us.

I swallow hard and start to pull back. I rise up to my knees, looking regretfully down at her gorgeous, naked, cum-painted body. My cock twitches, already eager to go again, but there's no time. We've wasted too much already.

"You need to get cleaned up and dressed. And then we…"

My voice breaks off as I glance toward the mess of clothing at the side of the bed. My wallet is lying on the floor, fallen out of my jeans when I kicked them off in a rush to get inside her. Which wouldn't be a big deal, except…

Lying on the floor beside us, face-up and impossible to miss, is a photograph.

A surveillance photo of Isabelle. It's a picture taken while she's sitting at a café in New York, the lens zoomed in on her face.

The kind of photo an assassin receives when he's hired to kill someone.

Isabelle sees it at the same moment I do. Her entire body goes rigid beneath me. Every muscle locks up, and her breathing momentarily stops. "What—" Her voice is barely a whisper. "What is that?"

I slide away from her quickly, reaching for the photo, but she's faster. She shoves me off her and scrambles away, grabbing the photo before I can stop her.

She stares at it. At her own face circled in red and the notes in the margins—height, weight, the location where it was taken. When she looks up at me, her face is pale and bloodless. I see her gaze flick across the room, to the fallen photo that she found in the jacket. A very similar picture.

"Why do you have this?" Her voice is shaking. "Why do you have a picture of me like this?"

My mind races, trying to find an explanation—any explanation. But there isn't one. There's no innocent reason for me to have a surveillance photo of her, no lie that will make this okay.

"Isabelle—"

"Answer me!" she shouts now, clutching the photo to her chest. "Why do you have this? What is this?"

I open my mouth and close it again, not a single word coming to my lips. There's nothing for me to say. The truth is written all over my face, and I know she can see it.

"Oh my god." She backs away from me, her eyes wide with betrayal. "Oh my god. You—you were?—"

"Isabelle, let me explain?—"

"You were sent to kill me." Her voice rises sharply in pitch. "That's why you have this. That's why you were in Ibiza. That's why you've been helping me. You were hired to kill me."