Page 88 of Reaper's Desire

"Good," I say, my voice still breathless. "That's very good."

He looks at me, pleading, and a smile crawls over my lips.

"I said, not unless you can come without touching yourself. So go ahead. Try again." I spread my thighs, pushing myself up on my elbows and letting him see me, swollen and wet from arousal and my orgasm. His cock jerks, fresh pre-cum spillingdown the shaft, and his hands flex as a moan spills from his lips. "Eat me out, Julian, and don't touch your cock until you come while your mouth is on me."

24

JULIAN

I'm on my knees, my face buried between her thighs, and I'm losing my fucking mind.

The taste of her floods my senses, and my entire body is wound so tight I think I might shatter. My hands grip her thighs hard enough to bruise, my fingers digging into soft flesh, and it's the only thing preventing me from breaking the rules she's set and touching myself, stroking my aching cock until I find the release that's been building for what feels like hours.

But I can't. She told me not to. And despite everything—despite having ended lives with these same hands, despite being someone who takes orders from no one—I'm following her command like it's the only thing that matters in the world.

I want her forgiveness. I want her to give me everything. I need anything she'll let me have, any concession she's willing to make toward understanding, and I'll do anything for it. Even force myself not to touch my cock for the first time in my life, desperate for release and denying it.

My erection throbs between my legs, hard and leaking and desperate for attention. Every time my tongue circles her clit, every time she gasps or moans or tightens her fingers in my hair,my cock pulses in response. The need is so intense it's almost painful, a constant ache that radiates through my entire body. I'm trembling with the effort of keeping control, my muscles locked tight, sweat beading on my forehead and running down my spine.

She tastes like heaven and damnation all at once. Like everything I've ever wanted and everything I know I shouldn't have. I work my tongue against her, wanting her to come again, wanting to come myself, and I feel like I'm unraveling myself from the inside out. I don't know why I haven't come yet, despite the fact that I haven't touched my erection once. I'm so hard it feels like I should have come multiple times by now, but my cock refuses to tip over that edge, as if my body feels like I haven't earned forgiveness yet, either.

My jaw aches. My neck is cramping. My knees are screaming against the hard floor. And I don't fucking care. All I care about is making her come, proving to her that I can follow her rules, that I can give her what she needs, even when it's killing me. That I can be what she wants me to be, even if it means destroying myself in the process.

She's close again. I can feel it in the way her thighs tremble against my hands, in the way her breathing has gone ragged and uneven, in the way her fingers tighten almost painfully in my hair. She's riding my face with increasing urgency, using my mouth for her pleasure, and the power she has over me in this moment is exhilarating. I've never experienced anything like it with anyone, never been willing to crawl and beg and degrade myself for a woman. I'm always the dominant one, the one in control.

But for her, I'd do anything. Beg. Plead. Crawl. Ache.

Die.

I flatten my tongue against her clit, and she cries out, her hips jerking. I can feel my own release building in response,coiling tighter and tighter at the base of my spine. I'm not getting any physical stimulation beyond the taste of her on my tongue and the sound of her pleasure in my ears, but it's happening anyway.

My cock is so hard it's almost purple, the head and shaft slick with pre-cum, and every pulse sends a jolt of sensation through me that borders on pain. My balls are drawn up tight, aching with the need to release. The tension in my body has reached a breaking point, every muscle coiled like a spring wound too tight, and I know—Iknow—that when she comes, I'm going to come too.

And I'm desperate to give her what she needs, even if it means losing myself completely.

She gasps, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Her thighs are shaking against my face, her entire body trembling with the approach of her orgasm. I can feel it building in her, can sense the exact moment when she's about to tip over the edge, and I double down, working my tongue against her clit with relentless precision.

"Julian—oh god, Julian, I'm?—"

The sound of my name moaned on her lips makes me shudder and groan, my cock jerking between my thighs. She comes with a cry that echoes through the hotel room, her body convulsing, her thighs clamping around my head. I feel her pulsing against my tongue, feel the flood of wetness, and something inside mebreaks.

My own orgasm hits me like a punch to the gut, so intense and unexpected that I cry out against her, the sound muffled by her flesh. My cock pulses violently, untouched, and I feel myself coming in hot spurts that paint the floor beneath me. The pleasure is overwhelming, almost painful in its intensity, radiating out from my groin in waves that make my entire body shake. It's humiliating, and exhilarating, and absolutelydevastating, and I can't stop the sounds that tear from my throat as I ride out the waves of my release.

Isabelle pulls back from me, her body still trembling with aftershocks, and I collapse forward onto my hands, gasping for breath. My arms are shaking so badly I can barely hold myself up. My cock is still twitching, still leaking, and I can't breathe.

I'm a trained assassin. A former special forces soldier. A man who's killed more people than he can count. And she just made me come without even touching me.

She's unmade me, stripped away every layer of control and dominance until there's nothing left but raw, desperate need.

And God, I still fucking need her. My cock has softened slightly, but it would take nothing to get me hard again.

I look up at her through the hair that's fallen into my eyes, and she's staring down at me with an expression I can't quite read. "Did you just—?" she starts to ask, her voice breathless.

"Yes." My voice rasps. "I came. Without touching myself. Just from?—"

She stares at me. We're both breathing hard, the air between us charged with electricity. And I still don't know how she managed to break through every defense I've ever built. All I know is that I'm lying on a hotel room floor in Rome, covered in my own release, having just experienced the most intense orgasm of my life without a single touch to my cock.

She's destroyed me. Completely and utterly destroyed me.