Page 10 of Reaper's Desire

He doesn't go slow. He lines himself up and thrusts, sliding all the way into me, and my high-pitched yelp mingles with the low, deep groan of satisfaction that he lets out. His hand squeezes my hip. "No need for that," he murmurs. "You're taking my cock just fine, pretty girl. You look so pretty wrapped around it."

Heat rushes through me, and I arch my back, thrusting back onto him. I don't know why, but I'm determined to be the best fuck this man has ever had. I want him to fucking remember me, and he doesn't even know my name. He might leave without ever knowing it, and I don't care. I just want him to remember this.

I know I'm going to.

He fucks like a god. His cock plunges into me again and again, his hips rolling in a way that seems to push his tip up against the perfect spot inside of me every time. The room is filled with the slapping of flesh and the thick scent of sex and his cologne and my perfume, sweat, and alcohol, and heat. He grabs the champagne bottle from the nightstand where I set it and pours some of it down my back, thrusting hard as he bends down and licks it off my spine. Then he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me up onto my knees while he keeps fucking me, handing me the bottle.

"Finish it off, sweetheart," he purrs in my ear, all the while sinking that thick cock into me without ever stopping. When I obey, lifting the neck of it to my lips, he waits until I've swallowed almost all of it before yanking it away and setting it down, turning my mouth back toward his to kiss me as he licks the last of the champagne out of my mouth.

And I realize, as his tongue tangles with mine and his cock relentlessly thrusts into me, that he's going to make me come just from fucking him. As the orgasm hits, as his hips slap against my ass again, burying all of that thick length into me, I start to spasm around him.

It's so fucking good. I cry out, moaning, the sound swallowed by his kiss and mingling with his groan as he fucks me harder, shuddering as he buries himself into me once more, and I feel him throbbing. A moment later, he pulls out, rolling off of me onto the bed. I hear the wet sound of him removing the condom and tossing it into the wastebasket next to the bed, still breathing hard.

"Fuck," he gasps. "Goddamn, that was?—"

"The best sex of your life?" I purr, rolling toward him and running a finger down his sweaty pecs. "I want to do it again."

"Christ," he groans. "You're going to kill me."

"That's the way all men want to go, right?" I roll off the bed, swaying toward the bar cart, and grab the bottle of whiskey. I can feel his eyes on me as I go, and he groans again.

"I definitely haven't done a good enough job if you're still walking like that." He pushes himself up on his elbows as I approach with the whiskey, and I slap his hand away when he reaches for it.

"Open up, handsome," I purr, my voice slurred from champagne. He eyes me, but obeys, parting his mouth and tilting his head back slightly. I pour some of the whiskey into his mouth, then tilt the bottle back, drinking a slug of it myself. I start to cough the second it hits the back of my throat, and he lets out that barking laugh again, snatching the bottle from my hand and taking another drink himself.

"God, you'll do anything, won't you? You reckless, pretty thing." He swallows more whiskey and sets the bottle aside. "I bet if I had a line of coke right now, you'd snort it."

"Do you?" I eye him, and he shakes his head.

"No. But I'm curious what else you packed in that suitcase over there besides bikinis and tight little dresses. Anything fun? Or did you think you'd get so much dick this weekend that you wouldn't need toys?"

My eyes go wide at that. Most men are threatened by my bedside drawer collection. The one time I tried to bring them out in bed with a guy I was seeing for longer than a few dates, he freaked out and practically had a panic attack. But here, this absolute god of a man wants to know if I broughttoys.

If I knew his name, I might marry him.

"Maybe." I raise an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because I need a minute." He gestures toward his softened cock. "So I thought maybe we'd see how many times I can make you come before I get hard again. I'm guessing two."

Fuck. I wobble to my feet, padding to my suitcase, and fish out a rose-shaped vibrator and a thick seven-inch dildo that's my favorite. I bring both back, and playfully set the dildo down on the bed next to his hip. "I think it's beating you right now."

"Only for a few more minutes." He looks at me pointedly, and despite everything we've done tonight, I feel myself flush.

"Shut up." I hand him the vibrator and lie back on the bed, raising my arms so my tits go all high and wobbly. I see his eyes flash toward them immediately, and I swear I see his dick twitch a little. "You're running out of time to make me come again before you get hard just looking at me."

I see the amusement on his face, but he rolls toward me, lying on one side as he flicks the vibrator on. To my surprise, he doesn't go straight for my clit. Instead, he reaches out, dragging it over first one nipple and then the other, making me gasp.

"I—"

"I said twice. I've got plenty of time to get at least that." He makes another pass over my breasts, and I let out a soft whimper.

"Has anyone ever told you you're arrogant as fuck?"

"Has anyone told you you're spoiled and full of yourself?"

I gasp as the vibrator moves lower, down my taut stomach, but I give him a wounded look. "That actually hurt a little." And it actually did. But I keep my tone playful—I don't want him to know that.

"Let me make it up to you." He bends his head, taking one nipple in his mouth right as he glides the vibrator down to my oversensitive clit.