Page 17 of Wrecked By Rev

I start slow. Deep, grinding thrusts that let her feel every inch of me. She’s gasping, her nails digging into my shoulders, her hips rising to meet me stroke for stroke.

“Harder,” she demands. “I won’t break.”

Something snaps in my chest. I hitch her thighs higher, change the angle, and drive into her hard enough that the headboard cracks against the wall. She screams with pleasure—and I do it again.

“This what you want?” I’m fucking her in earnest now, sweat slicking my skin, the wet sound of our bodies filling the room. “You want me to wreck you?”

“Yes—fuck—right there, don’t stop?—”

I can feel her tightening around me, her whole body tensing. I reach between us and press my thumb against her clit, circling in time with my thrusts.

“Come for me, Angel.” I’m close—so close—but I need to feel her fall apart first. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

She shatters.

Her pussy clamps down on me so hard I see stars, her back arching, my name tearing from her throat. The feel of her coming undone around me drags me over the edge. I bury myself deep and let go with a groan that feels like it’s ripped from somewhere primal.

For a long moment, neither of us moves. I’m still buried inside her, still trying to remember how to breathe. Her hands stroke up and down my back, soft and soothing.

“Stay,” she whispers. “Tonight. Stay.”

I couldn’t leave if I wanted to.

I roll onto my side, taking her with me. She curls against my chest like she belongs there. Maybe she does.

Her fingers trace the ink on my chest. I watch her explore, following the lines of tattoos I’ve had for years. She pauses over one—small letters just below my collarbone.

“Wheels,” she reads softly.

I nod. “Got it after the funeral.”

She stares at it for a long moment. Then she leans up and presses her lips to the ink.

“Thank you,” she whispers against my skin.

I pull her closer. Hold her tight.

The walls are down. There’s no more pretending. Whatever this is between us—it’s real now.

And I’m not letting go.

CHAPTER 5

ANGEL

Iwake up to the smell of coffee and the sound of someone moving around in my kitchen.

For a second, I don’t remember. Then it all comes flooding back—Rev’s hands, Rev’s mouth, Rev’s body over mine and inside mine and everywhere at once. The way he looked at me after, like I was something he’d been waiting for his whole life.

I sit up slowly, pulling the sheet around me. My body aches —muscles I forgot I had reminding me exactly what we did last night. What we did twice, actually, because sometime around two in the morning I woke up to his hands on me again and neither of us could stop.

I should get up. Should shower, get dressed, figure out how to have a normal conversation with the man who just turned my entire world inside out. But I sit there for another minute, listening to him move around my kitchen as if he belongs there.

Like he’s done this a hundred times before.

Like he’s going to do it a hundred times again.

I’m not supposed to want this. I’m not supposed to want him—a biker, a patched member of the club that took my brother from me. Every logical part of my brain is screaming that thisis a mistake, that I’m setting myself up for the worst kind of heartbreak.