Page 7 of Reaper's Desire

"Careful," he murmurs, his mouth close to my ear. "You don't know what you're starting."

"Maybe I do," I whisper back, and I feel him go still. For a moment, neither of us moves. The music pounds around us, the crowd presses in, but it feels like we're the only two people in the world.

And then he leans down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, and says, "Do you want to get out of here?"

I don't hesitate. "Yes."

—

We stumbleout of the club and into the warm night air. I'm laughing, breathless, my hand in his as he pulls me down the street. I don't know where we're going. I don't care. All I knowis that I need him—need his hands on me, his mouth on me, everywhere.

"Where?" he asks, his voice rough, and I realize he's asking where we're going.

"My hotel," I gasp. "It's—it's close. Just down the beach. We can get a car."

He doesn't say anything, just pulls me close, and I stumble in my heels, laughing again as I nearly trip. He catches me, his arm around my waist, and suddenly we're pressed together again, his body hard and hot against mine. "You're drunk," he says, and there's a hint of hesitation in his voice. My stomach clenches immediately. There's no way I'm letting this go.

"I know what I want," I tell him, looking up into those dark eyes. "Do you?"

His jaw clenches. For a second, I think he might pull away, might be the responsible one and tell me we should wait, that I should sober up first.

But then his hand slides up to cup the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair, and he says, "Yeah. I do."

And then he's kissing me.

It's not gentle. It's not sweet. It's hungry and demanding and absolutely filthy, his tongue sliding against mine, his teeth catching my bottom lip. I moan into his mouth, my hands fisting in his shirt, and he makes a low sound in his chest that sends heat pooling between my thighs. When he pulls back, we're both breathing hard, and I can feel that hard, heavy arousal against me again.

"Hotel," he says. "Now."

I flag a car, and we tumble into it. He opens the door for me, which I appreciate, and the moment he follows me in, his hand grips my thigh, and I lean into him. His mouth tastes smoky, like whiskey, and I lick along his bottom lip, moaning as I pull his hand between my legs.

"You think you can make me come before we get to the hotel?" I whisper against his mouth, and I see his gaze flick sideways toward the driver for a moment.

"Fuck it," he growls against my lips, and his hand slips fully beneath my dress, teasing my thong to one side.

I gasp the second he touches me. I'm already wet, and I feel his groan when he realizes it. I'm soft and swollen between my thighs from the heat and the dancing, and I feel his first two fingers slide up between my folds, teasing them apart before he reaches my clit.

Electricity buzzes through my veins, and I forget to care about the driver inches away, if I ever did at all. I tilt my hips into his hand, breathing hard as he kisses me while his fingers circle my clit, seeking out the right amount of pressure to make me come apart in the ten minutes before we get to my hotel.

No one has ever made me come that fast, but I think he's going to do it. His fingers are nimble, expert, stroking firmly as his tongue slides into my mouth again with the same rhythm that his fingers have picked up between my thighs. I moan and whimper, arching and twisting against his hand in an eager bid for more pleasure, and he lets out a rough growl against my mouth, yanking me up and forward so that I'm straddling his lap.

"I'm not going to fuck you yet!" I exclaim, slurring a little, and he laughs abruptly, breaking the kiss to push back my hair with his free hand and bite the side of my ear before whispering into it.

"No, sweetheart, you're just going to ride my hand."

And then he pushes two long fingers into me, his thumb settling directly over my clit, and starts to finger me in quick, swift strokes that have me crying out against his mouth.

Already, he's better than anything I've ever had before. I'm not letting him out of my bed until the morning, I decide dimlyin the back of my mind, as his fingers curl inside of me and his lips ghost down my throat. I brace myself against his chest, feeling the heat of his skin against my fingers, the soft dark hair there, the dampness of sweat on his skin. He groans at my touch, abdomen flexing, and I can imagine how hard he is, straining against his pants with the urge to get inside me.

I roll my hips against his hand, fucking his fingers into me. The driver can probably see my ass if he looks in the rearview mirror, and I don't care, not until the man beneath me grabs the hemline riding up and jerks it down sharply, his teeth nipping at my throat as he drives his fingers harder into me.

"That's just mine tonight," he growls, andfuck, that does it.

I come all over his hand. I feel myself clenching around his fingers, and I hear his muffled groan against my neck as my pussy flutters and grips him, my arousal soaking his hand as his thumb rubs my clit. "Fuck," he groans. "Good fucking girl. That's it. Keep fucking coming."

Fuck, it doesn't stop. Instead of a few quick, bright flashes of pleasure like other hookups, the orgasm seems to well up from deep within my core and flood through me, pulsing through my body like the music from earlier. The kind of orgasm I've only ever had with a really good vibrator and dildo combination, and this man did it with hishand.

I'm going to fuck him until he can't get it up any longer.