by Geri Glenn
When his fingertips curl over the cup of my bra and yank it down, that question disappears. He takes my nipple between his thumb and finger and pinches tight, rolling it while he nips and licks at my neck. His hips and mine rock together, gaining as much friction as we can between his cock and my ass.
“Jesus,” he mutters, abandoning my breast as he reaches for the button on my jeans. They pop open effortlessly, and before I know it, his entire hand is inside my pants, his fingertips searching out and zeroing in on my clit. He rubs the pad of his finger across it, sending a shiver through my body before dipping it lower and sliding a finger inside of me. “Fuck.”
I whimper and rock my hips as he presses it in and out, in and out, his wrist pressing and rolling against my clit with the perfect amount of pressure. I know I should stop him. Hell, he’s probably still drunk and doesn’t even realize what the hell he’s doing. It’s no secret he doesn’t like me, but his hand. Oh, God.
Reaper
My cock gets harder with every breath Anna puffs out, as my hand works at her pussy. Fuck, she’s so goddamn wet. Her moans of pleasure fill the room, drowning out the unwelcome thoughts of what I have to do later today, of having to track down Laurie once and for all and tell her that her mother is dead. That she herself broke her mother’s fucking heart and killed her.
Anna’s body starts to tremble, her tight little pussy clamping down around my fingers, drawing them in even deeper, chasing away the unpleasant thoughts. I slip my fingers in and out of her a few more times, her body jerking and shuddering every time I graze her clit. I bury my nose in the crook of her neck and press my lips to her heated skin. That fruity smell from last night is still there, stinging my nose in the most intoxicating way as I nip at a tiny freckle on her shoulder.
Anna’s hand comes up and cups the back of my neck, riding my hand as she comes, her fingers digging into my hair and tugging it just enough to sting. Just the way I like it. When she’s finished, I don’t waste time. I tug on her pants a little. “Get ’em off.”
She doesn’t hesitate. I roll away and make quick work of removing my own as Anna slips her jeans down her legs and over her feet, tossing them onto the floor beside the bed. I don’t take my eyes off her as I reach into my nightstand, fishing around for a condom. “Shirt too,” I growl as I rip open the wrapper with my teeth.
When she lifts that tight little shirt over her head, I could fucking cry. I knew her tits would be incredible, but these are by far the most amazing breasts I’ve ever seen. Full and round, tipped with dusky pink nipples, complete with a tiny brown freckle of the left one. Perfect.
I have her nipple in my mouth before she even has the shirt tossed to the floor, my other hand cupping and squeezing the other one, pinching the nipple between my fingertips. I climb over her, settling my hips between her open legs, my mouth and hands paying homage to her incredible tits with licks, sucks, and nips as she writhes beneath me.
Anna’s tiny hand comes up and wraps itself around my aching cock. She squeezes a little and fists it, sliding her hand up and down in a rhythm that is slow at first, but quickly picks up as our breathing becomes more erratic.
Finally, I can take it no longer. I need to be inside her before I waste this condom and come in her skillful little fucking hand. Lowering myself over top of her, I hook my arms under her knees and lift them, spreading her wide as I plant my hands in the bed on either side of her.
Normally, I’d just drive myself inside her and not even look at her face, other than to see if what I’m doing is working for her, but something in her eyes catches my attention. There’s a vulnerability there that I hadn’t expected to see.
She stares up at me, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide. Her big brown eyes watch me as I move, and I can’t help myself. As I slip inside her, I lower my face to hers and kiss her. I never kiss the women I fuck. I fuck them. I give them pleasure, and I always take my own, but I never put my mouth on theirs. Most of the women I’ve fucked in the last few years wrap their lips around several cocks a day, and I don’t want that shit anywhere near my mouth.
Anna’s lips move with mine, and I have to pause to take it all in. The pleasure in my cock from her tight wet pussy is enough to bring any man to his knees, but pair that with the unexpected emotion I feel from this kiss and I feel like I’m fucking floating on air, the only thing keeping me tethered to the ground is this infuriating woman beneath me.
“Fuck,” I whisper as I bury myself inside her, as far as I can possibly go, and drag my cock back out again. My tongue moves in unison with my cock, tasting her as I plunge inside her heat. Her scent surrounds me, and I drown in her as I fuck her.
The low keening moans Anna releases are like music to my fucking soul, and I keep thrusting, harder and deeper, angling my body so my cock slides along her tiny little button of a clit. I feel my release building, coiling low in my belly, ready to shove me over the edge and into a blissful state of oblivion, but I can’t let go. Not yet. Not until I know what it feels like to have her explode around my dick. To hear her cries muffled beneath my mouth.
Growling, I dig my fingers into her waist and flip us, keeping our bodies connected. Anna’s on top of me now, her lip caught between her teeth and her hips don’t stop moving. I stare up at her, at the way her long dark hair drapes over her shoulders, the tips curling up and brushing against her fully erect nipples. A flush covers her body as she rolls her body faster and faster, her beautiful pussy sliding all over my dick.
“Oh, God,” she whispers, and I feel her tighten around me. Her body starts to quiver and her hips falter. She’s there.
Gripping her hips, I yank her down onto me while driving my hips up. Her tits bounce with each powerful thrust as I impale her on my cock, which feels like it may burst at any second. Her moans turn to cries, gasps, and screams, her shoulders heaving as she presses her hands against my chest and holds on for dear life.
I feel the moment the climax carries her away, and not wanting it to end, I jump off with her, pulling her lips to mine with my fist in her hair. It’s the longest fucking orgasm of my life.
Anna
I just fucked Reaper. Reaper just fucked me. No, Reaper didn’t just fuck me, he fucked the holy hell out of me, and I can’t move a goddamn muscle. I’m draped across his chest, his softening dick still inside of me as we both just lay here, trying to catch our breaths.
The longer I lie here, the more I think. What the hell just happened? How could I have done this? How could I have the most amazing sex of my life with a man that hates my fucking guts?
The questions swirl around inside my head and I start to feel so very stupid. My naked tits are pressed against his bare chest, and I feel like a fool. I need to get out of here. I feel the sting of tears in my eyes as I shift my body, and am mortified when I feel his cock slip out of me, breaking the last of our connection.
Placing my hands over my breasts, I sit up and turn my back to him, my feet hanging over the bed as I search the floor for my clothes.
“Where are you going?” he asks, his voice still husky and full of sex.
“Home,” I say, not wanting to drag out the humiliation I feel. Where the hell are my clothes?
The bed shifts behind me as Reaper moves, and I feel his heat behind me. His arm wraps around my waist and my eyes fall closed, the fight leaving me far too easily. “Stay,” he whispers.
I open my eyes and look over my shoulder at him. His hand comes up and cups the back of my head as he brings it to his and drags his mouth across mine, his stubble tickling my face.
I’m powerless to avoid his touch. It’s like the man plays me like a musical instrument in a symphony, and I don’t have the strength to fight him. I fall into him, my body turning to follow him and his lips as he lies back down on the bed, his fingers tangled in my hair.
His kiss is demanding and hot, making my toes curl. When he pulls away, I’m breathless, but I comply as he rests my head on his chest and moves to settle me along his si
de.
“I’ll stay,” I whisper.
Reaper holds me to him, his fingers combing through my hair, dragging pieces of it all the way out and letting them fall to my bare shoulder. Neither one of us speaks.
I allow my gaze to drift around the room, and pop up on an elbow when I see it. A fat, extremely fluffy striped cat with wide yellow eyes is sitting on what looks to be a flowered sweater, laying over a chair in the corner of the room, its eyes on us, its tail curled primly around its front feet.
“You have a cat?” I squeak out in surprise.
“Huh?” he says, lifting his head to follow my gaze. “Oh, yeah, that. I guess I do. Don’t let her fool ya, though. She’s a total psycho.”
So many questions from just those few words, but I start with just one. “What’s her name?”
He’s quiet for a moment before he says, “Priscilla.”
I gape at Priscilla and her flowered sweater, and think on that for a second. Then I laugh. I laugh long and hard until tears slip down my cheeks and onto Reaper’s tattooed chest.
“Fuck off,” he grumbles, but there’s a smile in his voice.
I force myself to settle, but I’m still sporting an enormous grin when I look down into his face. “I think it’s lovely that your kitty’s name is Priscilla, and has a flowery sweater in your room to lie on.” And then I lose it again.
Reaper chuckles with me, and I love the feel of his chest rumbling beneath me as his laughter washes away the rest of my earlier discomfort. “She’s not my fuckin’ cat, wiseass. If she were, her name would be asshole or dickhead, or somethin’ like that.” The rumble in his chest slows as his face grows serious. “She was my mother-in-law’s. I brought her home last night after the ambulance took her body away. The sweater was hers too. Thought Sharon’s scent might make her more at home.”
My smile dies too as I watch the cat watching us, and every negative thing I’d ever thought about Reaper flies out the window. He may be an asshole sometimes, but he’s also a man that takes in his dead ex-mother-in-law’s cat and is kind enough to bring along a memento for her to adjust more easily to her new home.
I pull my eyes from the cat and look down at Reaper once more. He’s watching me with an expression I can’t quite place, but I don’t even try. Instead, I lower my mouth to his, unable to believe I have the freedom to do that. The kiss is soft and sweet, and not meant to spur on round two of our previous sexcapades.
When I pull away, he asks, “What was that for?”
“You’re a good man, Reaper.” There’s a lump in my throat now, but I manage to get the words out around it.
He releases a long breath through his nose. “Yeah,” he admits. “But don’t tell anyone else that shit. Street cred and all that.”
I just grin and kiss him again.
Reaper
I get up to take a leak, and when I come back, Anna’s lying under the covers, her hands stroking a purring Priscilla who’s managed to curl up beside her, enjoying every stroke of her fingers. I watch her for a moment, taking advantage of her distraction. I was drunk last night, but I remember every single detail, and I definitely remember asking her to stay.
I just don’t know why I’d asked her. Maybe I was hoping to get laid. Maybe I wanted a distraction. Maybe I just didn’t want to be alone. I never dreamed we’d end up like this, though, her curled up in my bed like she belongs there, petting that fucking cat I never thought I’d have to live with ever again, and me watching from the doorway, loving every fucking minute of it.
She looks up at me, and her soft smile fades a little. “She likes you,” I say, stepping into the room. “Stupid cat never liked anybody but Sharon.”
“She must miss her,” she says, dragging the flat of her palm from the top of the cat’s head, all the way down her body. “You really don’t like this cat, do you?”
I sigh and go to the bed. Sitting on the edge, I stroke down the cat’s back, just behind Anna’s hand. Her eyes close and her purring grows louder. “She belonged to my ex,” I confess. “When she split, she dropped the cat with her mother, and Sharon’s had her ever since.”
“She’s old then,” Anna surmises.
I hadn’t really thought about it, but yeah, I guess she is. Explains why she’s so slow these days. “About eighteen years, I guess.”
“Do you still talk to her? Your ex-wife?”
“No,” I say. Standing and lifting up the covers, I shove Priscilla aside so she lies between us. I lie on my side and face her. “Been tryin’ to find that bitch for days now, tell her to lay off her mother, but she’s good at hidin’ when she doesn’t wanna be found.”
“You said she left you?” My eyes meet hers and I take in her face. I’m a private person and don’t share the skeletons in my closet with anyone, but she looks sincere and curious. I know the feeling. “I’m sorry” she says, tearing her gaze from mine. “It’s none of my business.”
“It’s fine,” I say, looking back to the cat and petting her once more. “Tell you what. I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours.”
Her eyes widen, and I can hear the air filling her lungs as she sucks in a breath. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.” I hold her wary stare.
“I’ve only ever told one person my story,” she says, looking back down at the cat, her fingers scratching beneath her chin. “Knox is the only one that knows.”
This confession has me clenching my teeth, and I struggle to fight back the jealousy I feel. “You and Knox were a thing?”
She laughs softly. “Not exactly. Everyone kind of assumed we were, but we were just friends. We got each other, you know?”
I don’t know. I’ve met Knox and he’s a big fucking guy. A man’s man. The type of man that doesn’t take shit from anyone, and I have a hard time believing he could be “just friends” with a woman without fucking her brains out. An image of him fucking Anna from behind flashes through my mind and I have to shove it back and change the subject.
“So, we have a deal?”
Anna’s lip disappears between her teeth. “All right, it’s a deal. On two conditions.” I cock a brow. “One, you don’t tell anyone what I tell you. It stays between us.”
“Same,” I reply.
“And two, you go first.”
This had been my idea, but suddenly, I wish I’d kept my fucking mouth shut. I’ve never been one to share, and I’ve spent years burying my past. I don’t think about it, and I sure as hell don’t talk about it. But I’d started this, and if the reward is finally figuring out who Anna really is, then my mission will be accomplished. I just hope it’s worth it.
“All right,” I say, propping my head on my hand. “I’ll give you the Cliff’s Notes version. Met Laurie in high school, fell in love and married her as soon as we were legal, then joined the army. My grandmother was my only family. My dad died in a car accident when I was two, and my mom took off shortly after that. I don’t remember her, and I haven’t heard from her since. Laurie’s family became my family.”
Anna doesn’t move as I speak, her wide eyes showcasing her every emotion as she listens. “Gram didn’t like Laurie. Should have fuckin’ listened to her when she tried to talk me out of marryin’ her. But I was young and impulsive, drunk on pussy and great head.”
I sigh and flop back onto the bed, unable to meet her gaze for another second. I stare up the ceiling and keep talking. “We were married two years when she found out she was pregnant. That same day, I was told I was being sent on a tour to Bosnia for six months. Laurie wasn’t happy, but I was fuckin’ thrilled. I loved kids, and had always wanted to be a father.”
I turn my head and glance over at Anna. Her eyes are filled with tears, but she gives me a soft, encouraging smile. This next part is the hard part, and whether she knows it or not, I needed that smile to finish.
“I went to Bosnia. That’s a whole other story in itself, but while I was there, I did and saw a lot of shit I can’t ever forget. I finis
hed out my tour, expecting to come home to Laurie and a baby ready to come any day. Instead, I found an empty house, a bank account that had been bled dry, and a bill for her abortion. She’d terminated the pregnancy the day I left the country.” Anna gasps and reaches for my arm, her hand squeezing as a tear rolls down her cheek.
“By the time I came home, she’d started up an affair with one of my buddies and moved in with him. Who knows? Maybe she’d been fuckin’ him all along. I divorced her ass but she fought me, wanting a chunk of the money I got from my tour. Once I proved she’d been fuckin’ around, she lost that battle. I haven’t spoken to her much since, but I’ve stayed close with her parents. Her father died a couple years ago. Bitch didn’t even come to his funeral. I’ve been taking care of her mom since then. Until now.”
Anna
Reaper’s story is heartbreaking. I’ve never even met this Laurie bitch and I want to wring her neck. “She’s an idiot,” I say, unable to imagine walking away from a good life like she had. “There are a lot of men out there, and not all of them are good. Most of us will never find a man like you, and for her to just throw that away proves she’s got a screw loose. Maybe more than one.”
He lets out a low chuckle. “You can say that again.”
“I’m sorry she did that to you.” And I am. Picturing him coming home, expecting to see his pregnant wife after being away to war and finding an empty house, along a bill for an abortion is unfathomable. What kind of person does that?
“Your turn,” he says, not hiding the fact that he needs a subject change. “What’s your story?”
My heart sinks. “I don’t know where to start,” I whisper, unable to meet his eyes.
His hand comes out and catches my chin, tilting my face on the pillow so that I’m staring straight at him. “How about you start with how you got hooked on drugs?” If only it were that simple. If he wants to know about the drugs, he’ll have to hear about the rest, and that’s the part I hate talking about. “How old were you?”
