Reaper's Claim: The Finale

Trigger

I knew I shouldn’t have been doing this.

But damn, it felt so good.

The salty taste of her skin on my lips, the sweetness of her mouth on my tongue, and the incredible sensation of her naked body straddling my equally bare lap.

We were on the edge of her bed, which creaked under us as she moved up and down on my cock. It almost seemed unfair that she was doing all the work.

Almost.

The friction between us was electric, and I could feel each spark as I ran my calloused fingertips over her thighs and smooth, round ass. Her scars were silky and extra sensitive, so I was careful not to grab her too roughly, but damn, she was beautiful.

Every day, every minute we were apart, was torture. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t stop staring at the mischievous curl of her lips or the wide, playful shape of her clear, blue eyes. I wanted to memorize the slope of her jaw and the graceful line of her arching neck.

There were more scars there too, but they only made her more stunning. Each scar was a testament to her bravery and strength.

I thrust upwards, and she tilted her head back, exposing her neck. I leaned in to kiss it, tracing a path to her gravity-defying breasts. They weren’t fake, but they were so bouncy it was hard to believe how such large breasts could be this agile.

I took a mouthful of her delicate breast and sucked.

She yelped in pleasure, grinding harder and tightening around me in response. I released one breast, lapping at the other with my tongue.

She leaned back farther, and I easily caught her curving frame in my hands. My dick slipped in a little more, and the noise escaping her mouth quickened my pace. Her breasts moved with such abandon, but I knew I could make them move even faster.

So I did.

Using the springs of the mattress, we bounced up and down. I swear I heard the frame of the bed splinter. But I was hypnotized by the swirling, voluptuous movements her breasts made in our carnal thrusting.

“Faster!” she demanded, and I obeyed. “Faster, Trigger! I’m so close!”

She was so light in my arms that the command was my easy pleasure.

Sweat and other sticky fluids dripped between us. The salty tang of our sex filled the air, and it drove me harder as she screamed my name.

“Yes! Trigger!” She twisted and trembled and relaxed.

But I wasn’t done with her.

Supporting her whole weight, I stood, still coupled with her on my dick. She gasped and giggled in awe as we easily switched places.

Now she lay on the bed while I towered above her. I lifted her legs from my hips to my chest, angling her pelvis upward ever so slightly. The repositioning allowed me to plunge into her deeper than before, hitting her in the spot I knew would send her into a frenzy.

My shaft has a little upward curve to it, which made pissing a challenge, but fucking? Well, I knew in certain positions I could hit her g-spot every time like an expert marksman.

I pressed against her, and she spread her arms wide, twisting the sheets in her fists. Our eyes locked, and she opened her mouth to say something, but all that managed to escape was the high whimper of my name.

I drew back and pressed again with more force.

“Trigger!” She managed to scream my name this time, but now that I had her here, prostrate before me and fluttering at my touch, I wanted her to say something else. I needed her to call me by my real name, not the one the club gave me. Not the ones my enemies fear. The one no one else knew.

“Flynn,” I corrected between slow advances of my cock. “My. Name. Is. Flynn.”

“Flynn,” she repeated my name with that tinkling laughter I loved so much.

I reached down and stroked her clit as her hands moved from the sheets to her breasts.

“Flynn!” She yelled my name as she rubbed her breasts, playing and twisting her nipples.

Her ankles locked behind my neck as our lustful movements quickened. She hadn’t closed her eyes, and neither had I. Our salacious slaps of skin to skin were loud and wet. There was no soft rhythm between us.

Only grunts and moans, and wanton vulgar need.

I felt it coming, the searing body-numbing pleasure of our climax. It traveled through me like fire. My blood was passion-stoked lava that flowed under my skin. It flowed in my veins and erupted inside her as she gushed all over me.

We stared at each other for countless seconds, unable to look away.

Until exhaustion caught up with us, and she melted into the mattress with a self-satisfied sigh as I slipped out of her. My legs, like jelly, gave out as I collapsed on the bed next to her.

She tugged me closer, placing my sweat-drenched head on her equally moist breast. Even now, I’m still held by the spell they cast over me. We snuggled in post-sex bliss, my eyelids heavy and drowsy.

But they flew open when I felt her hand at the base of my cock, playing along the curve of my balls.

I laughed. “You’re gonna have to give me a minute, you nymph.”

“No, I don’t.” She winked as she sat up, rolling me on my back. Her head moved southward to the base of my dick and she gave it a playful lick.

I closed my eyes with a smile and allowed her to show me how ready she was to take care of me.

Her appetite was as ravenous as my own.

This… this is why I could never say no to her.

* * *

The shower was still running; all I could think about was the warm water dripping down her back, cascading in rivulets over her pale, naked skin. I’d already fucked her in the shower too, but I really needed to get moving. My heart raced again, and though my dick was rubbed fucking raw, it was already swollen and ready to go again.

I looked at my dick.

“Do you know no shame?” I asked it.

They call me Trigger for more reasons than just my quick temper. I shut my eyes, took a few calming breaths, and tried to slow my racing heart. I thought about all the crap I’d have to deal with when I got back to the southern charter H.Q.

The thought of my presidential duties was a real buzzkill.

I glanced at my cell and— damn; it was way later than I thought.

I’d stopped by for my usual monthly grocery delivery. No one was supposed to be home, as per our arrangement. But today was anything but usual. I’d only planned to drop off the groceries… well… I guess I did, I smirked to myself.

Meanwhile, my VP was blowing up my phone with texts.

It was already 4:45 p.m.

I hit the send button, and it went off with a swoosh.

I tossed my cell back on the bed. That wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either. Screw it. I finished drying off and hung up my towel.

With a sigh, I went over to my discarded clothes. I picked them up one by one, putting them on in the reverse order they’d been ripped off.

I dressed quickly, knowing I needed to leave before the shower shut off, or I’d never leave at all.

Once my last boot was laced, I stomped my way downstairs, headed for the door, and— SHIT. I realized I hadn’t put away any of the groceries. Not the eggs. Not the ice cream or raw meats. It was going to be a disaster. I’d have to make another trip to the market.

But that did mean I’d have to come back sooner than my usual three-week schedule.

I went to the kitchen to see what I could salvage and stopped short.

The groceries had been put away.

“Good afternoon, Flynn,” Drake said from behind me.

I spun around. “How— what—”

“Where she goes, I go, remember?” Drake said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Class at Uni was canceled. Why do you think you even got the chance to see her today?”

I could feel the veins in my neck pulsing with anger.

He stepped around me, opened the fridge, and pulled out a beer.

“I swear.” Drake cracked open the can and took a sip. “It was impossible studying with you two going at it like animals. Even my dick was chafing with the record you set today. And I need my study time. That girl is whip-smart, and I can’t keep an eye on her in the same classes if I fail.”

I didn’t have a comeback.

I shouldn’t have been here, and as much as I’d love to shove that can right up his ass… he was right.

I shook my head. “You’re lucky you’re Reaper’s kin.”

“I’m not the only lucky one,” Drake winked.

I flipped him off and left.

Reaper

I looked at Abby, her eyes blazing with a fiery blue intensity.

I looked at the screen again.

Damn.

“Meeting’s over,” I told the crew.

But nobody moved.

Abby was already furiously typing a response to Amber on her phone.

“You heard the prez,” Roach shouted. “Get moving; we’re done. Show your ticket at the range tomorrow and get your reward.”

Chairs scraped against the concrete floor as the bikers hastily got up. It wasn’t that they didn’t listen to me, it’s that they wanted to see the drama unfold between Abby and me. I couldn’t blame them; we had enough drama to rival any daytime soap opera.

Or so I’ve been told.

I wouldn’t know since I never watched the damn things.

“She’s not responding.” Abby bit her lip. “What do you think she means?”

“How should I know?” I snapped. “She’s your sister.”

“And she’s part of our plan to get inside information,” she shot back loudly, then dropped to a harsh whisper. “She’s why we even knew about the abandoned camp last night. She’s been risking getting caught as a spy for us.”

“Good thing only one other person here knows she’s your sister.”

We both looked at Roach pointedly.

He cleared his throat. “Good thing too.”

There was a commotion outside the lounge doors.

Abby reacted before I did, yanking the door open, not even waiting for me, but she stopped so suddenly I almost ran into her.

I could see why.

Every one of my men, even a few of the waitresses, had their guns drawn.

In the middle of the restaurant, surrounded by deadly weapons, stood an injured and bleeding man wearing a HellBound vest. The tattoo of a large gun wreathed in flame took up most of his bulging forearm. HellBound through and through, you could only sport the ink if you’d passed their hazing process.

That process?

Taking a life.

He had no weapon and, in fact, seemed to be protecting someone. I stepped to the left and got a clear view of the small back of a delicate woman. Then she turned to face me.

She was so pregnant I was scared she’d give birth right then and there.

“Please,” the HellBound member gasped, his breathing heavy. “Don’t hurt us. She’s more important than you know. Amber said you’d help.”

“Amber?” Abby asked. “How do you know Amber? Who are you?”

The HellBound guy swallowed hard, “It doesn’t matter who I am. But Emma is, and so is the child she carries.”

“Who’s the father?” I asked cautiously but feared the answer.

“Blake’s,” he answered.

Another safety was switched off.

I turned my gaze to Abby.

She had pulled out her gun, aiming it directly at the expectant mother.