A Ruthless Christmas by K.L. Savage
Reaper has been so cranky lately. I know everything has been tense. There’s still a lingering tension between me and Tongue, and Tongue and Reaper. Tongue accidentally stabbed me, thinking I was his uncle. He was upset, his mind racing as he went back in time to when his uncle did unspeakable things to him. The other members found his journals, journals I didn’t even know about, and they looked through them without his permission.
Tongue broke.
He was only fighting for himself, and I don’t blame him for that.
But we got into a fight. He said things, I said things, and now we don’t say anything to each other.
I miss my best friend. Not that he needs me anymore; he has Daphne. Who is beyond perfect for him and so damn sweet that I don’t even know how they work. No, that’s not true. Tongue is sweet, kind, and fragile. No one would know that they have to handle him with ease because he’s big, bad, and scary.
He’s happy, and I miss him. I want to know how he’s doing, but I’m too nervous to confront him. Our pride is getting in the way of making amends, and I don’t know how to lower the wall that’s been built between us.
All I can do is hope when the right time comes, everything will resolve itself.
Like my wound. It was deep, but it healed quicker than Doc thought, and now I’m back on my feet. I got cleared for sex weeks ago.
And I’m going to make Reaper’s day and make him happier than a damn clam. I open the baby pink box I got downtown from the lingerie shop Juliette used to work at and grin when I see a handwritten note from Trixie.
“Go get’em, tiger.”
Gosh, she’s such a hoot. She doesn’t hang around much; actually, she doesn’t at all, and I don’t understand why. Reaper says Trixie finds it too painful to be around the club because her brother Hawk died. Sometimes I forget Trixie is related to me and Boomer. We aren’t close, but I think she does that intentionally. She must miss Hawk fiercely not to want to be around her family. I can’t blame her. If Reaper ever died, I think I’d want to be alone too. Being around everyone that knew him and loved him would be too hard to handle.
Shaking my head to get out of the depressing thought, I peel back the tissue paper and pick up the red top. It’s leather with white fuzzy cups for my breasts to mimic a Santa outfit. The panties are leather too, but there is something special about them I think he’ll like.
They’re crotchless.
My cheeks heat from the reaction I’m imagining in my head from Reaper. After everything we’ve shared in the bedroom, I can’t believe I still blush. He makes me feel so innocent all the time, and the sex gets better with every thrust.
Oh wow, it just got hot in here. I fan myself and take a deep breath. I don’t know why I get so nervous every time I dress up for him. I know he loves me more than anything, but a small part of me always thinks he won’t like it.
“Doll, you okay in there?” He knocks on the door, and my heart leaps up to my throat. I hold the top to my chest and close my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Is your stomach okay? Are you in pain?”
And then my heart drops back to my chest when I feel his love seep through the door. He’s been worried sick about my wound healing. Every now and then I get a sharp pain, but I’m fine. There’s no reason to tell anyone about it.
“I’m fine,” I finally speak up. “Did Doc bandage you up from the wild swamp kitty attack?” I giggle at my joke. Reaper can be such a baby sometimes, which is hilarious, since he’s the most badass man I’ve ever met in my life.
“I’m fine,” he huffs. “’Tis but a flesh wound,” he quotes in an accent from Monty Python and the Holy Grail movie we watched the other night.
He says the damn sentence every chance he gets now. It’s adorable, but somehow, he relates it to everything.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I say, taking off my top to get the show on the road.
“Okay, Doll, I’ll be waiting for you. I thought we could go for a ride today? It’ll be cold, but the day is pretty.”
Oh, we’re going for a ride alright. Just not the kind he’s expecting. “Sure, baby. That’s sounds good.”
“I’ll wait for you out here.”
Yeah, we aren’t going anywhere.
I slip the leather bra under my breasts, then spin it around and hook my arms through the straps. Wow, it’s tight. My eyebrows reach my hairline in appreciation. My boobs are pushed up as high as they can go. Damn, they look good. I run my fingers through the white fuzz along the hem of the cups as the red leather shines in the light of the bathroom.
I slip off my pants and panties next, but before I can put on the second half of Reaper’s surprise, a sharp pain ignites through the scar on my abdomen. I double over, catching myself on the edge of the sink. It’s like Tongue’s knife is stabbing me all over again. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, then just like that, it’s gone.
I finish dressing, then grab the pair of black thigh-high leather boots and pull them on. Thinking about Reaper already has me wet and aching. I fluff my hair by flipping it over and running my fingers through it. Next, I put on some cherry lip gloss and smirk at myself in the mirror.
Oh yeah, the only place we’re going is the bed.
I open the door and see that he has his back to me. He’s in briefs, changing his clothes to get ready for the bike ride he thinks we’re going on, and his shoulders flex as he digs through the dresser drawers.
God, he’s fucking sexy.
I lean against the wall, stick my leg out, and clear my throat.
“Have you seen my Ruthless Kings shirt? The one with the hole in the armpit? I know, I need to toss it, but it’s my favorite.”
“Yeah, I’m wearing it,” I lie, but it has him turning around, showing off his impressive eight-pack abs. He’s so sexy. I love that he’s getting some more gray around his temples too. A gush of hot liquid leaves me as I stare at him, eating him up from head to toe.
I don’t miss the noticeable bulge in his underwear. The big, thick, bulge that my pussy was made for.
He doesn’t say a word. He is speechless.
“I was wondering, Jesse,” I purr his name which has him gripping his cock. “Have you been naughty?” I rub my hands down my torso seductively, then up again, grabbing my breasts. “Or nice?”
He growls, then charges toward me in loud, pounding footsteps. He wraps a strong arm around my waist and picks me up. My legs wrap around his hips, and my crotchless panties rub against him, soaking his briefs with the lust he causes me to feel. He senses something different and slides one hand between us, dipping his fingers through my exposed folds.
“I’ve been real fucking naughty,” he rumbles, sinking two fingers inside of me.
I moan, a jaw-dropping sensation taking over my body as he pumps into me, preparing me for the long, thick intrusion he’s about to give me.
“You’re never allowed to wear anything else ever again.” He brings his hand from between my legs and stuffs the two fingers in my mouth. I let my tongue wrap around his thick digits, letting the sweet nectar slide down my throat. He loves it when I taste myself. “Looks like I’m not the only one who’s been naughty,” he says with hooded eyes as I suck his fingers like I would his cock.
He holds me by the meat of my ass and carries me to the bed in two steps. The soft comforter hits my back, and I sink into the soft pillowtop of the mattress. Reaper appreciates my body, slinking his hands up and down every curve before parting my legs. He closes his eyes when he sees me, then licks his lips. He takes my left ankle and places it on top of his shoulder, then does the same with my right.
His shaggy hair hangs in his face as he rubs his cheeks against the leather boots while staring at my pussy. Reaper slides up while wrapping my legs around his waist and finally kisses me. His lips always surprise me because they’re so much softer than they look. Our tongues meet and lick one another before he takes my bottom lip into his mouth, then he runs his palms over my breasts. We groan into each other’s mouths as my palm wraps around his scorching hot steel.
I push down his briefs just below his ass and guide him to my entrance. Every inch of me is on fire, and I need him to extinguish it.
“In a hurry?” I can feel the smirk of his lips stretching across mine just as the wide tip of his cock settles inside me.
“I need you,” I moan. My clit throbs, my nipples are tight beads, and if he doesn’t get inside me right now, I think I might die.
Is that possible? To die of not being fucked properly? It has to be.
He curls his hands around my shoulders, then pushes me down and thrusts forward at the same time. “Oh, yes!” I shout in relief as all of his thick, delicious inches fill me up.
“Fuck, Doll. So wet, so tight,” he murmurs against the side of my neck. My nails drift down his shoulders, scratching down his back until I’m squeezing the firm globes of his ass. He pulls out, then thrusts inside again, leaving me gasping and that much closer to an orgasm.
He picks up the pace and lifts off me, staring at where we’re connected. “This cunt is mine, Doll.”
“All yours, Jesse. All yours.” I drop my arms behind my head and stretch them out, getting lost in the sensations he’s giving me. No one could ever make me feel as loved, appreciated, and sexy like Reaper does. He never makes me feel unwanted. If anything, sometimes I think his love for me hurts with how he looks at me and touches me. It’s as if he can’t get enough and that’s what every woman in a relationship wants to feel.
“That’s right,” he growls, gripping the headboard behind us. He loves doing that. The more leverage he can get, the deeper and harder he can fill me. “My fucking pussy, my fucking body.” He lays his hand over my heart and rocks his head back. “Mine.”
“Yes,” I moan as my orgasm approaches. “Yes!” A fever rushes in my veins as my belly flips and turns.
“Come for me, Doll. Come all over my cock,” he orders.
I drop my hand between my legs to rub my clit, but he slaps it away, and the slight sting has me whimpering for more.
“You’re going to come because of me and me alone. Understand?”
I nod, stretching my hands on either side of me and grip the sheets. I’m holding myself back. The pressure builds in the lower half of my body, and my breath catches in my ribcage.
“That’s it. I feel that cunt wanting to release. Come on, Doll. Milk me,” he says. Reaper brings his lips to my ear. “I want every drop of my seed inside you.”
Thinking about finally having his baby tips me over the edge. “Jesse! Yes, so good,” I shout, my entire body tensing as waves of sheer ecstasy pump through me at the same rhythm of his cock.
He groans, tossing his head back until the tendons are thick and protruding. His hands fall from the headboard and grab onto my tits with a painful squeeze, but I love it. I always love when he feels so good his pleasure brings pain.
In three rough thrusts of his hips, he plants himself inside me, trying to shove deeper inside me with every jet of cum. I milk him just like he told me to, hoping that one finally takes root. I want nothing more than to have his child.
Just one.
If I can have just one…
“Sarah,” he grunts my name through a held breath and a red face as he pours everything he has into my womb.
Like he does every time.
He collapses on top of me but catches enough of his weight on his forearms, so he doesn’t squish me to death. Reaper’s cock spasms the last of his orgasm and he moans, capturing my mouth in a heated, yet gentle kiss.
His gigantic palm lands on my belly, and I know he’s hoping something happens from this. I’m not holding my breath. It hasn’t happened, and it will probably never happen, but no matter what, he’s going to love me through it.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he says, breaking the kiss. We gasp for air, and the heat of his breath puffs against my chin. The room smells of sex, sweat, and cum.
And a hint of sadness.
“It’s going to happen,” he states with endless determination.
I wrap my arms around his neck and bring his head closer again to kiss the man I love. I don’t want to get lost in despair right now. I want to be lost in Jesse, my heart’s reaper. Our tongues intertwine tenderly, and he runs his fingers softly through my hair, pouring every ounce of love he has into it. I don’t know how long we lay there kissing one another, but he slowly starts moving again.
It isn’t rough.
It isn’t hurried.
It isn’t desperate.
He makes love to me, and I let him.
