“More,” I demanded, digging nails into his shoulders. “Harder.”
Feral satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. He adjusted his stance and began a rougher rhythm while maintaining absolute control. His hands supported my weight effortlessly, lifting and lowering me onto his cock.
“Just like that,” I moaned as he drove upward. “Don’t stop.”
Water cascaded over us as he fucked me with relentless intensity, never letting me take my own weight. His complete control unlocked a wildness I didn’t know I possessed.
“There you are,” he murmured with satisfaction. “Let go for me.”
The commandunlocked something primal. I abandoned all restraint, becoming wild and demanding. My hips moved frantically, grinding to meet each thrust.
“I can feel you getting close,” he said, voice strained as his rhythm became urgent. “Come with me this time. I need to feel you come around my cock.”
His words cracked with genuine need—not just physical release but emotional connection. For a man taught that bodies were targets, experiencing mutual pleasure must have been revolutionary.
The rawness in his voice pushed me over the edge. I was falling, inner muscles clenching rhythmically around him as pleasure crashed through in violent waves.
“You’re mine,” he growled, movements frantic as he approached climax. “Say it.”
“Yours,” I gasped through waves of pleasure. “And you’re mine.”
My claim hit him like a shock. His eyes found mine with startled intensity. For one moment, I saw everything—the man beneath conditioning, the soul they couldn’t erase.
“Yours,” he echoed, voice breaking. “Completely yours.”
My claim triggered something final in him—his rhythm faltered, his powerful body shuddering. I felt the moment he lost control—his cock swelled thicker before pulsing inside me, hot spurts filling me as he groaned against my neck. Each throb prolonged my own pleasure, my muscles squeezing around him.
Throughout our release, his arms kept me completely secure, muscles straining with the dual effort of pleasure andprotection. Water washed over our joined bodies as we pulsed together, breathing synchronized.
When the final tremors subsided, he raised his head to meet my gaze. For a moment, we simply stared, something passing between us transcending physical intensity. I saw surprise in his eyes—not at the pleasure, but the depth of feeling. For a man trained to read every physical tell, he seemed stunned by what he saw in my face—complete acceptance, not just of pleasure, but of him, all of him.
And in that unguarded moment, I allowed him to see my complete acceptance of our connection, despite all risks. I didn’t hide anymore—not my fears, desires, or the terrifying depth of what I felt. For the first time since Xavier disappeared, I surrendered completely to someone else.
Reaper’s expression shifted, control giving way to wonder. His hand cradled my face, thumb tracing my cheekbone with gentleness contradicting everything he was made to be. When he spoke, his voice held none of the calculated cold I expected.
“Maeve,” he said, just my name, but filled with everything he didn’t have words for. In that word, I heard his promise—that he’d help find Xavier, shield me from Brock, fight Oblivion until his last breath.
Reaper took my lips in a soul-searing kiss, both gentle and possessive as he effortlessly shut off the shower and carried me to bed. Water trailed down our bodies, soaking sheets, but neither cared. His strength made me feel weightless, yet anchored in ways I never thought possible.
The mattress dipped as he lay me down, following to lie beside me rather than on top of me, conscious of my recovering strength. His fingers traced patterns across my skin, cataloguing each bruise and mark carefully.
“Ninety minutes,” I reminded him, though I made no move to get up. “We should start on those hard drives.”
“Ten more minutes,” he countered, pressing his lips to my temple. “Your body needs this pause. Heart rate still elevated, micro-tremors in your extremities. Let your system stabilize.”
I smiled against his chest. Even in this, he couldn’t help analyzing and assessing. But now those skills served to protect rather than destroy.
“How long have you been able to defy your conditioning?” I asked softly, fingers tracing the faint outline of his erased tattoo.
His body tensed slightly, but he didn’t pull away. “I don’t know. It’s been…building. Small moments of resistance. Questions I shouldn’t have had.” His hand found mine, threading our fingers together. “But with you, it’s different. Stronger. Like you’re a key unlocking parts they buried.”
I stayed quiet for a long moment, letting the thoughts settle in my mind. What he had gone through… it wasn’t easy. I had seen it at the very beginning—the pain, the struggle, the way it tore him apart piece by piece. But he made it through. He found a way to fight back. That meant it wasn’t impossible.
And if it wasn’t impossible for him… then maybe it wasn’t impossible for Xavier, even if it seemed against all odds. Aside from Reaper, he was one of the strongest people I had ever known.
My thoughts wandered to him. Was he already fighting the programming in his own way? Quietly pushing back against the commands? Questioning things beneath the surface, where no one could see?
A part of me hoped so, even if it seemed unlikely.
