Page 44 of Sinners Reunion

“Is it loaded?”

Chapter Thirteen

Josie

King grips my hip and gives it a squeeze. “When I put it inside you, it will be. I’ll disengage the safety as well. And if you continue to be a little brat, I’ll prove it to you.”

I smile against the cold rock beneath my face. He’s not lying, and that makes this even more terrifying, which only amps up the desire between my thighs. When he puts that weapon inside me, one slip of the finger could be the end.

Skin touches my pussy, and I jerk away from the warmth. King’s hand lands on my hip again.

“I’m merely ensuring you’re wet enough,” he whispers, “but I’m using my hand.”

I relax against the boulder again. I realize full well that it makes no sense to focus so heavily on consent when I’m practically creaming at the thought of shoving a loaded shotgun inside me, but the joy of accepting one’s own insanity is that it doesn’t need to make sense to anyone else. King taught me that, and embracing his philosophy is why I never landed myself in another psych ward.

Two thick and very experienced fingers ease inside me, and my eyes cross. I do my best unintentional ahegao face and enjoy every moment of the warmup before the big game. He works my pussy, slowly at first, before scissoring his fingers inside me.

I roll my head and glance up at the tree. The dirty little child killer grips the limb with all his might, and both eyes are wide open now. Is he . . . is he pulling a set of spectacles from his breast pocket? Does someone want a closer look?

Biting my lip, I turn my head so the man can’t see my smile. “He’s watching us. Better make it a good one.”

“It’s always a good one with me.” He rubs my pleasure over my clit to prove his point, and my toes curl into the dirt. “See? Such a good girl when you aren’t being difficult.”

The praise goes straight to my pussy.

“Fuck, I’m ready.” I press my breasts into the boulder and arch my back. I say the next part as loudly as I can without coming off too hammy. I want the guy in the tree to hear me, but I don’t want him to know that. “I want you to fill me up. Can you fill me up and make me feel so good?”

Okay. Maybe just a touch hammy.

King catches on immediately, raising his voice a bit as he says, “Spread those legs and let me see how wet you are.”

I part my thighs, and King lets out a low whistle.

“Damn. You are dripping, love.”

The low growl to his voice, and the way he says love like a prayer . . . like a question he’s asking . . .

“Yes,” I moan. “Please, I’m so ready. Fucking fill me.”

He pumps the shotgun, ejecting the spent shell and pushing the loaded cartridge into the chamber. The cold barrel presses against my pussy, and I flinch.

I wouldn’t say it glides in smoothly. In fact, it’s downright uncomfortable, if I’m being honest, but I need an orgasm like I need my next breath. I always think more clearly after I’ve cleared the lust haze. Granted, clearing the fog with my ex isn’t my finest show of intelligence, but he’s so good at it. I just have to trust that he’ll somehow make this enjoyable.

“Touch yourself, love,” he says, and I realize he isn’t using his pet name for me.

Because there are things more private than naked bodies and intimate moments. There are secrets between lovers that won’t be shared like this.

Unwanted feelings spring to life in my chest as I drive my hand between my legs. Yeah. I need to get off, and fast.

I press my forehead to the rock and batter my clit with my fingers. He stays behind me, working the barrel until it actually starts to feel good. But unfortunately, I’m catching a cramp in my forearm, and I can’t keep up this pace. The crackhead-DJ-record-scratch move usually works every time, but of course it fails me now.

“Be good and come for me,” he says behind me.

I want to. I really do. But something is holding me back.

King senses that something isn’t right. He removes the gun and rests it against the boulder as he replaces the empty feeling with his fingers. Leaning against my body, he kisses the back of my neck.

“Is the gun too uncomfortable?” he whispers.