Page 45 of Sinners Reunion

I shake my head. “It didn’t feel great at first, but the threat of death is a nice clit tickler, and it actually felt kind of good once I found the right rhythm.”

“Give him a moan.” He nips my neck.

“Oh, fuck yes,” I cry. “Ooh, touch my pussy like that!”

“Damn, you are good.” He nips my skin again, and my back arches and pushes my ass against his cock. God, I want that inside me.

He leans closer to my ear. “If you make a mess on this shotgun, I promise to find and make an example of whichever feckless bastard fucked over Ice Pick. It wasn’t me, and I swear to take you straight to Chef Maurice so that he can give you the entire truth the moment we’re back at camp.”

Is that what’s blocking my ability to get off?

If so, maybe I had it wrong all along. Maybe he didn’t fuck Charity.

I look over my shoulder, straight into his slate-blue eyes. The honesty I see there makes me second-guess everything I am.

Or is that my desperation for an orgasm talking?

Only one way to find out.

I bat my lashes and push my ass against him. “Make me come, King.”

He bites down on my neck before stepping back and admiring me again.

“Don’t tease me!” I squeal. “Get over here and make me come!”

I watch over my shoulder as he smirks and goes for the gun. Feelings spring to life again, and I’ve never wanted anything more than that living statue in a high-vis vest. How did I ever believe I could do this without falling for his accent and his muscles and his charm?

Shut up and get off! my pussy screams.

And she’s right. My cavewoman brain takes control—less think, more sex.

I brace as the cold metal brushes my slit, but instead of putting it inside me, he slides it beneath me at an angle so that I can grind on it.

“Is this more comfortable?” he asks.

I nod and rock my hips. Icy steel soothes the searing heat between my thighs. I feel every inch of his velvet rebar rubbing against my ass each time I rock backward. I’m losing the battle, and I’m about to ask him to give me what I really need right now. Penetration. But not just that.

I need him.

Even after all this time, he knows my body well. He senses exactly what I need, but I haven’t consented. I haven’t asked. How can I now? I’m supposed to be angry, right?

Oh, fuck it.

“King, I want you to⁠—”

Thwack. Thump, thwack, thwack.

Thump!

I had completely forgotten about the guy in the tree. He’s very much at the forefront of my mind now, though, as he lies in a crumpled mess at the base of the wobbling pine. King backs away from me and starts putting on his pants as the man grunts and groans.

“Do you think he’s nearly dead?” I ask King.

He tosses my clothes to me. “We’ll find out once you’re dressed. He doesn’t get more of a show than he’s already had. I bloody forgot he was there, if I’m being honest.”

“Same,” I say, though I never would have admitted it if he hadn’t first. “Hey, leave off the shirt. I kind of like the vest-over-bare-chest look.”

He studies the vest, then shakes his head. “We’ll pop it into the closet for next time.”