But slow didn’t cut it. “More. Now.”
He laughed, the sound cut off as he slammed home in one slick rush. “Like that?”
It was my turn not to breathe as all my mental capacity was given over to the way he felt inside me. Thick. Hard. Stretching me and pressing against nerves along my inner walls that yearned to be stroked again like he had last night. Like I hadn’t been taken before. Ever.
“That good, huh?” He pulled back, a quick snatch of his hips and shoved in again. I was so slick and wet the movement became a heady rush of sensation. “Fuck me, you feel good.”
“Good.” I managed a one-word reply, expanding into another. “More.”
He gave me more. His hand tightening in my hair, he kept me hard against the door and powered into me. His hips slammed into mine, his cock working like a piston in my needy pussy. The slap of skin on skin and the sound of our moans filled the air as he fucked me. Like he couldn’t get enough of me. I couldn’t get enough of him.
It didn’t take long, not with us going at it like rabbits. Pleasure built, growing within me, and before long it hit fever pitch. I pushed back, grinding against him and seeking more sensation, more pleasure, more everything.
I wasn’t the only one struggling. Troy’s pants became harder, his moans rougher, his strokes shorter and harder. Tension wound into a tight coil, expectation catching my breath as I climbed higher. Then it broke, shattering deep to send ecstasy surging out from my core in an ever-increasing spiral through my veins.
I cried out something—Troy’s name, I don’t know—just something as my pussy clamped down around his cock, milking him as each wave hit in an endless cycle of pleasure. Behind me he swore, the rough words almost unintelligible. His strokes faltered as the rhythm broke down. He slammed into me a few more times, rough. Delicious.
“Fuck!” Then he drove in once more, hard, and came.
Chapter 6
The next day Laney was still in town, a situation Troy was not going to argue with. Reilly had given the okay for her to buddy up with him and John on their cases. Given how invaluable her instincts had already proven to be, having her around eased his nerves.
So much so that he didn’t argue when she slipped away again last night. She had her job and he had his. He’d woken just as she was strapping her belt around her waist. For some reason, he could see the blades in their sheaths now. When he’d mentioned it, she’d said they liked him. He was still trying to work out how he felt about a set of mini scythes liking him. Especially ones that belong to the Grim Reaper’s granddaughter.
Pulling up outside the station, he parked next to Reilly’s SUV. He couldn’t see Laney’s bike, even though her text said she was there. A frown creased his brow as he climbed out of the car.
Reports had been up this last week, way up. It almost felt like word had gotten out that a Reaper was in town, and everything that went bump in the night had come out to take a looksee. Apart from the damn demon they were tracking, of course. That had disappeared without a trace—something that scared the shit out of everyone who’d viewed that scene.
Troy took the steps two at a time, but before he was inside the door, the gruff voice of Sergeant Andrews greeted him. “Regan. Those girls’ names you were after, for the Kaufman case? On your desk. And an autopsy came in with your name on it? From a Detective Crawford?”
“Cool, thanks, man.” Troy offered a genuine smile as he passed. Cory Andrews was one scary-looking son of a bitch. At least six and a half feet, he towered over the rest of the department, and he had a set of shoulders that would make a barn jealous.
“Welcome.” Andrews just nodded. He rarely cracked a smile. If Troy didn’t know he was as human as John and he were (The captain was a different matter. That dude was way too cool under fire for Troy to be comfortable classifying him as purely human.) he’d have suspected Andrews of being one of the bigger paras. Maybe a troll or something. Those suckers were built like mountains.
He stopped mid-stride, turning toward Troy. “Captain wants to see you. His office. Laney’s already in there.”
He paused between one step and the next to look at the sergeant’s retreating back in surprise—all the shirt-covered acres of it. Since when had his girlfriend become Laney to the normally reticent sergeant?
With no time to think on whether Andrews was sweet on his girl or what he’d feel about it if he was, Troy detoured to Reilly’s office.
The blinds were open so he could clearly see Laney, her hands moving animatedly as she talked. Today she wore a denim skirt with her heavy boots, her jacket slung carelessly over the back of a nearby chair. His attention was distracted by the skin on display before he got himself under control.
She waved what looked like a photo at Reilly. The captain shook his head, but the hard edge usually on his face was absent. He looked almost...entranced. Like Andrews.
Fucking hell. Was every guy in the damn place sweet on her? Troy’s mood went from pleasant to black in a heartbeat.
“No. This isn’t one of mine.” As he pushed the door open, Laney threw the photo on the desk in front of Reilly. It landed right side up to show an image of a woman lying on a kitchen floor. Stacked and curvy with masses of ice-blonde hair, she’d have been stunning if she wasn’t dead with a hole where her heart should have been.
“I remember this one. Home invasion, Tuesday night?” Picking it up, Troy looked from Reilly to Laney curiously. “I thought the lab came back with some kind of werewolf hair strands at the scene?”
He sighed, dropping the photo on the desk. “Yet another para-on-human crime. No offense,” he added, offering Laney a smile.
“None taken,” she answered automatically, already shaking her head. “No, not para on human. This was para on para.”
He had to smile a little at that. A week and she even sounded like a cop. His smile faded as her words sunk in. “What do you mean? As I recall, the victim has lived here for years.”
“Yeah? And? You think you haven’t got paranormals living amongst you? Or perhaps you think they all live over in Weirdshitsville and just visit?” She reached around him to pick up the photo and held it in front of him. “She’s not human. Look, see the feline set of the eyes and the high cheekbones? The color of the hair?”
As he looked at the photo, it became more apparent. The woman’s face, although purely human at first glance, seemed more ethereal the more he looked. How had they missed it?
“She was a banshee.” Laney answered the unspoken question. “They all look like that. Once you’ve seen one or two, you can spot them easily.”
She turned to Reilly, a frown on her brow. “Wolf hair was found at the scene?”
Reilly nodded, rifling through the contents of the file until he found the lab report. “Yes. Although it’s a type we’ve not seen before. Lab didn’t know what to make of it at first but then theorized it’s a type of werewolf we haven’t encountered yet.”
“No, this is something else. I didn’t get a call to reap her soul.” Laney ran her hand through her hair, the movement jerky. “Shit.”
Reilly looked as puzzled as Troy felt, but the captain spoke. “I thought your... you knew about all deaths?”