âHere. Cover yourself itâs getting coldâ
Her eyes flicked down.
It was his jacket.
The same jacket heâd worn when he killed a man.
She could still see the faint smear of blood on the inside seam.
She didnât move.
Couldnât.
Her body was still wrecked..ravaged by the orgasm heâd torn out of her with nothing but fingers and cruelty. Her n*****s were hard and glistening. Her thighs were soaked. Her cunt pulsed with a heartbeat of its own, fluttering from emptiness and overstimulation.
And now he wanted her to wear him?
He didnât even look at her. He didnât have to.
He drove.
Silent. Casual. One hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on the gun between them, like it belonged there more than she did.
Her hands twitched. Hesitated. Then finally, obediently, she pulled the jacket
