Page 63 of Grim’s Angel

My orgasm breaks.

I cry his name as my pussy clamps around his cock. He keeps thrusting through every pulse, holding me against the wall while pleasure tears through me.

Heat fills me as his cock jerks. His mouth opens against mine, my name leaving him with every hard pulse.

He remains inside me until our breathing settles.

“The wall was better than the desk,” I whisper.

His forehead rests against mine. “I’m keeping both.”

“That seems reasonable.”

He withdraws carefully and lowers my leg. When my knees weaken, his arm tightens around my waist.

“I have you.”

“I know.”

Grim cleans me and helps me dress while I remain against the wall. When he finishes, he lifts his cut from the floor and settles it across my shoulders.

The leather surrounds me with his scent.

“If you walk out wearing that, the club will know you’re mine.”

I slide my arms through it. “I think they already know.”

He kisses me again.

Epilogue

McKenna

Two years later

The woman on my examination table apologizes for bleeding on the paper.

Again.

At the fifth apology, I put down the gauze.

“You have a split lip, two bruised ribs, and a wrist I intend to X-ray. The paper remains the least injured patient in this room.”

Her mouth trembles.

“I made a mess.”

“This is a medical clinic. Mess is included in the operating budget.”

A tiny sound escapes her. It takes me a moment to recognize it as a laugh.

I finish cleaning the cut and cover it with a bandage.

“You don’t have to apologize here,” I tell her.

Her gaze drops to her hands.

Women arrive at the shelter frightened, exhausted, and convinced their pain is an inconvenience. I recognize the habit because I spent most of my life perfecting it.