16. Riggs
Riggs
H oly. Fucking. God.
She's so wet I slip right in, her body gripping my finger like it was made for me. Her head falls back, exposing the long line of her throat where my marks are already starting to bloom. I curl my finger inside her, finding that spot that makes her thighs shake.
“That's it, baby,” I growl, adding a second, stretching her. “Ride my hand. Show me how much you want it.”
The knife in her hand gleams in the dim light, the blade catching the glow from the TV. I don't know if she realizes she's still holding it, but I'm acutely aware of every movement she makes, every twitch of her fingers around the handle.
“Fuck, Riggs,” she moans, her hips working in tight circles now, fucking herself on my digits. Her wetness is coating my palm, making obscene sounds with every thrust.
“You like that?” I tease, pressing my thumb against her clit as I curl my fingers inside her. “Like fucking yourself on my hand while you hold a knife to my chest? Such a little fucking psycho.”
Her eyes snap open, and the look in them is feral and it’s absolutely fucking beautiful.
“You're so fucking tight,” I tell her, my voice rough with need. “Can't wait to feel you around my dick.”
“You think I'm gonna let you fuck me?” she asks, but her cunt is gripping my fingers like she never wants to let go. “Think you've earned that?”
“I think you're gonna beg for it,” I say. “Think you're gonna say please, Riggs, please fuck me, I need it so bad.”
Her eyes flash, dangerous and wild. “I don't beg.”
I lean forward, ignoring the knife, until my lips brush her ear. “You will. For me.”
Before I can register what's happening, Maren pushes off me, my fingers slipping out of her with an obscene wet sound. She stands abruptly, swaying slightly before finding her balance.
“The fuck?” I growl, my hand still wet with her arousal, my cock painfully hard against my joggers.
She doesn't answer. Just hooks her thumbs under the waistband of her bottoms and drags them down her legs in one smooth motion. The fabric catches briefly on her ankle before she kicks it free, sending the sweats flying to one side and her panties directly at my face.
I snatch them out of the air, my reflexes kicking in even when my brain is fucking short-circuiting. The cotton is drenched, soaked through with her arousal. I bring them to my face without thinking, inhaling deeply.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I groan, the scent of her filling my lungs. I can't help myself as I run my tongue along the wet fabric, tasting her, savoring the tangy sweetness that is pure Maren.
Her scent is still on my tongue when I see her standing there, watching me like a predator sizing up prey.
My dick throbs, so fucking hard I think I might bust right here, make a goddamn mess of myself like some virgin teenager.
I reach down to adjust, to give myself some relief from the painful strain against the fabric.
“Tsk.” The sound cuts through the room. “Don't fucking touch it.”
I freeze, hand hovering over my cock. “The fuck am I supposed to do with this situation, then?” I gesture at the obvious bulge in my pants.
“Get the fuck up,” she commands, voice low and dangerous, the knife still clutched in her hand.
I stand unsteady, my legs feeling like they might give out. My brain's trying to catch up, figure out where she's going with this, what game we're playing now. With Maren, it's always a game and I'm always one move behind.
Then she reaches for the hem of her oversized t-shirt, the only thing she's still wearing, and pulls it up and over her head in one fluid motion. The knife clatters to the floor, forgotten.
Holy shit.
She's naked. Completely fucking naked. Standing there like a dark goddess descended from a place where beauty and danger are the same thing.
“Fuck me,” I whisper, not a request but a prayer.
She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Pale skin practically glowing in the dim light, making my mouth water. My fingerprints are stamped on her hips, angry red marks that'll bruise by morning. Her neck is raw from my beard, red patches that'll be a reminder tomorrow of what we did tonight.
But it's the scars that catch my eye—thin, silvery lines randomly scattered across her ribs, just underneath her perfect, perky breasts.
Some look old, faded with time. Others seem newer, still pink and raised.
I want to trace them with my tongue, learn the story of each one, memorize the map of her pain like it's sacred text.
“See something you like?” she asks, voice dripping with false sweetness.
“Everything,” I admit, my eyes tracking down her body. “Every fucking inch of you.”
Her lips curve into a predatory smile. “Well, you said to make you shut up, so let's do that.”
My cock jumps eagerly. “Oh yeah? And how do you think you're gonna get me to be quiet?” I challenge, but my voice is already rough, betraying how fucking desperate I am for whatever she's about to offer.
Maren moves back to the couch, every step a goddamn masterpiece of female perfection. The way her hips sway, the bounce of her tits, the long line of her spine—it's fucking art, and I'm a starving man at a feast.
She sits down, lounging back like she's on a throne instead of a second-hand couch. Her legs fall slightly open, giving me just a glimpse of pink that has my mouth watering. She crooks her finger at me, beckoning.
“Be a good boy, Number Thirteen,” she purrs, using my hockey number like it's some kind of leash she can yank. “And maybe if you're lucky, I'll let you drown in me.”
Jesus fucking Christ. I try to play it cool, but we both know I'm already defeated.
“Awfully confident for someone who was ready to come all over my hand two minutes ago,” I shoot back, but I'm already moving toward her, already dropping to my knees like the pathetic, Maren-whipped bastard I am.
I shuffle forward until my stomach presses against the edge of the couch, positioning myself between her legs. My hands slide up her thighs, feeling the smooth skin, the taut muscle underneath. I push them apart, opening her up to me.
“Fuck,” I breathe out, staring at her glistening cunt. She's so wet, her folds shiny and swollen, begging for attention. “Look at you, so fucking pretty and pink.”
I lean in, inhaling deeply, filling my lungs straight from the source.
“You just gonna stare at it all night?” She taunts, threading her red-tipped fingers through my hair, nails scraping my scalp. “I thought the point was to shut you up. Less talking, more using that mouth for what it's good for.”
“Shut up,” I growl, but there's no heat in it. I'm too focused on the feast in front of me.
I start with a long, slow lick from her entrance to her clit, gathering her on my tongue. Teases so fucking good I groan against her. Her thighs twitch on either side of my head, and I feel a surge of satisfaction.
“Good boy,” she sighs, her grip on my hair tightening. “Put that smart mouth to better use.”
I smirk against her cunt, but do as I'm told.
Her taste is addictive—like some fucked-up cocktail of salt and honey that hits my system harder than any drug I've ever tried.
I flatten my tongue, dragging it through her folds, gathering her wetness.
My hands grip her thighs, pushing them wider, exposing more of her pink flesh to my hungry mouth.
“Fuck, you taste good,” I mumble against her, unable to keep quiet even when my mouth is full of her.
I circle her entrance with my tongue, teasing her, before plunging inside. Her walls clench around my tongue, and I can feel how fucking ready she is, how much she wants this despite all her tough talk.
“Harder,” she demands, her hips lifting off the couch to meet my mouth. “Use your teeth.”
I pull back slightly, looking up at her through my lashes. Her chest is heaving, her nipples hard little peaks that I'm dying to get my mouth on. But her cunt is calling to me, glistening and swollen, and I can't resist diving back in.
I graze my teeth over her clit, just the lightest scrape, and she fucking shudders.
“Yes,” she moans, her head falling back. “Like that. Don't you dare fucking stop.”
I alternate between soft licks and gentle bites, learning what makes her squirm, what makes her grip my hair tighter. When I suck her clit between my lips, applying just the right pressure, her thighs begin to tremble.
“Fuck, Riggs, yes,” she pants, grinding against my face. “Right there. Don't you fucking move.”
I stay exactly where I am, sucking her while I slide two fingers inside her dripping pussy. She's so fucking wet, taking me easily, her walls gripping me. I curl my fingers, finding that spongy spot inside her that makes her whole body jerk.
“Jesus fucking—” she cuts herself off with a moan that's so loud I'm pretty sure my neighbors can hear. I don't give a shit. Let them hear. Let the whole fucking building know that I'm the one making Maren Marino fall apart.
“You like that?” I ask against her slick flesh, my fingers still working inside her. “Like when I finger-fuck you while I suck on this pretty pussy?”
“Shut up and keep going,” she gasps, her nails digging into my scalp. “Add another finger. Stretch me.”
I obey without hesitation, sliding a third finger in alongside the others. She's so tight around me, her pussy squeezing my fingers like she never wants to let go. I pump them in and out, as I imagine how good she’d feel around my cock, how she’d grip me and milk me dry.
“You like being stuffed full, don't you?” I murmur against her, my breath hot on her sensitive flesh.
“Fuck yes,” she hisses, rolling her hips to meet my thrusts. “Deeper, goddamnit.”
“Christ, you're greedy,” I growl, watching her take my fingers. “Fucking insatiable.”
She laughs, the sound breaking into a moan.
I graze my teeth over her sensitive bud, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp. Her thighs clamp around my head like a vise, her body trembling.
“Fuck, Riggs, just like that.”