Chapter 18 #3
I can’t help myself. I reach for his hand. Our fingers tangle slowly, hesitantly. He brings mine to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the inside of my wrist that sends shivers through me.
“And if I said I’m scared?” I whisper. “That I’m still trying to figure out if this is real—if any of it is real?”
He tugs me closer, so I’m standing between his legs now. His hands grip my hips, grounding me.
“Then I’ll prove it’s real,” Riot murmurs, eyes blazing up at me. “One day at a time. Starting now. I want you, Sawyer. Not because he wants you. Honestly, I’d be happier if he didn’t, and I had you all to myself, but I’ll take you anyway I can get you.”
His hands slip beneath my shirt, rough palms against my waist—unhurried, but possessive. He waits. Watching my face to make sure it’s okay.
When I say nothing, he leans in to kiss me. It’s deep and slow. His tongue slides against mine lazily, his other hand presses into my lower back to keep me anchored. My hands fist in his hair, yanking him closer without even thinking.
When he pulls back, his lips just barely grazing mine, he adds, “You can stop me whenever you want. But if you don’t…I’m not just staying the night. I’m claiming it—and you.”
I stare at him, pulse hammering, chest rising and falling like I just ran miles. My voice doesn’t shake when I say, “Then claim me.”
His eyes darken, but he doesn’t wait. He grabs me by the hips and pulls me straight into his lap in one smooth, commanding motion, like he’s been waiting forever for this moment.
The way he looks at me makes my breath stutter—like I’m the only thing in his universe right now.
His hands slide to my thighs, warm and steady as they guide me to straddle him fully.
And then he kisses me. It’s slow and sinful.
His mouth molds to mine with aching precision; every sweep of his tongue against mine is a dark promise that sinks under my skin and leaves me breathless.
There’s no rush, no frenzy—just Riot pouring everything into each kiss, making me feel like I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” he mutters against my lips. “Sitting here—on my lap, half-naked in another man’s shirt, but wet for me. Do you have any idea how fucking insane that makes me?”
I want him so badly. There isn’t any other thought in my head other than Riot. “Why don’t you show me?”
He moves beneath me, hips rolling up in a slow grind as he drags my body over his, making my breath catch.
I can feel him—hard and thick, straining against his sweatpants, the heat of him searing straight through the thin fabric of my underwear.
The friction is everything: torturous, delicious, a steady drag that has me gasping into his mouth.
His hands are everywhere at once—palming my ass, gripping my hips, sliding up under Jasper’s shirt like he can’t stand that I’m wearing it, like he wants to tear it off and claim every inch of skin as his own.
His palms slide higher, cupping my breasts through the thin cotton, thumbs grazing over my nipples until I arch into him, desperate for more.
But just as the pace builds, Riot stills—holding me in place. One hand slips up, curling around my throat—gentle, commanding, a silent claim that shoots straight between my legs. He rests his forehead against mine, breath mingling with mine in the dark.
“Are you sure?” he whispers, voice raw, eyes searching mine. “Because all you have to do is say stop, and I’ll walk out that door. I mean it, Hellcat.”
I swallow hard, heat coiling deep in my belly. “I’m tired of stopping. I want you, Riot.” I whisper, voice shaking with need.
I grab the hem of Jasper’s shirt and pull it over my head in one quick motion, leaving me in nothing but a pair of black lace panties that hug my hips.
His hands slide up my bare waist, lustful and greedy all at once. His eyes blaze as they roam over me, his thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts like he’s committing the curve to memory.
Riot’s jaw flexes hard, his eyes going wide, black with hunger. “Fuck, Sawyer,” he breathes, awe bleeding through every word. “You’re unreal. Fucking perfect.”
His mouth never leaves mine for more than a heartbeat, each kiss rough and claiming, dragging the air from my lungs.
Even when his hand slips lower, sliding between my thighs, his lips still brush against mine.
Fingers press into the soaked lace of my panties, slow, deliberate circles working over my clit—just enough to make me gasp, to make my hips jerk and grind against his palm like I’m starving for more.
He groans against my lips. “You feel that, baby? How fucking wet you are for me?”
“Yes, Riot,” I whimper, too far gone to pretend I’m not already unraveling. But he doesn’t speed up. Doesn’t give me what I want. He just keeps teasing, circling my clit through the fabric, keeping me on the edge like it’s his damn job.
His fingers keep teasing, never quite enough, the pad of his thumb dragging over the soaked fabric, driving me insane. I buck against him, needy, but he chuckles—a wicked sound that tells me he’s in no hurry.
“You think I’m gonna give you more just like that?” he whispers against my neck, lips brushing my neck, teeth scraping skin enough to make me shiver. “Nah. You’re gonna beg, baby. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me how badly you want it. Tell me what you need.”
“Please,” I breathe, rocking my hips, thighs trembling.
He tuts, grinning. “Not good enough. Look at me.”
I lift my eyes to his, and fuck—he looks wild, jaw tight, holding back but so fucking in control. Like he’s savoring every second of this. Of me.
“Beg me,” he says, slowing his fingers to a maddening crawl. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you, Sawyer.”
I squirm, frustrated. “Riot, please. I want your mouth—I want your fingers—anything. Everything. I need you.”
He groans, the sound filthy and raw, and suddenly he’s lifting me like I weigh nothing, and dropping me on the edge of the bed. He kneels in front of me like a goddamn sinner worshiping at the altar of his favorite sin.
He hooks his fingers in the sides of my underwear and drags them down slowly, like unwrapping the most dangerous gift he’s ever touched. His eyes stay locked on mine until the fabric slips past my knees, then he finally drops his gaze between my legs.
“Fuck, Sawyer,” he rasps, voice tight with need. “You’re gorgeous. Fucking perfect. I could die between your thighs and it’d be a good death.”
His hands slide up my thighs, spreading them wide, thumbs pressing into the soft skin as he drinks me in like he’s starving. “Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs. “God, I want to fucking worship you.”
I shiver, pulse pounding. “Then hurry up.”
But he just looks up, eyes glittering like he’s about to ruin me. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m going to worship you, baby. I’ve been dying to lick this cunt ever since last night in the haunted house. You won’t be able to think about anything but my mouth.”
He leans in, breath hot on my skin, lips hovering so close I can barely stand it.
“I’m fixing to burn myself into all the places you try to hide,” he murmurs, tongue flicking out to taste and tease everywhere except where I want him most.
My whole body trembles under his touch, thighs open for him, heart racing like it’s trying to punch through my chest. Riot looks up at me and gives me a look, but there’s something else behind it now—like he’s about to touch holiness and knows he’ll never be the same.
Then finally, his mouth meets me… and we both fucking moan.
Holy fuck.
It’s not a tease anymore. It’s not slow. It’s fucking starving. He licks a long swipe up my pussy, tongue flattening, tasting every inch. Then his lips wrap around my clit, sucking hard, and my whole body jolts.
My head tips back, hands gripping the sheets, holding on for dear life as my hips jerk forward on instinct. “Oh, my God—Riot—”
He groans against me, tongue moving harder, faster, his hands keeping me open, holding me right where he wants me. I look down and see him—hat gone, blonde hair wild, eyes dark and locked on mine like he’s begging me to watch him worship.
And fuck, I do.
He licks deeper, tongue flattening then curling as he drags it up, slow and sinful.
He flicks the tip over my clit again, and again, until I’m shaking and sobbing from the intensity.
His fingers dig into my thighs, holding me wide open as he eats me like he’s trying to memorize me from the inside out.
“Jesus Christ,” I gasp, “don’t stop—don’t fucking stop—” I sob, nails digging into his scalp, riding every wicked, perfect move of his mouth. He groans, the vibration shooting through my core, making me see stars.
“God, you taste so fucking good,” he rasps between licks. “I want you cumming on my tongue, Sawyer. I want you fucking screaming for me.”
I glance down again to watch him.
His blonde hair is damp with sweat, and his tattooed hands are gripping my thighs like he’ll never let go. His eyes flick up to me, and he smirks against me, licking one more time…
And fuck, I shatter. Legs shaking and clamping around his head as my orgasm slams through me, hot and blinding. He doesn’t stop. He keeps licking, sucking, driving me higher until I’m writhing, begging. “Riot, please—too much—fuck!”
Only when I shove at his shoulders, weak and shaking, does he finally stop.
His mouth is glistening, lips swollen, and he has a smug look in his eyes.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, still kneeling, staring up at me like he’s ready to worship all night.
“Told you I was gonna burn myself into you, baby.”
I stare at him, heart still hammering, chest heaving. “I—I can’t feel my legs.”
He laughs, then lightly smacks my pussy twice, making me bite my lip to keep from yelling. “That’s the point, Hellcat.”