45. Lucy #2
I didn’t move. There was nothing in me that wanted to. I ached for him to touch me. Needed him to let go of that restraint. I needed him to ruin me as beautifully as his words did. Something shifted in his face as he realized exactly where my thoughts were.
He leaned in, tilting my head back, thumb brushing my jawline as his lips curved against the slope of my throat. “Is that a no?”
I nearly whimpered, arching into him. I wanted the teeth. Needed the claiming. “It’s not a no. But leave the gentleman outside.”
He lifted his head and smiled, and I felt the full weight of wanting him melt over me. I was done pretending otherwise.
“The gentleman never got on the train, love.”
The words moved through me like a lit match finding tinder. My hands found his chest before I’d decided to reach for him, feeling the solid certainty of him beneath my palms, that last careful restraint giving way entirely as I pulled him closer.
“Every last inch of you wants this,” he said softly.
“And then some.”
Riot’s restraint wavered.
It happened in the shift of his breathing, the way his eyes darkened as they dragged over my face like he was committing every reaction to memory before he destroyed my ability to think at all.
Then his hand was suddenly at my waist, hard enough to make me gasp as he turned us in one sharp movement and pressed my back against the polished wood wall of the car.
The old train creaked around us.
I barely noticed.
His mouth found the line beneath my ear, not kissing, just breathing me in while his hand spread over my ribs beneath the soft knit of my sweater. The heat of his palm built the ache within me.
He murmured against my throat, “Do you have any idea how difficult you’ve made this for me? How hard it is to keep my hands off of you?”
My pulse jumped wildly beneath his lips. “You say that like you’re suffering.”
“I absolutely am.” His hand slid higher.
I gasped when his thumb brushed the underside of my breast, the touch almost unbearably light. Teasing. Testing. My body betrayed me instantly, arching into him before I could stop it.
“That’s the problem,” he said softly, dragging the pad of his thumb over the sensitive peak. “You respond so beautifully.”
Heat surged through me.
Furies, I wanted more.
No. I needed it. Needed everything sharper, harder, enough to drown out every coherent thought. The beast inside me clawed for satisfaction, for marks carved so deeply into my skin, I’d carry the memory of him long after this moment was gone.
But I could feel him holding back. Every muscle in his body was drawn tight with restraint, every touch measured despite the war raging beneath his grip. And somehow, his control only made the hunger inside me burn hotter.
My fingers curled into the front of his coat. “You’re still behaving.”
His head lifted just enough for me to see the dangerous smile that touched his mouth. “Am I?”
Before I could answer, he dragged my hips flush against his.
I melted. The hard line of him pressed against the ache between my thighs with enough pressure to make my head tip back against the wall again, and a broken sound escaped me before I could swallow it down.
Riot’s eyes were half-lidded. You’re fucking perfect.
The carriage suddenly felt too small. Too hot. Moonlight cut across the sharp planes of his face while the rest of him disappeared into shadow, and he looked made for sin standing there between my knees.
I slid my hands beneath his coat, over the heat of his chest, desperate to touch more of him. The muscles beneath my palms tightened instantly.
The want in his eyes was dangerous. “You touch me like you’re already addicted.”
“Maybe I am. Maybe I have been.”
One hand left my waist and caught my jaw instead, thumb pressing into the corner of my mouth.
“Open.”
The command shot straight through me. I obeyed before pride could interfere.
His thumb slid over my tongue slowly enough to make my stomach tighten. Riot watched it happen with a look so focused it bordered on reverent, but there was nothing gentlemanly left in it now. Not as I closed my lips around his finger.
“Lucette.” The word sounded wrecked.
My thighs pressed together around his leg, searching for friction, and a quiet curse left him at the movement. His control looked painful now, hanging by threads so thin I could practically hear them snapping.
You keep doing that, and I’m going to forget why I was trying to be careful with you at all.
A shiver rolled through me. Maybe I want you to forget.
Riot stared at me.
Then he smiled. And that alone ruined me.
He slipped his thumb from my mouth, the pad of it lingering against my lower lip before tracing a slow path down the curve of my throat. My breath caught as his touch drifted between my breasts, lower still, until his fingers curled beneath the hem of my sweater.
Slowly. Giving me every opportunity to stop him.
I didn’t.
The heat of his palm found bare skin at my waist, and the reaction that tore through me was immediate. My breath stuttered. My spine arched. Every nerve came alive as he explored upward inch by inch beneath the sweater.
I was shaking by the time his hand spanned my ribs.
“Last chance to tell me to stop,” he said quietly.
It was the last gentlemanly thing he had left to offer.
I took his face in my hands and kissed him instead.
He kissed me back hard enough to steal the breath from my lungs, one hand tangling into my hair while the other stayed beneath my sweater like he couldn’t bear to lose contact with my skin. The beast in my soul practically clawed against my mind, begging to get to him. To the dragon in his.
The train car groaned softly around us as my back hit the wall again.
I kissed him harder.
Riot answered by dragging his thigh between mine until a helpless sound broke from my throat.
His mouth curved against mine instantly. “That one,” he whispered. “I wanted that sound most.”
His body was a furnace, his cock already hard and heavy against me, straining against his trousers like it was trying to break free.
“Maybe we should see how long you can last,” I breathed, dragging my nails down his chest, relishing the way his muscles tensed under my touch.
A dark chuckle rumbled through him. “No. We shouldn’t.”
His hands tore at my clothes, buttons pinged across the floor, fabric ripped.
My pants slithered down my body, pooling at my feet, leaving me bare except for the flush creeping up my skin.
His gaze burned over me, lingering on the swell of my breasts, the dip of my waist, the slick heat already gathering between my thighs.
“Look at you,” he murmured, sliding his fingers through. “Soaked before I’ve even started with you.”
My body pulsed, aching, my nipples tight and begging for his mouth. But he didn’t give it to me. Instead, he spun me around, pressing my front against the wall, his body a solid weight behind me. One hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back, while the other traced the curve of my ass.
“You want it rough?” His voice was a dark promise.
I moaned, grinding back against him. “I want you to ruin me.”
A growl, low and primal rumbled from the beast and then his fingers were there again, sliding through my slick folds, teasing my clit before plunging two fingers deep inside.
I cried out at the pleasant burn, my knees buckling, but he held me up, fucking me with his hand, his thumb circling my clit in tight, relentless circles.
“Fuck—fuck—” I gasped, my nails splintering the wood as the beast begged me to come for him.
“You sound like my salvation,” he snarled against my ear, his breath hot, his teeth nipping at my lobe. “And you’re mine.”
His teeth pierced the back of my shoulder, the kind of bite that left a mark, the kind that made me clench and freeze, only for a moment.
A beat to satiate a beast that needed to be claimed and another that needed to claim the woman.
Then his fingers were gone, and I whimpered at the loss until his pants hit the floor and I felt the thick head of his cock pressing against me, blunt and demanding.
“No more waiting,” he growled. “You’re mine now, Lucette Varrow.”
And then he filled me, stretching me open in one brutal thrust. My body clamped around him like a vice.
He didn’t give me time to adjust, just set a punishing pace, slamming into me, his hands leaving marks on my skin, grip tightening on my hips.
Every snap of his hips sent sparks through my nerves, my cunt gripping him tighter, desperate for more.
This was the grounding claim I needed and he knew it.
“Say it,” he demanded, his hand tightening in my hair.
“I’m yours,” I gasped. “Yours.”
His growl was pure possession. Purely the dragon. He fucked me harder, deeper, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside me with every thrust. Pleasure coiled tight in my belly, threatening to snap, and when his fingers found my clit again, rubbing rough circles, I shattered.
My orgasm ripped through me. I convulsed around his cock as he groaned into my neck. He wasn’t far behind and with a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and came, his release flooding me.
For a while neither of us spoke. The train ticked and settled around us, the cold creeping back in now that the heat between us had nowhere left to go.
He moved slowly, turning me to face him.
He pulled the discarded coat up over my shoulders against the chill.
His hand stayed spread between my shoulder blades, his forehead dropping to rest against mine while our breathing evened out.
Outside, the wind moved through the dead arena.
Inside, there was only the two of us and the slow return of everything we’d managed to forget for a little while.
Then his lips brushed my shoulder, almost tender. “Remember when the world turns cruel again, you were worshiped here.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck. “You had no right making me love the sound of goodbye in your voice when I hate the word so thoroughly.”