14. ~Riot~
~Riot~
The first inch of me breaches her and the world narrows to a single, devastating point of contact.
Tight. Fucking heavens, impossibly tight.
Vex’s heat clenches around the head of my cock like a fist wrapped in warm silk, rippling with greedy little pulses that drag a guttural curse from my throat before I can swallow it.
I freeze there, buried only to the crown, every muscle in my back locked against the instinct to slam home and ruin us both.
Omegas are supposed to be loose by the time they reach a place like Blackthorn.
Years of heats, suppressants that never quite work, the revolving door of Alphas the system throws at them to keep the designations from tearing each other apart.
Government-mandated relief. Pack assignments handed out like candy to stop the riots.
I’ve seen it, smelled it, walked through the aftermath more times than I care to count.
Wet, willing, and worn open by necessity.
Vex is none of those things.
Her pussy milks me with deliberate, fluttering spasms, as though her body itself is testing whether I’m worthy of the next inch.
The scent of her blooms violently in the sunlit room—strawberries crushed under bare feet, whipped cream melting on a spoon, dark chocolate ganache left too long in the heat until it turns sinful and sticky.
Underneath it all threads something sharper, almost metallic, like the edge of a blade kissed by sugar.
It floods my lungs and short-circuits every civilized thought I’ve ever pretended to own.
“Fuck,” I rasp, forehead dropping to hers.
The pink silk sheets whisper beneath us, already damp with the first sheen of sweat.
Her mismatched eyes—lavender and emerald, both blown wide with the same feral hunger—are inches from mine.
She looks half-mad and entirely triumphant, like she’s been waiting years for an Alpha stupid enough to try claiming what she’s kept locked away.
I lean down and kiss her brutally, teeth clashing, tongue sweeping in to taste the strawberry sweetness on her tongue. She bites back, hard enough to draw a bead of blood from my lower lip, and the copper tang only makes her scent spike hotter.
“You sinfully tight little beauty,” I growl against her mouth. “Been reserving this pretty pink cunt for the day an Alpha finally earned it, haven’t you?”
She smirks against my lips, the expression so sharp it could cut glass.
“Previous one didn’t know how to handle precious goods. Decided he wasn’t deserving of the privilege.”
A low chuckle tears out of me, dark and appreciative.
The motion shifts my hips and sinks me another inch deeper. Her walls flutter wildly around the intrusion, pulling me in, trying to swallow more.
“I know how to take care of my valuables, Vex. But I also know how to fuck them into oblivion. Pick your poison.”
“Obviously be fucked into obli—” The rest of the word fractures into a broken moan as I drive forward, seating myself to the hilt in one ruthless stroke.
No gentleness. I can’t. Not when I’ve spent every night since the co-mingling hall jerking myself raw to the memory of her skipping across an empty quarter like she owned the air itself.
Not when her scent has lived in my nose like a drug for days, turning every cold punishment cell into a fever dream.
The bed creaks beneath us, sturdy enough to take the punishment I’m about to deliver.
Four walls. A real door. No cameras in the corners that I’ve found yet—though I’m sure Doc has eyes somewhere.
Let him watch. Let Silas listen from whatever shadowed corner of this ridiculous valley house he’s haunting.
They knew I’d get first blood. It was never a question. The need clawing at my spine since the moment she pressed broken glass to my throat would have dragged the whole asylum down with me if I didn’t bury it inside her soon.
I pull back and slam in again, hard, deep, the wet sound of it obscene in the sun-drenched quiet.
She arches off the silk, nails raking down my back hard enough to leave marks I’ll wear like medals.
Her moan vibrates against my mouth as I kiss her again, swallowing every broken sound like it’s payment for the weeks of torment.
“Riot—fuck—yes?—”
“That’s right,” I grunt, setting a brutal rhythm. The headboard knocks against the wall in steady, punishing beats. “Let them hear how a real Alpha handles what’s his.”
Her laugh is breathless, edged with that manic delight that makes my blood run hotter.
“Possessive already? We’ve been naked for what, thirty seconds?”
“Thirty seconds too long.” I hook one of her legs higher, opening her wider, and the new angle lets me grind against that spot inside her that makes her eyes roll back.
Her scent explodes—cake left too long in the oven, strawberries bruised and bleeding sugar, dark chocolate melting into sin.
It coats my tongue, sinks into my pores, rewires whatever was left of my higher reasoning.
She claws at my shoulders, hips rising to meet every thrust like she’s trying to wrestle control even while I’m splitting her open.
“Cocky bastard. What makes you think I’m yours?”
I nip her jaw, then soothe the sting with my tongue.
“Because you climbed me like a tree the second the door closed. Because your cunt is trying to milk my soul out through my dick. Because you smell like dessert and violence and every filthy thing I’ve wanted since you stole my beer.
” Another punishing thrust. “And because if any other Alpha even thinks about touching you, I’ll paint these pretty arches with his insides and make you watch. ”
She whimpers, the sound so sweet and broken it nearly undoes me. But then the lunatic in her resurfaces.
“Big talk for a man who’s been jerking off in a cold cell to the memory of my voice.”
I laugh against her throat, the sound rough and ragged.
“Guilty. Every fucking night. You gonna complain about the results?”
Her answer is to clench around me deliberately, rippling muscles that drag a groan from deep in my chest. The friction is liquid fire. Perfect. Devastating. I’ve had women. Plenty.
But none of them ever felt like coming home and walking into a trap at the same time.
I peel the ridiculous white dress up and off her in one rough motion—fabric tearing slightly at the seams—and toss it somewhere behind me. The sight of her bare beneath me steals what little breath I had left.
Scars and ink and smooth, flushed skin.
The velvet ribbon still at her throat like a claim she chose for herself long before I arrived. I latch onto one pert nipple, sucking hard while I drive into her, and her back bows off the bed with a cry that rings through the house.
Somewhere downstairs a door closes. Footsteps.
Doc or Silas pretending they aren’t listening. Good. Let them stew in it.
This moment is mine.
Her hands fist in my hair, tugging me back up to her mouth.
“Harder. Don’t you dare hold back, Riot.”
I don’t. I fuck her like the world outside this room doesn’t exist—like the murders, the institute, the carefully arranged cage of Arch Hollow are all distant noise.
Just her tight, throbbing heat gripping me, her scent wrapping around us both like smoke and sugar, her mismatched eyes locked on mine with that terrifying intelligence that says she’s cataloguing every second, every thrust, every growl, filing it away for whatever long game she’s playing.
I lift her hips higher, angling deeper, pounding into her with single-minded focus. The silk sheets are ruined beneath us, damp with sweat and her slick. Her moans climb higher, turning into whimpers, then a shattered scream as her orgasm crashes through her.
She clamps down on me so hard my vision whites out at the edges, her body seizing in rhythmic waves that try to pull me under with her.
“That’s it, baby. Sing for me.”
She’s still trembling, breathless and glassy-eyed, when I start moving again. Relentless. Chasing my own edge now but determined to drag her back up with me.
“Brace yourself, Vex. You’re gonna be Daddy’s good girl and take every fucking pump until you come all over my cock again.”
Her laugh is half-sob, half-challenge.
“Fuck yes.”
We’re naked messes now, skin sliding against sweat-slick skin, bodies moving on pure instinct. I can feel my knot beginning to swell at the base, heavy and aching, the first time in years it’s threatened to lock.
The sensation is almost painful—too much pleasure edged with warning. I know what it means. If I let it happen, if she lets me, there’s no coming back from this. Not for me.
Her scent shifts again, deeper, richer, the chocolate note turning molten. She feels it too—the growing pressure, the way my rhythm stutters as the knot fights to expand.
Her nails dig into my shoulders, eyes wide and wild and utterly present.
I press my forehead to hers, voice reduced to a gravel rasp.
“Yes or no, Omega. Tell me now.”
She curses, a filthy, perfect sound, and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me impossibly closer. Her legs lock around my waist.
“If you leave me I’ll kill you.”
The laugh that rips out of me is sudden, raw, and delighted. I thrust deep once more, grinding the swelling knot against her entrance, teasing the lock we both know is coming.
“I’d never want to be the prodigy of your ex, my pretty little Omega.” Another shallow grind. The pressure is agony and ecstasy braided together. “I’ll die for you, Omega. Remember that—I’m your new Puddin.”
Her new fucking pet that will burn the world for her.