Chapter 19 Sloane
Sloane
What have I done?
Maybe it was the bottle of wine that I drank earlier tonight, or maybe it was a temporary loss of sanity that caused me to move to his side of the bed and wrap my arm around him.
However, now my predicament is much worse …
or better. It depends on how you look at it.
The illogical side of my brain is having a field day right about now.
No sooner than I put my arm around his very muscular body, he was reacting faster than a boa constrictor going in for the kill.
He flipped me around so fast that I barely had time to register it.
Now, my back is pressed firmly against his too-toned chest, and his too-large hand is wrapped under me and around my throat, pulling my head back.
His mouth is against my ear, and his breath sends a shiver straight down my spine.
My chest heaves, and before I can stop myself, a moan escapes my lips.
“Sloane.” My name is all but a growl from his mouth against my ear.
He moves his lips down to the curve of my neck, and my back instinctively arches, causing my ass to press against his dick that is already so hard.
Another moan slips from my lips, and he bites on my earlobe.
His other hand trails down to the top button of my shirt.
Before I can register what he’s doing, he grabs the inside of my shirt and pulls, completely ripping the buttons apart in the process. Holy hot as hell.
His hand grabs and tugs at my now exposed right nipple without restraint.
His touch is hungry and untamed, like he’s a beast that’s been released from its enclosure.
He moves to the opposite nipple, giving it the same ravenous attention as the first. I rub my thighs together, seeking some sort of friction.
“So perfect,” he groans against my skin.
My right hand instinctively plunges into my pajama shorts to satisfy the aching need. I don’t make contact before he grabs my wrist, stopping me.
“Only good girls get to come, Sloane,” he murmurs against my neck.
Oh, fuck. It’s like he’s a completely different person right now.
I can’t say that I’m sad to see this side of him, though.
Unfortunately for him, I almost come hearing his dirty words alone.
Unfortunately for me, I’m pretty sure he’s dead ass serious.
“Riven … please, I …” I arch my neck back as I moan the words out in a breathless, needy pant. I’m ashamed of the vulnerability he’s managing to bring out of me right now. Or maybe I just really want to come.
“Are you a good girl, Sloane?” He releases the hand that’s around my throat to lay me flat on my back. He uses his new position to suck my nipple into his mouth as his hand travels to the waistband of my pajamas. I arch into his touch.
“Mmmm, so needy. But I’m gonna need you to use your words, darling.” Darling?! Oh … God. He pauses with his hand right inside the waistband of my shorts, and I nearly beg him to keep going.
“Please,” I manage to get out in a breathy whimper.
“Please … what, Sloane?” His hand is still resting so fucking close to where I desperately want it. Need it.
“Please, Riven. Let me come,” I all but whine, the desperation taking over my senses.
My words seem to snap something into place as his gaze turns purely feral, a sure mirror to mine. His pupils are nearly black, making the stormy gray rimming one of them a breathtaking contrast. His black hair falls over them as his gaze moves from mine back to what he started.
“That’s my girl.” My girl? My eyes nearly roll back at the way he says it. He moves his hand in an agonizingly slow descent to find that I’m not wearing underwear. He glances up at me with a look that can only be described as one of insatiable need.
“I … it’s uncomfortable to sleep in them.” A low groan is his only response as he moves his fingers lower, and lower, and …
“Fuck, Sloane. You’re so wet.” He plunges a single finger inside of me and then moves it back up to my clit where he rubs in slow, torturous circles.
I toss my head back and let out a moan, arching into his hand.
My eyes are squeezed shut, and I’m already chasing that building sensation deep in my core as my breathing picks up.
Then, he stops.
My eyes pop open, staring straight up at the ceiling as a deep laugh escapes his lips. He turns to me.
“Eyes on me, Sloane. I want to watch you come undone. I want to see how pretty you look when you let go of that control.”
My eyes shoot straight to his, and I lose all ability to speak. Instead, I nod my head up and down like a fool, earning another dark chuckle in response. He lets my lack of a verbal reply pass this once and starts moving his hand again. Thank fuck.
This time, he doesn’t hold back.
His fingers move in quick circles now, and the orgasm that I was sprinting toward edges back into view.
My breathing deepens until it’s coming out in quick pants.
He moves from my clit to slip a finger inside of me, and then two, as he twists his fingers upward to find that spot that has my vision going black.
On basic human instinct, my eyelids start closing, and I snap them back open.
A wicked grin plays on his lips in approval.
“That’s it, Sloane. You’re so tight for me. You’re doing so good. Let go.”
I’m positive I won’t be able to hold his gaze a second longer, but his words are enough to send me plunging straight over the edge and into oblivion.
My hands fist into the sheets at my sides, and my eyes water as stars erupt over my vision.
Exactly as he wanted, I come utterly undone, harder than I ever have in my entire life.
Once my vision clears and my eyes meet his, I’m faced with an intensity that I’m sure could smother me to death if I allowed it.
I find myself wanting to crawl into the darkness staring back at me.
I shiver, grabbing hold of my runaway thoughts as he removes his hand and brings his fingers up to my lips.
He rubs his thumb over my bottom lip, and I part them without thought.
“Here, taste yourself,” he orders, pressing two fingers into my mouth and against my tongue. And without thought, I snap my lips closed around them and suck. Oh … my …
“Fuuuuck, Sloane.” His head falls forward, hair brushing against my bare chest.
“I need to taste you for myself.” He snaps his eyes up to mine, and before I even have time to protest, he’s moving. Twice? I … there’s no way. No one has ever—
My thoughts are immediately tossed aside when he grabs my shorts and pulls them down, tossing them off the bed.
I push up to my elbows and take this moment to avoid the way his eyes are assessing me and instead notice that he’s still wearing his sweatpants.
I sit up to pull them off, and he grabs both of my wrists in his hands.
In one swift motion, he has me pinned back against the bed. I breathe heavily.
“Tonight isn’t about me. This is about you.” His eyes move back and forth between mine before flicking his gaze to my mouth. It was so quick that I barely noticed it. I want his mouth on mine so damn bad.
“I want to make you come again so hard that your brain rewires itself to only think about me when you touch yourself. Got it?” he says.
I nod, a little too enthusiastically. He doesn’t let up.
I know what he wants, and I consider disobeying him if only to have him remain this close.
If I moved an inch, my lips would be against his. So … close.
“Words, Sloane,” he warns. I run my bottom lip between my teeth, licking as I do. His eyes shift to my lips again. Yes … yes, please kiss me. His jaw flexes like he’s having to restrain himself, but he doesn’t make a move.
“Yes, I got it. I understand,” I say back, finally giving him the response he’s seeking.
He lets go of my wrist and pushes back until he’s kneeling before me.
“Spread your legs,” he orders, that look of dark intensity taking over his features once more. It’s a look that I both want to run from and toward. It’s intriguing.
I obey, spreading them open for him.
He looks down at my exposed center, laid before him like it’s the most divine thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. I swallow. His gaze makes me want to look away, but I don’t make that mistake again. I want whatever he’s offering, even if it’s only this, whatever this is.
“Not like this,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me.
Before I can ask what he means, he bends down, hooks his arms underneath my back, and spins me around until I’m straddling him.
I gasp. He stares up at me for a second before grabbing my ass in both of his hands and moving me up toward him until I’m hovering over his face. Oh.
“Grab the headboard and sit on my face, Sloane,” he growls, growing impatient.
That side of my brain that speaks logic and sound reasoning is yelling at me to overanalyze the situation.
And although this is where I usually become self-conscious and stop, I do the complete opposite.
I sit on his face, and I grab the fucking headboard.
“Yessss,” he moans against my pussy, causing me to move my hips back and forth in response.
“That’s it, Sloane. You taste so fucking good, so sweet.
” And that’s the last thing he says before he’s licking and sucking, and I’m losing control …
again. My hands grip the headboard in front of me as I ride his face shamelessly.
His hands grip my ass, pressing me into him as close as he can get me.
Within minutes, I’m standing on that edge again, ready to fall to my death.
He groans against my clit, sucking it into his mouth over and over, and I feel the orgasm clawing its way to the surface once more.
I let go of the headboard and bring my hands to his hair, grabbing a fistful of it as I tug him toward me.
And then I fall, hard.
Stars dance across my vision again, and I throw my head back as his name leaves my lips in a breathy moan.
This orgasm is somehow even stronger than the first one.
I sit there for a few minutes, collecting myself.
My legs shake as he gently flips me over until I’m lying on my back again.
He leans over me, brushing sticky strands of hair out of my face as I recover from the high.
“You did so good for me. So perfect.” I look into his eyes, realizing that I have a serious praise kink. Add to the list, I think to myself, huffing out a laugh. Where in the world did this guy come from, and why is he into me?
“What?” he asks, an amused look dancing across his features. His eyes are light and look nothing like they did when his mouth was just devouring me.
“Oh, nothing. Just … what are we doing?” The question escapes my brain before I’m able to filter it. It’s so unlike me. The multiple orgasms are clearly eliciting some sort of brain damage.
He’s seemingly unfazed by the question as he answers, “Whatever we want.”
He’s drawing lazy circles across my abdomen with a single finger, and I hate how much I love the way it feels. I hate how easy it all feels.
“Mmmmm,” I hum as exhaustion begins to fill my bones, and my eyes start to close. He turns me on my side and pulls me into him, wrapping an arm over me. The last thing I remember is his breathing against my ear before sleep consumes me.