Epilogue #2
His palm cracks off my ass, the heated leather snapping the pain. “Are you just going to sit there and take it?” he snarls, and I dig my nails into his thighs. They quake from exertion but the slight sting makes him writhe.
Gripping my sides, he seals us together. Rip winds his hips, holding me hostage against him as that monstrous dick rocks deep, crossing my eyes.
A garbled moan escapes my lips. “Yes,” I reply, knowing it will twist him tighter. I was ready to drag his pleasure out slowly, but Rip loses his mind once he sinks inside me, and I fucking love it.
His breath hisses through his teeth. “Not this time, it’s my fucking turn.”
Then he roughly shoves me from his lap.
My palms scramble for purchase before I hit the ground. I skid in the dirt, more small rocks and pebbles digging into my already sore knees.
I make to crawl away from the man infuriated with my greed, but I don’t get far.
He steps over me, legs on either side of my waist, as his fingers sink and twist in my damp red hair. The lingering kiss of the salty ocean water making it rough and matted.
His demanding touch yanks me up, spinning me around. My lips drop open, an objection or plea on the tip of my tongue.
“Not a fucking word.” His angered snarl ricochets between my thighs, and I feel emptier than ever.
Snapping my lips shut, I comply. I’ll agree to anything when he talks like that, heated stare melting me from the inside.
Ripley’s grip on my hair pulls tears from my eyes, and he groans low at the sight.
“Look at you,” he rumbles, wiping away a tear with his thumb.
“So helpless without your little jar of toxin, bloodflower. How ever will you survive me?” His fingers travel lightly down my neck, continuing to my sternum.
Rip’s gaze is devouring, fanning the fire within me to a raging inferno.
I shiver in anticipation at his words, but I’m sure he clocks the movement as fear-driven.
His hot touch traces over the swell of my breast, pulling the cup of my bikini top to the side. Tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, he pulls the other side of my top away. Rip’s teeth sink into the pillowy flesh of his bottom lip, digging deep as he tries to control his desire.
He can’t.
It throbs and flexes inches from my face, precum leaking from the desperate tip.
His punishing grip on my hair keeps me in place. I know how to survive him. More than that, I know how to make him second guess his ability to survive me.
Rip cups my chest with his free hand, working my nipples into tender, aching points. “Please,” I mewl, locking his sights.
“No,” he growls.
“Rip…” I infuse as much need and desire into my voice as I can.
His eyes pull away from me, closing for a moment of reprieve.
“Look at me.”
Ripley’s dark eyes clash with mine, shocks of emotion kicking me right in the gut.
My palms travel up my thighs, stopping at my hips where the ties of my checkered suit bottoms rest.
“Rose…” he growls.
A warning.
Slowly, I fiddle with the bows, watching his restraint crumble with each passing second.
I pinch the tie of the left side between my fingers, pulling it free leisurely.
“Do. Not.” The lethally sharp tone leaves no room for miscommunication. Like I give a shit. I’m addicted to twirling on the tip of his blade.
I pull the knot free, and the sides fall away.
“Stop,” he hisses. “What if someone sees?”
I shrug. “You started it.” A slow smirk curls my lips, and I yank the tie on my other side. The bottoms tumble to the ground between my spread thighs, exposing all of me to my better half.
The resonance of the growl deep in his chest is feral, animalistic, and completely new.
Fuck. Yes.
My fingers slide into my core, pumping slow.
His gaze darkens evermore, locking onto the movement.
Arousal coats my digits when I slide out, raising them to Ripley’s length.
His knees damn near give out at the first touch of my slickness.
My fingers wrap around him, unhurriedly stroking up and down. He chases my touch, urging me for more.
I drag it out—slow, deliberate. Knowing the mounting minutes weave his pleasure and apprehension into a web so intricate, he’ll never escape.
He’ll snap the threads that bind him before I bend to him.
And then I’ll get exactly what I want.
Leaning forward, I bring my mouth down over his tip to the melody of his choked whimper.
“Fuck…” he pants, “fuck yourself with your other hand.” His words are choppy, breathy. Undoing him is my favourite hobby.
I spread my legs more, following his instruction for once. A whimper vibrates down his shaft when I plunge my fingers into my centre. He moans in response, sights dancing between his cock in my mouth and my fingers buried in my cunt.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispers.
I look up at him, flabbergasted. That was the last thing I expected at this moment, but it sends warmth…love spreading through me.
My nails curl into the back of his thigh as I swallow his cock. His length swells, twitching in pleasure as Ripley fights to hold back the orgasm clawing to erupt.
He fights my grip, pulling his dick from between my lips. “What are you doing?” I ask, wiping away the saliva stringing us together.
Yanking me up by my curls without a word, he grips my wrist with his free hand. Raising my fingers to his mouth, his lips close over my slick skin, licking and sucking every trace of my arousal clean.
Pulling them free with a groan as his eyes reopen, he observes me.
I don’t know what he wants, what his plan is.
He takes a step, tugging me along to the back of the building. His movements are hurried, frantic, and I don’t know why.