Page 196 of Wallflower

My pussy pulses around nothing, begging to be filled in only a way Rip can provide. “I can try.” I pitch my voice in a pathetic beg, “Please, let me try.”

Ripley’s obsidian irises roll into the back of his skull as I plead for his cock, twisting my touch over the tip of his crown.

Abruptly, he spins us. Bracing his back against the building, he shoves his pants down his thighs. His length springs free as he inches down the wall.

His fist in my hair tightens to the point of pain as he lines me up in his lap. Rip’s fingers tug my bikini bottoms to the side, and he swipes his tip through my dripping centre. Slowly he tilts his hips, pressing into me.

“Ride me, show me how desperate you are to live.” He slams up into me, and my euphoric cry shatters the silence. Ripley’s pace is brutal. I thought I was supposed to try and save my life. It won’t mater if he fucks me to death.

Eh, there’s worse ways to go.

I’ve experienced them.

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 guesshisability to surviveme.

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.