Page 56 of Hating On Riot

He’s fisting his erection. Jerking off as his mouth covers my pussy. He slips a finger inside me. Then another. He stretches my pussy. His fingers, his mouth, his other hand wrapped around his cock like a fist . . . My insides coil tight. My face is hot from desire. My body is an inferno.

He pumps his fingers inside me at the same time he mouths my swollen nub. My arms shake. My thighs tremble. I’m ready to collapse onto the bed, but I can’t take my eyes off his dark head of hair between my legs and how his hand fists his cock.

My pussy aching, I yank on his hair. I’m ready to explode. I need to come. He must realize that too. He goes harder with his fingers, his mouth, and his hand. The sight is unreal. Surpasses my imagination as I lay alone in bed, touching myself with his face in my mind.

“Riot. Oh, God, Riot!” I come on his face in a rush of heat, my body trembling with the aftershocks of the best orgasm. I fall back onto the bed.

He latches onto my pussy and laps up my juices before he pumps his cum onto my stomach and slams his mouth on mine, giving me a taste of my sex. “Fuck, you’re beautiful when you come,” he murmurs against my mouth when we come up for air.

I pull him down to me with my arms wrapped around his shoulders, not caring that his body on mine spreads his cum on our sweat-slicked skin. “Riot?”

“Hmm?” he asks, his voice thick with sleep.

“Thank you.”

“For what, baby?”

“For making what just happened about us rather than you or me.”

“We are a team.” He swipes strands of hair sticking to my sweat-dampened forehead, then hops off the bed, grabs a towel from the bathroom, and gathers our clothes.

“Of course, it’d be about us.” He wipes the cum off our stomachs, then presses the towel gently to my pussy, soaking up my juices, before he yanks on his T-shirt and shorts.

I shimmy on my shorts before we crawl under the covers. He pulls me to him until my head is rested in the crook of his shoulder. “You comfy? You okay? You want me to close the window?”

“The temperature’s fine. I’m more than okay. I’m sated.” I snuggle into his warmth.

“Sated.” He glances sidelong at me with a lopsided smile. “I like that.”

We lie just like that, in quiet, at peace, for what seems like forever. I wait for him to fall asleep so that I can sneak out of his bedroom and into the spare. Through the light from the parking lot coming into the windows, I see he’s awake, staring up at the ceiling.

“Riot?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I change my mind.” I set my palm over his heart. “I don’t want slow. I want you. I want us.”

“You sure?” His heartbeat under my palm keeps pace with mine. My heart beats hard and fast against my rib cage. “Once I’m inside you, once I spill my seed in you, you are mine.”

His words carry absolution, a finality that scares but excites me.

Haven’t I always wanted to be Riot’s? To have him be my first? Oh, shit, I’d better tell him. He’s huge, and I’m small. Will we fit?

“Um, Riot?”

“Yes, babe?”

“I. . .” I sigh.

“That was deep.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head.

My insides turn to mush.

“It’s because what I have to tell you is embarrassing.”

“Shoot. This is a safe space.” He gets us on our sides, tucks my head under his chin, and rubs my back. With each breath he takes, our chests touch. I resist purring like a satisfied cat sunbathing in front of a big picture window.

“Riot, I’m a virgin.”