Page 58 of Hating On Riot

“Once we do this, there’s no going back.” He searches my face with that penetrating gaze.

“I know.”

He lowers his pelvis onto mine, and the contact is instant, hot, like a lightning bolt of heat to my core. Or more like a fast-moving fire, its flames heating me. My eyes flutter closed.

I’m grabbed by the throat. My eyes snap open.

“Eyes on me, Arie.” He presses the heel of his palm against my throat. Not enough to hurt, but enough to get my attention. His face is granite. His gaze is steely. His full lips tighten into a thin line. Riot is hard lines and sharp angles.

Being with him won’t be all rainbows and sunshine. It will bring storms, lightning, and thunder, and I realize I want those things. I’m not a rainbow-and-sunshine girl anymore. Or maybe I never was, and I convinced myself to stick to a routine that was predictable and safe because, growing up, my life was a mess and in constant upheaval.

We moved several times within the housing development in Alexandria, depending on how many children Mom had. More children meant moving to a different apartment with an extra bedroom.

Tucking those memories away, I refocus on Riot. He’s staring at me, his expression softening. “I’m here if you need to talk.”

I nod, afraid that speaking will bring a rush of emotions to the surface. I can’t deal with feelings right now, but I can handle my body’s reaction as Riot nuzzles my neck and whispers against my heated flesh. “You’re mine, Arie. Always were and always will be mine.”

“Yours,” I say with awe.

We are doing this. Making love. Him being my first.

With his face nestled in the crook of my shoulder, he skims his knuckle along my temple and jawline, then rests the pad of his thumb on my bottom lip.

“Open.” His voice is low and gravelly, sending heat to my sex.

I hesitate.

He puts pressure on my bottom lip.

“Now, Arie.”

“Bossy!”

“You like it,” he growls, dipping his hips and sliding his thickness over my folds, still clothed.

The friction of our clothes, the fact I’m not wearing underwear . . . My lips part. Riot slides his thumb in, followed by another finger. Eyes on his, I suck on his fingers. Coat them with my saliva. Suck on them slowly like I would his cock. Swirl my tongue around the thick digits. He groans, the sound coming straight from his core. I bite down. His eyes widen. I bite harder. He yanks his fingers from my mouth, drops his head into the curve between my neck and shoulder, and smiles.

“Is that my punishment for bossing you around?”

“You like it,” I retort.

He laughs, and my body melts from how soft his lips are on my skin. How warm his breath is when he whispers my name with need on my heated flesh. He lowers his body full on mine, pressing me into the bed, and every fiber of my being comes alive.

Heat floods my core. My sex aches. Needing more of him and the hard lines and soft curves of his body, I wrap my legs around his waist and bring our lower halves closer. His erection nestles in my sweet spot. It’s thick. I don’t want just the weight of his arousal on my sex.

“Move on me,” I rasp, my breathing unsteady as heat engulfs me from head to toe.

I need to feel his erection slide over my sex through our clothes. My shorts are skimpy, and the material is thin. The hem is also wide, leaving room for him to slide his large hand under and stroke my sex. His shorts could be boxers. They don’t leave much to the imagination when he’s hard. My mouth waters whenever he’s turned on, and the evidence of his arousal is clear as a thick outline crowding his shorts.

“Never have I ever skinny-dipped while it poured buckets from the sky.”

I roll my head from side to side in frustration. “You didn’t.”

“I did, beautiful. Now play the game.”

I smile. This guy of mine . . . He’ll make this moment memorable. For me. For us. I grab the hem of my tank top and tug it off, baring my breasts to him. He stares, heat in his gaze. There’s an urge to cover their small size, but I don’t. Riot finds my girls to be beautiful.

“Never have I ever streaked a professional soccer game,” I say triumphantly, looking forward to my reward as a witness to that spectacular event that the kids at our high school spoke about and still do to this very day.