Page 19 of Riot’s Revenge

“Can’t stop, Ria,” he said before sliding into me and thrusting hard. His hands held my hips hard enough to bruise, but all I could think was how full I felt with him inside me. His cock hit every sweet spot inside me. His hand slipped around, finding my clit, the rough pad of his finger circling it as he continued pounding.

“Riot, yes,” I called as my orgasm washed over me.

He followed soon after, feeling him swell and come inside me triggered another climax from me. I joined his moans and curse words as his fingers found my clit once more.

We both fell to the bed, breathing hard, and my legs shook.

“Jesus,” I breathed. Riot buried his face briefly against my neck, breathing hard enough for the warmth of it to spread across my skin.

Then his hand slid up my waist slowly before tightening there.

“You keep doing shit like that,” he muttered roughly against my throat, “and you’re gonna make me fucking addicted to you.”

I leaned back slightly just enough to look at him. “That so?”

His eyes widened just a fraction, I think he realized he’d walked straight into emotional territory and hated it. “Don’t start,” he muttered.

I smiled before kissing him anyway.

“Fuck,” he muttered suddenly.

“What?”

Riot dragged a hand down his face once before looking back at me. “I didn’t use a condom.”

“Oh my god,” I said slowly. “You got so distracted you forgot to put another one on?”

His expression turned immediately unimpressed. “You did that thing with your mouth and then your finger, and I got so turned on, I had to have you.”

“Are you clean?” My heart was pounding.

“Yeah, I get checked each month. You?”

“Yes.” Though I didn’t tell him it had been a long time of not having sex for me. “I’m also on birth control. We’re good.”

He smiled and pulled me back into him. “That’s good, nurse, ‘cause I really like fuckin’ you bare.”

9

MARIA

The phone incident happened three days later.

Riot showed up after midnight, already irritated from something club-related, and somehow, that only made him more intense. He’d thrust into me relentlessly, driving me higher every time he hit that special place inside me until I was clutching at his shoulders, trying to keep up with him. It wasn’t long before I was locking my legs around his waist, breathless and shaking while I called his name and dragged my nails down his back hard enough to leave marks.

He’d groaned against my throat when I did it, one rough hand gripping my thigh tighter while he muttered, “Fuck, Maria, keep doing that.”

By the time I finally fell asleep, sometime near dawn, I was exhausted, warm and heavy beneath the blankets while Riot lay beside me with one arm across my waist. But when I woke a few hours later, the bed beside me was empty.

I groaned and rolled over, reaching automatically for my phone on the bedside table.

Nothing.

Frowning, I checked beneath the blankets, then the floor beside the bed before grabbing my hoodie from the chair and searching the pockets. Still nothing. A growing sense of dread sent me into the bathroom, but the counter was empty too.

My gaze snagged on Riot’s lighter sitting beside the lamp, and I realized what had happened.

“That absolute dickhead.”