Page 112 of Riot

"That's my girl." He worked me slow at first, watching my face like he was memorizing every expression. "But I think it's time we try something new."

Before I could ask what he meant, he was lifting me, positioning me over him. My dress bunched around my waist ashe freed himself, and I felt the thick head of his dick pressing against my entrance.

“I Wait," I breathed, suddenly nervous. "I've never..."

"I know, baby." His hands steadied me, strong and sure. "But you're gonna ride me. Gonna take what's yours."

The way he said it, like I owned him as much as he owned me, made something fierce bloom in my chest. I braced my hands on his shoulders, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt, and slowly started to sink down.

"Fuck," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Just like that. Take your time."

But I didn't want to take my time. Not anymore. I wanted to feel all of him, wanted to know what it was like to be in control. I slid down inch by inch until he was buried deep, stretching me in ways that made stars burst behind my eyelids.

"Look at you," he growled, hands spanning my waist. "Taking all this dick like you were made for it."

I started to move, tentative at first, finding a rhythm. His hands guided me, helped me roll my hips in ways that made us both groan.

"That's it. Ride that shit." His head fell back against the couch, gold teeth catching the light as his mouth fell open. "Goddamn, Allure."

The power of it—of being on top, of watching this dangerous man come undone beneath me—was intoxicating. I moved faster, chasing the pleasure building between us.

"You feel that?" He gripped my hips harder, helping me bounce. "Feel how deep I am? How good we fit?"

I could only moan in response, lost in the sensation of him hitting spots inside me I didn't know existed.

"This pussy mine," he growled, sitting up suddenly to capture my mouth in a heated kiss. "Say it."

“Yours," I gasped against his lips.

"And this dick?"

"Mine," I said fiercer, grinding down harder.

"Fuck yes, it is." He wrapped one arm around my waist, using his strength to move me faster, harder. "Take what's yours, baby. Make me remember who I belong to."

The couch creaked beneath us as we moved together, our bodies finding a rhythm that felt ancient, primal. His mouth found my neck, sucking marks into my skin that I knew would last for days.

“Riot," I whimpered, feeling that familiar tension building. "I'm close."

"I know, baby. I can feel it." His thumb found my clit, circling in time with our movements. "Let go for me. Show me how good I make you feel."

When I came, it was with his name on my lips and his hands holding me like I might float away. He followed right after, groaning deep and raw as he filled me, marking me from the inside out.

We stayed like that for long moments, connected, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he murmured, pressing kisses along my jaw.

"What a way to go," I teased, making him laugh—that deep, rumbling sound I was becoming addicted to.

He stood suddenly, still inside me, carrying me toward the stairs. "We're not done. Not even close."

As he carried me to our bedroom, I realized this was what I'd been missing all those years in captivity. Not just freedom, but this—being wanted, being cherished, being claimed by someone who saw all of me and wanted more.

Tomorrow I'd worry about my mother's secrets. Tonight, I was exactly where I belonged.

Chapter 38

RIOT

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