Page 99 of Riot

She gasped as I began to devour her, licking and sucking at her sensitive pearl. I groaned against her, the vibrations making her hips buck. She tasted like sin and salvation all at once. I couldn't get enough. My tongue delved deep, thrusting in and out as I feasted on her nectar.

"Riot," she panted, tangling her fingers in my hair. "Oh god..."

I doubled my efforts, determined to make her shatter. I licked my finger and brought it to her clit, circling and flicking until her thighs began to quake. I heard her cry out and she came undone, flooding my mouth with her release.

Her hands fisted in the sheets, her back arched, a cry breaking free from her lips as she trembled under my mouth. She tried to keep quiet at first, but the pleasure caught her off guard, wild, raw, real. Her legs shook around me, her moans turned breathless, then quiet sobs as her first orgasm took her.

I worked her through the aftershocks before kissing my way back up her trembling body. I claimed her mouth, letting her taste herself on my tongue. She wrapped herself around me, clinging tightly as the last waves of pleasure ebbed. Tears slipped down her cheeks, soft, unrestrained, full of release.

“I didn’t know…” she whispered, voice cracked and full of wonder. “I didn’t know it could feel like this…”

I kissed her slow. “You ain’t felt nothin’ yet.”

She smiled, watery and full of something beautiful.

Then she pulled me closer, her voice hoarse, lips against my neck. “I want you. Now.”

I looked her in the eyes, my hand cupping her jaw.

“Not yet,” I said, steady.

She nodded, breath catching, but didn’t argue. Just kissed me again, holding me like she was afraid I’d disappear.

We stayed there, tangled and quiet, her head on my chest, my arm around her waist. I felt like I was home with her.

Chapter 32

ALLURE

It had been a week, and I was still riding the high.

Not just the thrill of freedom, though that was a constant vibration beneath everything. Not just the joy of being able to open a window when I wanted, walk barefoot across polished wood floors, or fall asleep without fear curling up in my chest like a clenched fist. No, this high was different. Deeper. It lived in my skin now. It bloomed behind my ribs and burned low in my belly every time Riot looked at me like I was already his.

He hadn’t taken me yet, not all the way. I was still a virgin. My body had never known the full weight of a man, never been split open with pleasure and trust at the same time. And Riot, he knew that. He respected it. He never rushed me, never pushed past the boundary of my readiness.

But every night, he worshiped me.

He ate my pussy like it was his religion, like pleasure was something sacred and I was the altar he’d been waiting to kneel before his entire life.

He took his time, never greedy, always focused. He kissed me like my mouth held answers he’d spent years searching for. He tasted me like my thighs were honey-dripped fruit meant to be savored. He whispered things into my skin that made my toes curl and my breath catch. I didn’t know a man could use his tongue like that, didn’t know he could make me tremble with just his lips and hands. I had no idea that surrender could feel like power. That coming apart could feel like being stitched back together.

The first time he made me come, I cried. Not out of pain. Not even out of pleasure, though it was the most intense thing I’d ever felt. I cried because something inside me broke free. Something I didn’t even know had been trapped. Years of numbness. Years of silence. Years of keeping my legs closed so tight, I forgot what softness felt like.

And he gave it back to me without ever sliding inside.

He was patient, but not passive. There was nothing soft about the way his mouth claimed me. His hands were rough from work, from fight, from years of survival, but when they touched me, they moved with intention. Like I wasn’t just a body to him. Like I was the whole damn experience.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his mouth felt against me, the way his tongue curled just right, the way he moaned into my pussy like he was the one being pleasured. I still blushed when I remembered how I had begged him to take me, how I had arched into him, fingers fisted in the sheets, trembling with need.

But he hadn’t.

He’d kissed the inside of my thigh, looked up at me with that devilish smile, and told me, “Not yet.”

That restraint only made me want him more.

And now, every time he passed me in the hallway, brushed my waist in the kitchen, or kissed the side of my neck when Iwasn’t expecting it, my entire body lit up. I could feel myself growing bolder. My walk had changed. The way I looked at him had changed. The girl who once curled in corners and feared the sound of her own heartbeat was now daring to own her desire.

I still had so much to learn. About my body. About the world. About freedom.

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