Page 44 of Her Name in Red
I press the knife into his skin again, just below his right pectoral, applying just enough pressure to draw another thin line of blood. Riggs' entire body shudders beneath me, his cock hardening even further against my center.
“You're so fucked up,” I breathe against his skin, watching the goosebumps rise in the wake of my words. “Getting hard while I cut you.”
“Says the girl who's soaking through her panties,” he counters, one hand sliding between us and down the waistband of my pants. His fingers press against my center, finding the exact spot where I need him most. “Christ, you're drenched.”
I can't deny it. My body betrays me, clenching around nothing as his fingers circle my clit through the thin cotton. The pressure is maddening—enough to tease but not enough to satisfy.
“Shut up,” I manage, but there's no heat behind it. Not when I'm grinding down against his hand, desperate for more pressure, more friction, more of him.
“Make me,” he challenges, and slides his finger inside me in one smooth motion.
Chapter 16
Riggs
Holy. Fucking. God.
She's so wet I slip right in, her body gripping my finger like it was made for me. Her head falls back, exposing the long line of her throat where my marks are already starting to bloom. I curl my finger inside her, finding that spot that makes her thighs shake.
“That's it, baby,” I growl, adding a second, stretching her. “Ride my hand. Show me how much you want it.”
The knife in her hand gleams in the dim light, the blade catching the glow from the TV. I don't know if she realizes she's still holding it, but I'm acutely aware of every movement she makes, every twitch of her fingers around the handle.
“Fuck, Riggs,” she moans, her hips working in tight circles now, fucking herself on my digits. Her wetness is coating my palm, making obscene sounds with every thrust.
“You like that?” I tease, pressing my thumb against her clit as I curl my fingers inside her. “Like fucking yourself on my hand while you hold a knife to my chest? Such a little fucking psycho.”
Her eyes snap open, and the look in them is feral and it’s absolutely fucking beautiful.
“You're so fucking tight,” I tell her, my voice rough with need. “Can't wait to feel you around my dick.”
“You think I'm gonna let you fuck me?” she asks, but her cunt is gripping my fingers like she never wants to let go. “Think you've earned that?”
“I think you're gonna beg for it,” I say. “Think you're gonna say please, Riggs, please fuck me, I need it so bad.”
Her eyes flash, dangerous and wild. “I don't beg.”
I lean forward, ignoring the knife, until my lips brush her ear. “You will. For me.”
Before I can register what's happening, Maren pushes off me, my fingers slipping out of her with an obscene wet sound. She stands abruptly, swaying slightly before finding her balance.
“The fuck?” I growl, my hand still wet with her arousal, my cock painfully hard against my joggers.
She doesn't answer. Just hooks her thumbs under the waistband of her bottoms and drags them down her legs in one smooth motion. The fabric catches briefly on her ankle before she kicks it free, sending the sweats flying to one side and her panties directly at my face.
I snatch them out of the air, my reflexes kicking in even when my brain is fucking short-circuiting. The cotton is drenched, soaked through with her arousal. I bring them to my face without thinking, inhaling deeply.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I groan, the scent of her filling my lungs. I can't help myself as I run my tongue along the wet fabric, tasting her, savoring the tangy sweetness that is pure Maren.
Her scent is still on my tongue when I see her standing there, watching me like a predator sizing up prey. My dick throbs, so fucking hard I think I might bust right here, make a goddamn mess of myself like some virgin teenager. I reach down to adjust, to give myself some relief from the painful strain against the fabric.
“Tsk.” The sound cuts through the room. “Don't fucking touch it.”
I freeze, hand hovering over my cock. “The fuck am I supposed to do with this situation, then?” I gesture at the obvious bulge in my pants.
“Get the fuck up,” she commands, voice low and dangerous, the knife still clutched in her hand.
I stand unsteady, my legs feeling like they might give out. My brain's trying to catch up, figure out where she's going with this, what game we're playing now. With Maren, it's always a game and I'm always one move behind.
