Page 55 of Her Name in Red
Another wave crashes over me, another flood released. It's beyond embarrassing—it's obscene, animalistic, the wet sounds of my release and his greedy swallowing filling the small bedroom. But I can't stop it, can't control the way my body responds to him.
“That's it,” he praises, lapping up every drop he can catch.
When I finally come down, my entire body shaking, I find Riggs still between my legs, his mouth and chin glistening with my release, hair wild where I've been gripping it.
“Holy fuck,” I manage to gasp, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. The sheets beneath me are soaked, my thighs trembling uncontrollably.
“You taste sinful,” he rasps, voice wrecked. He crawls up my body, muscles shifting beneath tanned skin. His cock drags against my thigh, leaving a wet smear of pre-cum. “Never tasted anything so fucking perfect. Made me cum all over your damn floor without a single touch, yet again.”
His mouth crashes down on mine, and I can taste myself on his tongue—tangy and musky. Most guys shy away from this, but Riggs kisses me deeper, making sure I know exactly what I taste like, making me complicit in my own debauchery. I can’t believe he fucking already came. It’s so fucking hot when he does that.
I reach between us, wrapping my fingers around his length. He's so fucking hard again already, the skin velvet-soft. A bead of pre-cum leaks from the tip, and I swipe my thumb through it, using it to slick my way as I pump him once, twice.
Riggs groans against my mouth, his cock twitching in my hand. “Fuck, Maren, your tiny fucking hands?—”
My grip tightens, and he hisses, hips bucking forward. I pump him faster, watching his face contort with pleasure.
“You gonna fuck me with this dick, golden boy?” I taunt, twisting my wrist on the upstroke the way that makes his thighs tremble. “Or you just gonna let me jerk you off?”
“Shit,” he growls, suddenly pulling away from me. He stands up, taking several steps back toward the door.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” I prop myself up on my elbows, legs still spread, pussy still throbbing and wet. The sheets beneath me are soaked with my release. “Where the fuck are you going?”
“Gotta get the condom outta my wallet,” he says over his shoulder, already halfway to the counter where he dropped his stuff earlier.
I roll my eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't get stuck in the back of my skull. Reaching over to my nightstand, I yank open the drawer and pull out a strip of three condoms.
“Thanks but no thanks,” I call out, holding them up when he reappears in the doorway. “We'll use the ones I have.”
Riggs rolls his eyes, jaw tightening. “I didn't fucking poke holes in it,” he mutters, but crosses back to the bed. He snatches the strip from my hand, tearing one off with his teeth before tossing the rest onto the nightstand.
“Never can be too careful,” I say with a shrug, watching as he tears open the foil packet. “Especially with a man who's admitted to being obsessed with me.”
His eyes flash, something dark and possessive crossing his features. “Smart girl,” he says, rolling the condom down his length. “But we both know I wouldn't have to trap you to keep you.”
There's such conviction in his voice that a shiver runs down my spine. He believes what he's saying—that he could have me, keep me, without resorting to tricks or traps.
He crawls onto the bed, his body caging mine, arms braced on either side of my head. His cock nudges against my entrance, hot and insistent even through the latex.
He grabs his latex-covered cock in hand and runs it up and down my slit, gathering the juices still pooling there. The head catches on my clit with each pass, sending pulses through my overstimulated body.
“Get on with it already,” I hiss, arching into the contact despite myself.
“Impatient,” he murmurs, continuing to coat himself in my arousal. “Maybe I want to savor this moment.”
I roll my eyes, ignoring the way my heart hammers against my ribs. “I'm not begging for shit. And if you don't hurry up, I'll just go grab my dildo. At least it doesn't have a fucking ego.”
Something dangerous flashes in his eyes, and before I can process what's happening, his hand is around my throat. Not squeezing, just resting there—a gentle pressure that makes it clear he could tighten his grip if he wanted to. His thumb brushes over my pulse point, feeling it jump beneath his touch.
His eyes flash, something primal and possessive darkening them. “Yeah? Tell me about this dildo.”
“It's pink,” I say, just to be contrary. “And it doesn't talk back.”
He increases the pressure slightly, the head of his cock notching just inside me before retreating. The teasing is maddening, my pussy clenching around nothing with each shallow almost-penetration.
“Your toy make you squirt like I do?” he asks, voice deceptively casual as he continues to torture me with these barely there thrusts.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, wiggling my hips to try and force him deeper. “Are you going to fuck me or just rub your dickhead on me all night?”
