Page 125 of Blood & Throttle
I ride his hand like it’s the only thing keeping me together, the slap of skin and the wet sounds of my arousal filling the dim room. He grunts into my neck, praising me in low, dirty whispers.
“That’s it, Little Stray. Take it. Let me feel you clench around my fingers. Show me how bad you need it.”
His voice burns like gasoline on skin. His teeth scrape the back of my shoulder, breath hot and ragged.
My climax builds fast—too fast, and he knows it.
“Not yet,” he growls, slowing the rhythm.
I whimper as I squirm.
“Riot, please.”
He tightens his hold on my throat, just a little. “You gonna come when I tell you?”
I nod frantically. “Yes. Yes, just… don’t stop.”
He thrusts harder.
“Then fucking do it.”
I crash—full body, nerve-scorching release that leaves me shaking against him, thighs trembling, mouth parted in a silent cry. He keeps fucking me through it, pace relentless, until I collapse boneless against his chest.
His hand slides from my throat to my jaw, turning my face toward him. He kisses me, hard and rough, tongue sliding against mine like he needs it to survive.
We breathe each other in.
When he finally stills, his fingers leave me soaked and aching, his arm pulling me closer like he can’t let go.
And maybe he can’t.
I blink slowly, head spinning, sweat cooling on my chest.
He presses his face into my neck.
“I’ll never let anything fucking touch you,” he murmurs. “Not while I’m breathing.”
I don’t answer.
I just grab his bloodied hand, kiss his palm, and hold it to my chest.
Because Ibelievehim.
Even when I shouldn’t.
His breath settles just as my eyes slip shut.
It’s one of those rare moments we never get to keep. The kind with no blades in the dark. No roaring crowds. Just heat, quiet, and sweat.
A knock.
We both freeze.
It’s soft. Almost polite. But in this place, nothing polite ever means anything good.
Riot growls into the back of my neck. “Fuck off.”
Silence.
