Page 164 of Blood & Throttle
That’s all it takes. His hands snap up to my waist, fingers digging into my hips like he owns me. Like he always has. His eyes are molten steel, locked on mine as I pull my shirt over my head and toss it to the floor. His gaze drags down, slow and hungry, then lifts back to my face with that look—that cocky, possessive heat that lights my veins on fire.
“Fuck,” he mutters, voice rough. “You do this on purpose.”
“What, breathe?”
His smirk twitches. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”
“Then stop me.”
He surges up and crushes his mouth to mine, hands dragging down my spine as he rolls us over, pinning me to the bed. His weight feels like gravity. Like punishment and promise all at once. Our teeth clash, tongues war, and every breath is a dare.
I yank his shirt off over his head, running my hands down his chest, over the scar carved just above his hip, the muscle that twitches when I trace it slow. He hisses through his teeth.
“Gonna break me, Riot?”
He growls, teeth scraping the shell of my ear. “You’re theone grinding on me like a fucking tease. Don’t whine when I bite.”
“I don’t whine,” I pant, dragging my nails down his back. “I beg.”
“Even better.”
He dips down and kisses the curve of my throat, sucking hard enough to bruise. I arch up, pressing against him, every nerve ending screaming for more. My body feels molten, wired to his. And when he slides down my body, dragging my shorts off with one rough tug, I swear I forget how to breathe.
He settles between my thighs like he belongs there.
Because he does.
Riot parts me with two fingers, slow and unhurried. “Fuck, Sin… you’re soaked.”
“Then do something about it.”
He grins wickedly. “Gladly.”
His mouth replaces his hand, and I jolt, back arching, fingers tangling in his hair as he licks me slowly. One long drag of his tongue, and I’m shaking. Moaning. Writhing. He devours me like he’s starving and I’m the only meal that’s ever mattered.
When he adds a finger, then two, curling them just right while his tongue circles my clit, I shatter, crying out his name, thighs clenching around his head. He doesn’t stop. Just keeps fucking me with his fingers, dragging the orgasm out until I’m twitching beneath him.
“Look at you,” he growls, voice thick. “Fucking wrecked already.”
“Not even close,” I pant, yanking him up by his shoulders. “I want more.”
He kisses me hard, letting me taste myself on his lips. Thenhe falls back onto the bed, arms behind his head like he’s daring me. That fucking smirk curls at his mouth.
“That so?” he drawls. “Well then, stray… use me. Show me what you want.”
I don’t hesitate.
I unbutton his jeans, dragging them down over his hips, watching him spring free. He’s thick and hard, already twitching in my hand when I wrap my fingers around him and stroke—slow, tight, teasing.
His jaw clenches, eyes dark. “Sin.”
I glance up with a sly smile, licking my lips. “I will,” I murmur. “But first… it’s my turn to play.”
Before he can speak, I slide down between his legs, kiss along the sharp line of his hip, and then press my tongue to the base of his cock. A groan rips from his throat as I take him in, inch by inch, wet and slow.
“Goddamn,” he mutters, one hand finding my hair, the other curling into the sheets.
I suck him deeper, letting my lips glide down the thick length, pulling back only to tease the head with my tongue before swallowing him again. His hips twitch. His breathing gets rough. I keep my rhythm steady, dragging soft moans from him as he tilts his head back and exhales sharp through his teeth.
