Page 67 of Riot House
This isreallyhappening?
“Elodie,” he pants. I wind my fingers into his hair, relishing the thickness of it, gulping down breath after breath as I try to master this crazy, out of control feeling that’s whipping around in my chest like a hurricane. “Elodie,” he repeats. He pulls back a fraction, tugging on a handful of my hair hard enough that I have to tilt my head back to look up at him. “This is the part where I’m supposed to tell you that we should stop if you’re not… if you… if you don’t…”
“Shut up and fuck me, Wren.”
His eyes flash a green so vivid and intense that they steal the oxygen right out of my lungs. “As you wish.” In one swift, powerful move, he flips me over and throws me down onto the bed, grinning like a demon as he kneels over me, eyes roaming the length and breadth of my body without a lick of shame. “For every filthy thought you’ve had about me, Stillwater, I’ve bested you ten times over. You’ve no idea how many times I’ve wrapped my hand around my cock and made myself come to you here in this bed. How many times I’ve almost bitten through my own fucking tongue, aching for you as I’ve shot my load all over my own stomach. I’ve always been a depraved and dirty thing, Elodie Stillwater, but the idea ofyouhas corrupted me to the point of insanity.”
Oh…my…fucking…god.
The thought of it. The very idea of him lying here in this bed, touching himself, stroking his dick, closing his eyes and painting himself pictures ofmeas his pleasure mounts…
It’s just too fucking much. Want burns between my legs, so urgent and demanding that I have to press my thighs together to prevent my hips from bucking of their own accord. Wren takes me in; he can see how glazed over and hungry my eyes are, and it only seems to urge him on.
“I’ve painted you on canvas, Little E, but it hasn’t been enough. All I’ve wanted to do…” He takes hold of the bottom of my shirt, fisting the hem of the thin material. “All I’ve beendesperateto do…” He rents the material in two, tearing it from my body, exposing my stomach and my chest. “Is paint your entire body with my come.”
He isn’t shy. He reaches out and palms my breasts through my black, lacy bra, growling through his teeth in an animalistic, possessive way that has my back arching off the bed. He bows himself over me, huffing down his nose, kissing and licking at the skin of my neck, and down, down, down, until he’s hovering right over my chest. How many times have I stared at that cruel, beautiful mouth of his and worried about how much damage it was capable of inflicting? It was too dangerous to imagine how much pleasure he could deliver with it. And now, here I am, spread out for him on his bed, finding out firsthand just how capable he is…
He rubs his jaw against my breasts, then clamps down over the thin, sheer material, pinching my nipple between his teeth, and—
“Fuck! Wren!”
Pain lights me up, brilliant and blinding, and a wicked smile spreads like sin across his face. With painstaking slowness, he slides his hand up my body, starting at my hip, moving over my stomach, my ribs, my shoulder, briefly taking hold of me by the neck, though not closing his fingers tight, and then continuing upward, until his palm is pressing down, featherlight, over my mouth.
“Believe me, Little E. You donotwant them to hear this.”
He’s talking about Pax and Dash, of course. His asshole roommates are probably lurking out there in the hallway, slapping each other and acting like dicks, straining to hear what’s going on in here. Wren’s expression is all warning. “I can fuck you, Elodie. I can take your breath away. I’ll make you come around my dick so fucking hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for a week. But you cannotmake a sound. Do you understand? If they hear…”
He doesn’t complete the sentence, but I can see that he’s being serious. Gravely so.
Dipping down, he kisses me roughly, his tongue and his teeth and his raw desire crowding in on me, making me dizzy. “Can you do that?” he asks, nipping at my bottom lip with his teeth. “Can you be quiet for me? Can you do what I tell you, when I tell you, without screaming the house down?”
I nod. I’ll gagmyselfif I have to, so long as he keeps on kissing me, and his eyes continue to feast on me like I’m the most delectable thing he’s ever seen. His hands are calloused and deliciously rough as he runs them down my body. I shiver, completely at his mercy as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my jeans and tugs at them suggestively.
“Lift your ass,” he commands. I do it without so much as flinching, planting my feet on the bed and hiking my hips up off the mattress. Wren unfastens my pants with quick, deft fingers, ripping the zipper down, then grabbing hold of the material and yanking it over my hips, tearing the denim from my legs. His eyes burn into me, devouring my bare flesh as he slides off the end of the bed and takes off his hoody. He does it in that lazy way that guys do, one hand reaching behind him, grabbing the material and tugging it over his head in a smooth move. His t-shirt goes with the hoody, both items of clothing dropping to the floor at his feet.
Then he’s standing there in nothing but his sweats, his thumbs dipping down below his waistband, smirking ruinously at me. There’s a dare in his eyes—something insolent and brazen that tells me he’s going to be naked if he pulls down those sweats.
“Wanna go back downstairs and drink more coffee?” he asks. He’s giving me an out. A chance to back away from this situation before it goes any further.
“I appreciate the offer,” I say breathlessly, “but I’m gonna explode if you don’t get back over here in the next three seconds and take care of me.”
Wren smiles, but it’s a humorless expression. He must feel it. This electricity between us must be eating him alive, the way it’s eating away at me. He takes down his sweats, and as I expected, his cock springs free from the thick material, standing proud as he steps out of the pants. A moment passes, where I dig my fingernails into my palms, so close to breaking the skin, and Wren stands absolutely still, allowing me to see him.
He’s hard as hell. And really fucking big. I expected nothing less; Wren gives off mad big dick vibes twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I just wasn’t expecting him to bethisbig. The heavy head of his cock bobs, and I feel like I’m sinking into the bed beneath me, disappearing into it, being swallowed up by the comforter and all the confusion of pillows.
Wren takes one step forward, palming himself in his hand. “Sure about that coffee?” He gives me an open-mouthed grin that almost makes my eyes roll back inside my head. Jesus wept, he’s fucking beautiful. I snuck a peak at him back at the gazebo, the night of the storm, but I didn’t let myself drink him in the way I’ve given myself permission to do now. His abs are ridiculously cut, his pecs standing proud from his muscled chest. And the defined vee that leads the eye down, down, between his legs, guiding me right to his erect dick…I can’t fucking look away. So, I look down instead. His balls are big—suspended, heavy and swollen between his thighs. Wren notices where I’m looking and moves his hand down, cupping himself, shuddering slightly when I let out a breathy whimper that’s embarrassing as hell.
“Isthis what you came here for, Little E? Did you know this was going to happen? Were you thinking about my dick the entire way down the mountain?”
I swallow, trying to make sense of what’s happening inside me right now. I’ve never been so conflicted before. There are too many thoughts and needs and wants, all quarrelling with one another, screaming over the top of one another, begging to be heard. My emotions are like one of Wren’s stormy paintings—a swirling mass of color and light and darkness, all mixed together, blurring and surreal.
Is this even really happening? Am I even really fucking here? Is this a feverish, delicious nightmare that I’m going to wake from, panting and covered in sweat?
“No,” I whisper. “I didn’t let myself think…this.” I didn’t. Such a thought would have been far too dangerous. If I’d let myself for one minute think that this might happen, I’d have been running back up the hill like the very devil himself was at my back.
Smart girls don’t tangle with the devil.
Girls who have a good head on their shoulders steer clear of this kind of trouble.
