Page 95 of Riot House
She looks at me like I'm mad. “On the hood of the car? This car? Right now? At the side of the road?”
She's never going to agree to this. “Yes.”
“Where anyone could drive past and see?”
“Yes.”
“And we could get arrested?”
“Correct.”
“Okay, fine.” She fixes defiant blue eyes on me, daring me to fucking do it. She doesn't think I will. Boy oh boy, does she still have a lot to learn about me; when I say I'm gonna do something, I damn well do it.
“Sweet. Pants off. I want your naked ass on top of that paintwork in the next three seconds, or I'm gonna make you wish you'd kept your hands to yourself, Stillwater.”
She balks, but only for a split second. Out of the car she gets. I follow behind her, poised to chase her around the car if she misbehaves, but she hops herself up onto the Mustang’s hood and leans back on her elbows, giving me a tempting, teasing look that makes my balls throb. God, I want to fuck her so badly.
“You’re just gonna stand there?” she asks, her mouth quirking into a suggestive smile.
I tuck my hands into my pockets, shifting to rest my weight on one hip. “I’m waiting for those pants to come off. Don’t mind me, though. You make for a very pleasing sight up there.” Can she hear the ache in my voice? How far have I let myself fall? How bad is it gonna hurt when this girl finally realizes what a piece of shit I am, and she tosses my ass aside? And why do I keep experiencing these moments of panic out of the fucking blue, like I’m only a hair’s breadth away from catastrophe?
I know the answers to the last question, though I pretend not to. Easier to pretend than to face that truth. That, up until now, I haven’t made for a very good, honorable, or kind human being, and this new skin I find myself wearing now feels like a pretty suit that I stole. It doesn’t belong to me, and at some point someone’s going to want it back. It fits me, though. And I like fucking wearing it. I’m not gonna take it off without a fight.
The bright sound of her laughter makes me want to laugh, too. “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of girls sprawled out across the hood of this car,” she muses.
I bite my lip, quickly shaking my head.
“What?No?” She laughs again, the sound peeling high over the tops of the trees that flank the road. “I don’t believe it. I’m the very first?”
I move closer so that my shins are butting up against the fender, and I place my hands on the tops of her thighs. “This may be surprising to you, but you’ve scored a number of my firsts, Little E. First girl I’ve ever taken home. First girl I’ve ever called my girlfriend. First girl I’ve everloved.” This last admission’s a hard one. It catches in the back of my throat, not wanting to come out. I say it shyly, unable to look her in the eye.
She sits up, delicate fingers stroking over my cheek, gently turning my face so that I’m looking at her. “Then we’re in the same boat,” she whispers. “I’ve never loved a guy before, either.”
I catch hold of her, pressing my lips against the inside of her wrist. “First is a good start,” I rumble. “But I plan on being theonlyguy you love, Little E. Period. For the rest of time.”
“So greedy,” she says, teasing her fingers through my hair. Her cheeks are glowing, though. I haven’t seen her look this quietly pleased before, and it turns my insides into fucking Jello.
“So, so greedy,” I agree. “What kind of fool would I be if I ever risked letting you slip between my fingers? I’m yours. I’ll be your weak and pathetic plaything. You can use and abuse me how you see fit. I’ll still be here, asking for more. Speaking of which.” I lean forward and kiss her. I’m still getting used to how I feel whenever I do this: brimming over, too full, breathless and dazed. She sighs into my mouth as I lay her back onto the hood again. Her pupils are blown, the black swallowing the blue, as I work at the button on her jeans, unfastening them and dragging them quickly down her legs.
“Seconds thoughts? Change of heart?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Get on with it, Jacobi. Don’t you know how rude it is to keep a girl waiting?”
I pull her panties to one side, exposing her pussy. “Ouch. And you know how much Ihatebeing rude.”
She gasps when I sweep my tongue over her. It doesn’t take long to have her panting and writhing on top of the mustang. Her toes curl and uncurl reflexively as I tease the shit out of her, using light, purposeful flicks with the very tip of my tongue to drive her crazy. She shakes and shivers underneath me so beautifully that it’s almost enough to make me weep.
“Wren! Wren, oh my god. Fuck you.Fuck you!”
She knows my game. I want to keep her here like this, made vulnerable, trapped in a highly compromising position and seesawing on the edge of coming for as long as I can get away with it. I might not be the cold, callous, cruel prince of Riot House anymore, but I can still be a bastard when I want to be. I dig my fingers into her hips and the delicious plumpness of her ass, crushed against the car, and I bide my time.
“God… Please…. Please… Please… Wren! Let me come!”
Where would be the fun in that? Her whole body convulses as I laugh. She bucks her hips up, trying to earn herself more pressure from my mouth, but I lean back just far enough to frustrate her. “Mmm.Nowwho’s being greedy?” Goddamnit, she’s delicious. I can’t get enough. I run the flat of my tongue up in a broad, torturously slow sweep, and poor little Elodie whimpers like she’s getting desperate.
Not long to go now, though. I can hear the distant rumble of an engine coming up the road. Using the tips of my fingers, I prime her, dipping inside her pussy, enjoying the way she fists my hair and pulls on it juuuuust a little too much. My dick feels like it’s about to explode, but I can wait.
“Please, Wren,” she begs. “God, please. I need you. I—I want you inside me so fucking bad.”
