Riot

“I normally have more self-control. I don’t come so fast.” Great, now my professional pride is hurt. Awesome, Riot. Shut up.

“I liked it.”

I glance up, needing to see her face. She’s taken off her blouse that’s wet with my cum and put on her sweater. I didn’t even get to see her in her bra, and that sucks. My dick gives a twitch at the thought, but isn’t up to more action just yet.

Throwing my legs off the bed, I wait to see what she wants to do next. Not sure how much time has passed. Didn’t even think to ask if she booked one hour or two. I rub at the red marks on my wrists, trying to figure out where t

o go from here, when she sits down beside me.

“Let me see that,” she says and takes my hands in hers. “Does it hurt?”

“Nah, I’m fine.” Who cares if it hurts? Her fingertips are light on my wrists, her small face intent as she studies the marks. Her fingers dance up my arm, to the tattoos.

“Pax.” I wait until she looks up. “Let me touch you, too. Let’s try.”

“No.” She shakes her head, pulls away. I see the fear darkening her gaze, her defenses dropping into place. “I can’t.”

“You touched me.” Everywhere. “I want to pleasure you, too.” I swallow hard. “It’s what I’m here for, Pax.”

“Seeing you come was a pleasure,” she says, and her cheekbones flush.

It sends a bolt of hot need straight to my dick.

Down, boy. Enough.

“I want to take care of you.” I force myself not to reach for her, not when she’s skittish like a kitten. “I want to make you come, too. You’re beautiful.”

Her flush deepens. “God, I wish...I wish I could do this already.”

Sex. God, I wish that, too.

“It’s okay.” Stupid, Riot, pushing her when she’s not ready. What she did today blew my mind. “You’re not afraid of me anymore, are you?”

“I don’t think so.” A faint smile that makes my heart pound, and then she’s on her feet.

Moving away from me, like every time. Leaving.

Sitting naked on the bed, making no move to dress, I watch her gather her things and prepare to go. I don’t ask her if I’ll see her again.

Christ. I shouldn’t. I really fucking shouldn’t. Shouldn’t go after her, ask her to stay.

Please, Pax. Please stay. I rub my hands over my face, press the heels of my palms into my eyes. What’s happening to me?

Chapter Eleven

Paxtyn

Riot tied to the bed. Naked. Head thrown back, long lashes hiding his eyes, his body trembling. Lost in pleasure.

Oh God.

I stroke my forefinger over my lips. His mouth tasted dark and hot, a little bitter, like rosemary and nicotine. Such a male taste. Just the memory of it makes my skin warm and my insides clench.

“Let me touch you, Pax. I want to pleasure you. It’s what I’m here for.”

Shit. I can imagine the feel of his large hands on my body. I remember it from our first terrible meeting.

I want to feel them again, feel him, naked, against me. In me.