Riot

“It’s okay to be afraid,” he says, and I shake my head.

“No, I’m over that. I can’t be afraid anymore.”

“Pax.” He cups my face, waits until I look up. “I’m here. Right here. It’s okay.” He strokes my cheeks. “You can’t stop the fear. You can only learn to live with it. Push it to the back of your mind with everything else and be happy.”

“It’s not fear for me,” I manage to say. “It’s for you.”

“I won’t leave you. I’ll come back. You have to believe it.”

My heartbeat calms down after a moment and he brushes his lips over mine.

Then he slides his hands down my body to his lap and starts unbuckling his belt. “No more barriers,” he says, his gaze locked with mine as he unbuttons his jeans. “No secrets, nothing hidden. I swear.”

He pushes down his pants and briefs and I rise on my knees, my hands gripping his shoulders, so he can shuck them off.

Then he’s naked, bared to me, finally. He doesn’t let me lower myself, though, clasping my hip with one hand, with the other taking hold of his cock. I can’t see it, even as I strain to catch a glimpse, but I feel his movements as he strokes himself, one, two, three, four times.

“Riot…” I’ll beg if I must.

The head of his cock brushes my entrance, hot and wet, slips into me just a fraction, but it’s enough to make me tremble with desire. His hand on my hip clenches and unclenches and his breathing turns irregular and shallow.

“Damn,” he mutters, then tugs on my hip, lowering me on his cock. He pushes into me, little by little, and I feel every hard, hot inch of him filling me until I’m sitting in his lap once more. The barbell on the top of his cock presses a point deep inside of me that sends flares of pleasure up my spine. “Christ.”

Both his hands are now on my waist, fingers digging into my flesh, but I barely notice, the feel of his hard cock inside me overwhelming.

“Oh God, I need…” I wet my lips with the tip of my tongue, not sure how to explain. Deeper. Maybe it’s not even physically possible. “More.”

“Put your legs around my waist,” he says, his voice gone hoarse.

Excitement flutters in my chest as I obey, a

nd instantly he slides deeper into me. I hiss at the burning ache, and he grunts, his head falling forward. He’s so deep inside me, I can’t tell where he ends and I begin.

Then he rolls his hips and the ache transforms into sharp pleasure. I moan, impaled on him, and when he lifts me and lowers me again, I cry out, unprepared for the delicious pulses in my core.

God, I won’t last long, is my only thought as he does it again, his mouth on my shoulder, lightly biting, muffling his own moans as he makes me ride him, fast, and then faster, until I scream his name, convulsing around him, my mind filled with white light.

He muffles a cry against my skin as his cock jerks inside me, filling me with heat in long pulses. And then he holds me all night until the dawn.

***

I wake up in Riot’s arms in my bed. Can’t remember how we got here last night. I only remember talking, crying, more talking and then mind-blowing sex on my couch.

No more secrets.

A fight that could end in life or death.

I carefully extricate myself from Riot’s hold and turn around to study his face in the morning light. The swelling in his jaw has gone down, but the bruising has spread, darkening one side of his face. His dark hair falls over his eyes. He looks so young.

Too young for all that violence and pain, for a past so troubled.

I climb off the bed soundlessly and grab a house robe, then pad to the kitchen. I stand at the window, twitch the curtain aside, gaze at the buildings. It’s a bright winter day, the sun hitting the shiny façades in blinding reflections.

Fear taps icy fingers down my back, making me shiver. Learn to live with your fear. Don’t let it stop you.

Okay. But even if I trust Riot, if I believe he can make it, I don’t trust the guys who set this up and beat him up.

I don’t trust them not to rig the fight somehow to make sure he loses.