Luck of the Devil (Ravens Ruin MC 2)

His filthy words, more than anything else, are my undoing.

“Jesus,” he purrs against my quivering flesh as my body sucks at the digit still buried inside. “Can you handle more?”

He doesn’t give me time to respond as he pulls his finger free only to delve back in with two. Pushing past sensitive tissue and clenching muscles, he spreads his fingers, opening me, preparing me for his invasion. We both know he’d have to shove more than two fingers in there to fully prepare me, but I’m devious, knowing the imminent bite of pain is going to make me come quicker than anything else.

I don’t question the perverse need, and I don’t confess that my nervousness earlier was more about liking it than being afraid.

“I need you,” I husk out on a moan when he tries to press three fingers into me.

“I can’t fuck you.” His mouth pulls away from me, and I’m revved up enough to punch him in the eye if he stops this now.

“You have to.”

“I’ll come. I’m so close already.”

“Fuck my mouth before you fuck my pussy.” I don’t have to worry about the recharge. It hasn’t been an issue since that first day I wrapped my mouth around him.

“You’re perfect,” he praises, shoving his sweats down as he knee-walks toward me.

“Shirt too.”

It’s off in a flash, and the straining head of his cock is pressing against my lips. I want to tease him, to make him beg, but the second he pushes past my lips his fingers dive back inside of me, and I’m lost. Voracious is the only way to describe how I’m feasting on him. The soundtrack of need fills the air. The melody of sucking, groaning, and filthy praise coming from Briar heats me up even more. Sloppily, I lick him, teasing his slit with enthusiasm because I know how close he is. We’re two trains on the same track about to collide. His cock jerks against my tongue just as my core clenches in fevered relief.

“Molly.” My name is a slow hiss on his lips.

He’s not as boneless as I am after coming twice. He’s primal, animalistic even when he covers my body with his.

“Are you ready—?”

He’s inside of me, breaking me apart and putting me back together before I can respond. He was right when he called me out on my lie about wanting to go slow. Slow isn’t for us. The thought of languid strokes does nothing for me. The deep, fluid thrusts he’s punishing me with right now are my reward.

“I’ve waited so long for this.” My eyes flutter, mouth agape with the inability to form sounds. “You’re so fucking tight. So pure. An innocent little girl letting me defile you like this, hurt you like this.”

“More,” I pant.

“Don’t move,” he hisses when I try to roll my hips. I hear rather than see his hands clench into fists near my ears. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He presses harder, immersing himself into me farther than I ever thought possible. The pain is euphoric, a devious splash that’s quickly conquered by deep-rooted need.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His brow scrunches, but he never takes his eyes off of me, never pulls his arms from where they’re wrapped around my back and over the tops of my shoulder. “Come. Please come.”

The quaver in his voice, the unadulterated demand forces my body to obey. I can’t decipher my orgasm from his as we both jerk with release. Unexplained tears sting my eyes as his harsh breaths against my lips deprive me of clean oxygen. I love every second of it. The rough teasing, the prepping, the stinging invasion. Every damn second. I couldn’t ask for a more perfect first time.

I don’t even bother to hide my wince when he pulls free of me.

“Did I hurt you?”

I huff a laugh at the ridiculous question. Of course, he hurt me, and I revel in the knowledge that it’ll hurt again the next time he shoves himself inside of me. He’s a lot to get used to.

“It was perfect.”

“I came inside of you.”

“You want to nut on my face next time?” I turn toward him, tucking myself under his arm. “It’s not on the top of my list, but I’ll let you if that’s what you want.”

“I can’t get you pregnant.”

I stiffen at his words, but the longer I think about it, the more acceptable that outcome seems.

“I can hear your wheels turning,” he mutters, muscles on his stomach jumping under my trailing fingers. “Your brothers may be okay with us together right now, but Lynch would string me up if I got you pregnant at eighteen.”

Before I can argue about my life and my choices a loud boom echoes just outside of the door.

Briar is off the bed, gun in hand, and crossing the room before I can blink.