Page 9 of Riot

Unlike me, Amanda is the life of the party. She’s loud and so eager to please people, she does everything for them.

She’s life, while I’m ice.

Maybe that’s why we are friends.

I grow bored after a while, and when I’m bored, dangerous thoughts whirl in my mind. To block them off, I numb them, downing my drink as I search the crowd until I find what I’m looking for.

He’s watching me, leaning back against the bar. He’s younger than me, but not by much, and he’s either an actor or a model. I don’t care. His blond hair is swept back from his chiseled face, and his body is muscular and draped in the finest new clothes money can buy. He sips his drink, watching me make my way through the crowd until I stop before him. I see anticipation in his gaze, and also a cocky understanding that I want him.

I can work with that. He seems like the type to fuck and not call, and that’s exactly what I need right now—no attachments, just numbing pleasure.

“Hi, do you want a drink?” he starts, undoubtedly beginning his usual routine. I don’t have time for that. I can feel the spiral coming, the thoughts wrapping around me like barbed wire, their sharp edges ready to tear me apart until they taste blood.

“Leave your drink,” I tell him as I turn away, and when I glance back, he’s frowning. “Are you coming or not?”

He hurries after me as I head to my car and slips in the other side. I reel off a hotel address I know is close but also discreet, and he grins over at me. “My name is?—”

“I don’t care.” For a moment, he looks offended, so I grab his chin and pull him close enough that his eyes drop to my lips, insult forgotten as he realizes he’s about to have me. “I don’t need your name or your life story, and you don’t need mine. I plan to fuck your brains out and then leave before you wake up. You can order room service and lounge around knowing it’s paid for and you’ve been well fucked. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Not at all.” He smirks before he grips the back of my head and closes the distance, his lips crashing onto mine.

Good, this is what I need to forget.

We make it to the hotel in record time, and I head in through the back door. I have a standing room here for this. No one comes home with me. That’s my place. Here, they get me for a few hours and that’s it.

He follows eagerly, like a little puppy, and we barely make it to the room before his hands are on my body. I press mine to his muscular chest and push him through the door. He stumbles back, and I smirk, kicking it shut as I step around him and shed my dress and heels. “On the bed,” I order him.

He strips and lies down, stretching out every tan muscle for me. He really is pretty and perfect for what I need—a palate cleanser. Sliding up the bed, I lick the bobbing tip of his cock, and his head falls back with a groan, his fists gripping the white bedding.

I move farther up his body, biting his nipple as he gasps, and then I stop when I’m over him. His eyes blink open, his pretty mouth parted. Unchecked desire burns in his expression. What is it like to feel that much? I lean down to taste it on his lips and feel alive for just a moment.

“Fall—”

I cover his mouth with my hand. “I don’t need your voice, so let’s put that mouth to better use since you can’t seem to follow rules.”

Slinging my leg over his shoulders, I press my hands against the headboard and sit on his face. His hands grip my hips as he gets the point and pulls me closer. I don’t care if he doesn’t like to eat pussy. He’s eating mine.

If he wants inside me, then he has to earn it. He doesn’t get to come unless I’ve gotten to at least once. Otherwise, men are too selfish to care about my pleasure, and then what’s the point of them? I could have more fun with a dildo.

Luckily, he’s not half bad with his tongue. I ignore his slapping hands when it becomes too much and grind into his mouth. I set my own rhythm, using him until I come all over his mouth. I slip down his body, his chin and lips glistening with my release. His cock leaks for me. It’s a nice size, so I reach into the nightstand and pull out a condom, rolling it down his length as he watches me.

“Please,” he whispers.

Good boy, he learned.

He’s realized he isn’t here to use me. I’m here to use him, and he wants it.

His bronzed chest heaves as I perch on his hips, my hand working his length, and he groans for me, his back arching. I torture him a little until neither of us can stand it, then I lift my hips, press him to my entrance, and slam down on his length, impaling myself as we both cry out.

There’s no other sound apart from the slapping of our hips and heavy breathing as we fuck each other’s brains out. His hips lift to meet mine, setting a hard, fast rhythm. My hands grip my breasts, tweaking my nipples to build my pleasure before sliding down my stomach to flick my clit.

He watches me with narrowed eyes, his jaw jumping at the sight, and I feel him jerk inside me.

“Don’t you dare.” I slap his chest. “You don’t get to come until I do.”

He lifts his hands to pull my head down for a kiss, so I smack them away, pinning them with my hands as I roll my hips, riding him as he groans loudly. I close my eyes. He’s a beautiful sight stretched out below me, but I need more, and for some fucking reason, his blond hair changes to black, and his bright eyes turn dark and obsessive.

I wish I could say it was the cock inside me that gets me off, but it’s the whispered “sweetheart” in my ear that has me crying out on the model’s cock. He bellows his release, and before he’s even finished, I’m climbing off him and heading to the minibar.

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