Page 56 of Riot

“I warned you,” he reminds me. “Now get on your knees or I’ll make you.”

I turn over, but not quickly enough, and he drags me onto my knees and yanks me back to him. His hard dick prods my ass, and before I can whimper a protest, he pushes into me.

My head falls forward, and I bite the pillow, gripping the sheets with my fists. I push back and take him deeper, both of us panting as his hands stroke my back.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Your perfect fucking ass is split around my cock. You look so fucking good like this, baby. My very own dirty whore with my cum still dripping from your pussy.”

Whimpering, I push back, taking him deeper until our bodies lock together.

He’s buried to the hilt in my ass, and he lies over my back, his mouth meeting my ear. “Scream for me again, sweetheart. Let the neighbors hear whose girl you are and how good I am to you, letting you rest before giving you what you need again.”

Shuddering below him, I turn my face, my eyes catching on the mirror to the left. He’s behind me like a dark angel, his obsessive eyes locked on me as he grips my waist and pulls from my ass before spearing back into me. The sight makes me cry out and clench around him as my clit throbs. I can’t look away, my eyes locked on him as he fucks my ass.

“Do you like that, sweetheart? Do you like watching your man claim every inch of you? Like watching me fuck you?”

I nod rapidly, moaning as I push back for more.

We look fucking good together.

He fists my hair and lifts my head. “Keep watching,” he orders, his voice thick with desire. “Keep watching me fuck you, keep watching while I fill you with my cum again. You’ll be seeing this every day for the rest of your life because I will never get enough of you.” Each word is punctuated by a hard thrust that has me screaming his name.

I lose myself in him, my eyes locked on our bodies as heat flashes through me so hard, my head feels like it will explode. My ass and pussy clench as pleasure explodes through me, and I fall into it.

I scream his name like he wanted, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps fucking me, fighting my body until his eyes meet mine in the mirror. “Mine,” he snarls as he buries himself to the hilt and fills me with his cum.

When he releases my hair, I fall forward. “Good girl,” he coos, combing his fingers through my messy locks, untangling the knots as he slowly pulls out of me. I whimper, messy and sore, and the bed dips. Moments later, a warm, soft washcloth is pressed against me, wiping my pussy and ass. I part my legs obediently, my face buried in the pillow.

I’m exhausted, and strangely, I feel like I want to cry.

When the bed dips again, I’m pulled into his arms, and he presses a gentle kiss to my head. “You did so well, sweetheart. Go back to sleep. I’ll behave for now.”

I must sleep for a few more hours when I wake from the bed moving. He has a towel wrapped around his waist, and his hair is wet from the shower. As I roll over and sit up, he drops the towel, his hard cock bouncing free.

He taps my mouth as I peer at him, sleep drifting away as my heart starts to pound in anticipation, knowing what is coming next. My thighs clench together, my sore pussy throbbing despite it all. Early morning light streams in through the windows, hitting his face. “I want this for my breakfast.” He smirks. “Open up, beautiful, and let me feed you.”

I open my mouth despite my usual reservations, and his hand slides through my hair to grip my neck and tug me closer. I go willingly, placing my hands on his thighs as my tongue darts out and traces his leaking tip. He tastes like mint and male, and I hum, licking him more until his hand tightens on my neck, and his other forces my jaw wider with his thumb. He pushes inside my mouth, and I almost smirk as I push farther down his length despite his resistance.

I keep moving forward until he’s all the way in the back of my throat. I hold him there, my eyes on his as he groans, and then I slowly lift my head and slide back down. I bob on his cock as saliva drips down my chin and chest, but I don’t care. I make it sloppy and messy, taking him all the way in every time until his hips roll in wild, deep thrusts. His dark eyes burn with love and desire as he watches me, his abs clenching with his movements.

“You’re going to kill me, Fallon. I know it, but I’ll die a happy man. You were made to be loved, made to be fucked like this by me. Look at you, so goddamn strong and beautiful. No one else gets to see you like this. Just me.” His hand tightens as his hips speed up, and I have to hold on. I breathe through my nose as he claims my mouth. I know my throat will be sore later, but I don’t care.

He snarls, moving faster, and finally, he bellows. His hips stutter as he pushes down my throat and unloads, forcing it so deep I don’t even have to swallow, and when he falls back, dragging his cum along my tongue, I lick and swallow deeply.

“I love you, Fallon.” He leans down to kiss me before he releases his hold on me, and I collapse back to the bed. Once again, I fall into an exhausted sleep as he wraps his arms around me.

“Sleep, my love,” he whispers, and his words follow me into my dreams.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Iwake up before Kage. Peering down at his soft, sleeping face, I can’t help but smile. I kiss his cheek tenderly, and he sighs, reaching for me. When I move away, his lips tug down in a frown. Grabbing a pillow, I place it where I was and watch as he curls around it. I shake my head as I slip from his bed, silently leave his house, and head home. I did leave a note though, but honestly, I know he’ll just stalk me when he wakes. The thought shouldn’t make me smile, but it does.

I can’t let him though. I refuse to be someone whose life changes because of a man. I am Fallon and will always be. Dressing comfortably in loose pants and a cropped shirt, I shove on a jacket and shades and pick one of my cars at random, and then I drive to the studio, since I’m recording today.

They are ready for me when I arrive, and I head straight to my studio. Everyone knows how I work, and it’s like clockwork. That’s what happens when you’ve been in the industry this long. I trust my producer with my music, a friendly girl named Merry. In another life, we might have even been friends, but we both know I keep her at arm’s length like I do everyone else. She gets this part of my life—the music and recognition—but she doesn’t get the personal side of me—only my friends do. Staring at her now, I wonder why I did that.

“You changed your hair,” I murmur.

She blinks, turning to me in shock. “Um, yes. Thanks for noticing.”

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