Page 105 of Riordan's Revenge

Hours later,Cassie and I snuck away, this time for good. We travelled up to her seventh-floor apartment. Showered. Fucked on the living room floor in front of the big arched window that overlooked the city. Wrapped around each other in her borrowed bed.

I lay there until dawn pierced the darkness.

We had no curtains, so the light in the room turned the blackness pale. It fell over the sleeping Cassie in a soft veil that made my heart hurt.

I’d known her barely a month. I’d been glued to her for a week. I’d fallen so carelessly I didn’t notice.

What felt like obsession was something greater. I rode that edge for sure—the craving to own her, the possessive element, the constant need—but it was tinted by a desire for her to be happy.

The like I’d allowed myself to feel was giving way to more. I was falling in love.

I was so, so fucked.

Exhaling, I slowly pulled the blanket off us, revealing her body to me. She’d stolen my skeleton crew t-shirt to sleep in again, and the hem crept up her hip to reveal the line of her underwear.

Reaching out, I guided her carefully to her back.

Her head lolled, sleep keeping her in its grip. Cassie had a killer body. Slender legs, a soft belly, perfect tits.

I needed to see them.

My pulse quickened, and inch by inch, I rucked up the shirt until it was over her collarbones and her tits were mine to stare at. An idea came to me, driven by my eager dick that was awake and gunning to get into the game.

How far could I push this? Cassie slept like she did everything else—with devoted commitment. But would she stay under if I had my mouth on her? My fingers?

If I fucked her?

I knelt on the mattress and lowered my head to press a kiss to her ribs. Another to the underside of the curve of the nearest breast. I reached her nipple. Blew on it. It hardened. Unable to resist, I enclosed the taut bud in my lips and sucked. Her breathing stayed steady, so I moved to the other side, curling my tongue around her then sucking.

I snaked a hand into my boxers, giving myself a squeeze.

Loving on Cassie would drain me dry, and I’d go back for more.

With her nipples both rigid, I sat back. Drew my gaze down. I needed to know if she had become as turned on as me, but there was the small question of her underwear in the way.

Tearing it off her risked waking her, and I was having too much fun, so I climbed from the bed and padded to my jeans, finding the folded blade Arran had gifted me tonight as part of my initiation. At the bedside, I drew Cassie’s legs out to give myself space between her thighs, then settled carefully back on the mattress.

My skeleton crew status meant I needed to get handy with a knife. I flicked out the blade, the vicious edge shining in the low light, then eased it under the line of Cassie’s underwear at her hip. The material split silently. I did the same the other side, my breath catching as I discarded the scrap of material and the weapon and got a view of her cunt.

Just like the knife’s edge gleamed, so did she. I’d made her wet while she wasn’t even conscious to know it.

My quiet, “Fuck,” came out on a breath, and I lowered my face to inhale her scent then touch my tongue to her centre. Her taste spilled through my mouth, fucking incredible.

I moved in and drove my tongue into her, pulling back to check her serene, angelic expression. A small line formed on her forehead, but otherwise, she stayed out of it.

I needed more. I needed a better angle.

Back on my feet, I took my time over shifting her again, this time to bring her to the edge of the mattress. Then I knelt, face on with her pussy, and carefully arranged a leg over my shoulders, the other out on the bed.

I blew on her first, testing if she’d awaken. When she didn’t, I slid my tongue inside her then suckled her clit until her body tensed and her thighs tightened around me. Only then did I force myself to slow. Christ, if she could come while asleep, I needed it to be on my dick.

I still needed to play, though. Stroking my dick, I teased her, sucked and finger-fucked her to the edge then backed away. Each time, listening out for her signs to indicate when to stop.

Awake, she’d be spitting bullets at me by now. But my woman slept on, giving me all the time in the world to enjoy her.

Like with tying her up, I had all the control. It was a rush. A thrill. There was no chance of her leaving me. Of that cute face turning away, or those bright eyes dimming as she focused on me to say it had happened. She’d fallen out of love with me.

I’d rehearsed it in my head. She’d apologise. Hug me. Smile. Then take off on her next adventure. She’d destroy me, and she’d never know because I wouldn’t tell her.

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