Page 60 of Riordan's Revenge

I scooted to the pillows. My heart raced like his bike’s engine. He could do anything to me right now and I would let him.

Riordan knelt over me, still in his leather jacket. He gazed down at my breasts then stole one hand under my back, unclasping my bra. He swallowed and pulled it free from my arms, capturing both wrists as he came up.

In rapture, I stretched out my arms above my head, hooked on everything he was doing. I’d been almost naked in my bathroom in front of him. This was a step on. Something was going to happen.

I wanted him to look at me. To see me and want me.

From his tented jeans, he was already there.

Riordan dragged his gaze from my body to my outstretched hands. He placed them against the wrought-iron headboard, a fancy design used as a backdrop by the women who filmed themselves in front of cameras. I held them there, closing my eyes for a beat to let the sense of overwhelm wash over me.

This was it. Even though I’d pissed him off, it was still happening.

He was going to fuck me, and I was going to love it.

Movement at my hands had me springing my eyes open. Riordan tied off my bra. It was tangled around my wrists then secured to the headboard.

For fuck’s sake. He’d tied me up again. Fine. Maybe I deserved that.

I struggled against the constraint, trying not to get annoyed.

He tested the knot then sat back. “Remind me of the rules for our time together.”

His voice was a gravel pit.

I growled. “Ten days and nights. We sleep together, eat together, revenge together, and have sex every day. You’re mine and I’m yours.”

“That’s what you want, for me to fuck you now? Take the virginity you were ready to throw away.”

Wriggling my shoulders, I managed a nod.

He held my gaze then stripped his jacket, tossed it to the floor, and climbed off me. His skeleton crew t-shirt went next, giving me hard muscles and inkwork to stare at. Then the rest of his clothes followed, one by one in a slow, deliberate tease. His boxers were last, and he shoved those down, his rigid, thick dick swinging up.

Holy hell. Naked Riordan was a sight I’d never get over, but it was his dick that caught and held my attention. That was going to be inside me. I swallowed. My pussy pulsed in anticipation.

Riordan grasped my knee and crawled onto the bed, settling between my legs. For a moment, the cold exterior he’d assumed shook. Real emotion flashed in his eyes. Desperate need and a dozen others I couldn’t name.

He masked it. Drove his fingers up my thigh until he reached my underwear.

“Sure you want this?”

“Please.”

He hooked it aside then palmed his dick and took it to the juncture of my legs, running it up and down my soaking wet centre, his gaze avid but his chest rising and falling. Confusion broke over me. I’d expected to be kissed. To be built up. For us to play first and full sex to be a natural end to it.

Then again, I’d made him angry.

Holding my gaze, Riordan lifted my backside and at the same time, thrust inside me.

Fuck. I opened my mouth on a gasp, jerking to loosen my hands so I could take them to where he speared into me. But I couldn’t free myself. He’d tied me up too well.

With another jerk of his hips, he embedded himself deeper, then again and again until his body was flush against mine. That huge dick was inside me.

Cold panic mixed with strange pleasure.

I throbbed. Desire spread out from every place he touched me inside.

God, this was better than my vibrator.

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