Page 43 of Riot's Thorn
“I don’t think I am.” I press open-mouthed kisses down her neck and across her chest, earning me a breathy moan. “Tell me what you want.”
“Please.” She lifts her chin, giving me better access while also giving me the green light. It’s not enough, though. I need to hear it.
“Tell me,” I growl out. “Tell me you want to be my little slut. Beg for it.”
Nothing in my entire wretched existence has marked me as a more colossal bastard than luring this innocent virgin into my realm of depravity. Yet, I can’t bring myself to care.
“What? No. I won’t?—”
“You will. Let go of all that perfection. It’s just you and me; no one else is here. No one can see what a desperate whore you are, begging for my attention.” I drag my tongue down her neck with deliberate slowness, savoring the moment before I sink my teeth into her shoulder. Her skin tastes like forbidden sweetness, an intoxicating blend of innocence and sunshine that stirs a primal urge within me to bury it under my dark fuckery so no one else can experience it.
There’s no use in masking who I am or what I crave from her because, eventually, she’ll know my every twisted kink. And if I’m not mistaken, there’s a hidden darkness within her too, just waiting to be awakened. The erotic paintings on her bedroom walls prove she isn’t as vanilla as she presents herself to be.
“I’m not a whore.”
“No, you’re not. But you’ll be one for me, won’t you?” I hover my lips over hers. “All you have to do is say it. Say you want to be my perfect little slut, and I’ll lay you out and bury my face between your legs. I’ll eat you so good, baby. I just need to hear the words.”
Her heart pounds, and her breaths are coming so fast, you’d think she just ran a marathon. She wants this, but she’s never had to give up control. I would guess that’s why she’s still a virgin.
I stand there, waiting with a patience that feels infinite because deep down, I already know what her answer will be. We’re inevitable. There’s a reason I spared her life after taking her father’s, despite never before allowing a witness to live. Atthe time, the reason eluded me, a mysterious impulse I couldn’t name. But now, clarity has taken over. Because even though I pride myself on cold logic, dismissing the notion of soul mates as nonsense, there’s an undeniable force tethering us, something fierce and inexplicable that defies reason.
“I want to be your. . . .” Her lips hold my attention, wanting to see the way they form each word.
“My what?”
“Your. . . little slut.”
Her tongue clicks on the “T,” and then I’m lifting her by the back of her thighs, encouraging her legs to wrap around my waist, and my lips are on hers. She follows my lead like the good girl she is, wrapping her arms around my neck to hold on.
I bring her into the bedroom before lowering her to my bed. She sets the ring on the nightstand, which pisses me off, but I tamp it down. A piece of jewelry doesn’t make her any less mine.
Her nervous energy is palpable, charging the atmosphere with an electric tension that fuels my longing for her. I remind myself of her inexperience and consciously slow down. We have plenty of time to explore her deeper desires and guide her to become my perfect plaything, but for now, I need to give her what she needs and make her first time a memorable experience.
“You’re so fuckin’ pretty.” I stand on the side of the bed between her legs that dangle off the edge. Going slow, I pop the button of her jean shorts and drag them down her legs, revealing those damn black panties I knew would be sexy as fuck.
I lift each of her legs up, resting her feet on the mattress before pushing her knees to the side, opening her up to me. Goosebumps spread across her skin, and her chest heaves. Seeing this beautiful woman’s reaction to my touch is a heady feeling.
“Oh, god.” She gasps as I hook a finger into the cotton fabric covering her pussy and pull it to the side.
I hum at the cream coating her outer lips. “I knew you were perfect.”
Releasing the fabric, it snaps back into place, and Parker startles. She’s terrified of what I might do to her, and fuck, that is intoxicating. Nothing has ever been better. I plant my knees on the mattress between her spread legs and lift up on the hem of her shirt. She helps me remove it, and thank Christ, she’s not wearing one of the sports bras I stole from her room.
I need to make another trip to her apartment for some of her lingerie. Assuming her roommates haven’t packed her shit up yet. Even if they have, the internet exists for a reason, and I can’t think of one more important than making sure I have something to look forward to each time I undress her.
I pull down on the black lace cups of the bra and flip the underwire to prop her tits up. She has the most perfect pair I’ve ever seen: plump and soft, way more than a handful, with dusky nipples drawn into tight little buds, ripe for the taking.
Pulling back, I take in my prey. “Look at you, spread out like a buffet for me. I don’t know where to start.”
“Please,” she begs, not even knowing what she’s asking for.
“Shh, baby, I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry, I’ll make it so good.” I lean over and kiss her long and deep, parting her lips with my tongue so I can taste her mouth. Her shy tongue darts away from mine, and I smile. “Uh-uh, none of that. Stick out your tongue.”
“What? Why?”
I pinch her cheeks, not hard, just enough to bring her attention back to me. “Because I told you to, and good little sluts do as they’re told.”
Her cheeks heat in embarrassment and irritation. Oh, this is going to be so much fun. Slowly, her pink tongue slips past her lips, and I dip down, sucking it into my mouth as I release her face, moving my hand down to the base of her throat.
