Page 92 of Her Name in Red
His fingers curl upward, finding that spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. The dual sensations of his mouth and his fingers is almost too much to bear. I'm teetering on the edge already, my body wound tight as a spring.
“Riggs,” I gasp, one hand tangling in his hair. I don't know if I'm trying to pull him closer or push him away. My body can't decide if this pleasure is something to chase or run from.
He hums against me; the vibration sending another shock wave through my system. His fingers work faster now, his tongue relentless. There's no teasing anymore, just the single-minded focus of a man determined to take me apart.
And he does. The orgasm hits me like a freight train, my back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crash over me. I'm vaguely aware that I'm saying his name, over and over like some desperate prayer. I can't think. I can only feel.
White-hot lightning flashes behind my eyes, spreading outward through every nerve ending. My vision fractures into prisms of color—indigo, crimson, gold—colors I've never seen before, colors that don't exist in this world. My ears ring with music that isn't there.
Time stops, it stretches, loops and then shatters.
I'm floating and falling and dying and being born all at once. Every cell in my body vibrates at a frequency that threatens to tear me apart. My skin is too small to contain whatever this is. This supernova exploding inside me.
Riggs' name turns to nonsense on my tongue as the waves keep coming, relentless, merciless. I taste copper and realize I've bitten my lip. I taste salt and realize I'm crying.
This is what drowning must feel like, but I don't want air. I want to sink deeper.
My fingers dig into his scalp, my thighs trembling around his head as he works me through it, never letting up, never giving me a chance to catch my breath. The pleasure borders on pain now, but I can't tell him to stop. I don't want him to stop.
I've never felt so fucking alive.
Riggs crawls up my body, his mouth slick with me. He looks fucking wrecked—pupils blown, hair a mess from my hands, that cocky half-smile playing at his lips before he kisses me.
I taste myself on his tongue, salty and sweet. There's something possessive about it that makes my stomach flip.
His weight shifts over me as he breaks the kiss, his breath coming in ragged pants against my neck. I feel his hand slip between us, positioning himself at my entrance. He's so hard, so hot against me that I can't help but roll my hips, seeking that friction.
“Maren,” he groans, his voice strained. “Look at me.”
I do, and the raw need in his eyes nearly undoes me. He reaches for my hands, threading our fingers together like we're two halves of something finally made whole. I feel the calluses on his palms, the strength in his grip as he guides my arms above my head, pinning me to the mattress.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. The hot, hard length of him settles between my thighs, and I can feel him twitching against me, alive with want. He shifts just barely, and the tip of him presses right against my core.
Our eyes lock, his burning into mine with an intensity that makes it impossible to look away. His hands tighten around mine, our fingers fused together like we're sharing one pulse, one heartbeat. I'm pinned beneath him, but I've never felt less trapped.
When he finally pushes inside me, it's achingly slow. I feel every inch of him as he fills me, stretching me, claiming me. My breath catches in my throat as he seats himself fully inside me, the sensation so overwhelming that for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
“Fuck,” I whisper, my voice breaking on that single syllable.
He's watching my face, cataloging every reaction, every flutter of my eyelids, every parted gasp. I'm still sensitive from before, my nerve endings raw and exposed. Each drag of him inside me sends aftershocks rippling through my body.
“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs against my ear, his voice strained with restraint. “So perfect. So mine.”
“I love you,” I whisper, the words escaping before I can catch them.
Riggs freezes above me, his body going completely still. For a horrifying moment, I think I've ruined everything.
Then his eyes soften, and he presses a kiss to my temple, so gentle it almost hurts. “Say it again,” he murmurs.
“I love you,” I repeat, surprised by how easily the words come now. “I love you, and this, but—” My hands push against his chest, creating space between us. “Please fuck me like you hate me right now.”
His eyebrows shoot up, confusion flashing across his face.
“I need it,” I explain, my voice urgent. “Need us how we are. Strong, dirty, violent, and fucked up.”
Understanding dawns in his eyes, followed by something darker, hungrier. “Every nightmare needs...”
“A monster,” I finish for him, my nails digging into his shoulders. “And you're mine.”
