Page 28 of The Night Runs Red

At that moment, Rion had given me the greatest gift, and I hated how it made me feel. It gave me a taste of something I didn’t know if I would ever have again.

“Do you want me?” I asked him, tugging roughly at his cock. His deep growl sent tendrils of pleasure rolling through me, but I didn’t relent. “Answer me, Rion. Do. You. Want. Me?” I used his words against him, reveling in how his eyes flashed.

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I fucking want you.” Without warning, he picked me up, carrying me to my bed. I let out a small gasp as I fell, landing amidst the plush bedding. He stood over me, chest bare and pants unzipped. Somehow, he looked even more enticing than before because I knew I had been the one to dismantle his perfect appearance.

Rion began to crawl onto the bed, and I shuddered at the desire in his gaze. The full force of it weighed on me, making me yearn for his touch. He tugged himself free and positioned the head of his cock at my entrance while I lay open for him, waiting for my ruination.

But the moment was fleeting as a knock sounded on my door—a soft feminine voice following quickly. “Rion?” We both froze. “Are you in there?”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I pushed at Rion’s chest, scrambling away as fast as possible to escape him while he sat back on his knees. His gaze was fixed on the spot I had occupied—the dip my body had left behind in the bedding.

I clutched at my robe, covering myself. “Who is that?” I hissed, pointing at the door. He didn’t look at me, nor did he need to.

His silence told me everything I needed to know.

As another knock sounded, Rion pushed off the bed and grabbed his shirt from near the dresser. I could still feel the hard planes of his chest, the rigidness of his cock, and the desperation of his lips as I watched him leave. But where those had given small surges of pleasure before, they now settled at the bottom of my stomach to remain an agonizing reminder of what could have been.

“Ri—” the voice called, but was interrupted as Rion ripped open the door and grasped her upper arm. She looked past him, eyes flashing with something I couldn’t quite place as I still held my robe shut.

He said nothing as he left, leaving me in silence. I ran to the door, unable to stop myself from pressing an ear to the wood to listen to their departure.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped.

“I have been waiting in your room for over an hour. It is not like you to be late—”

“So, you thought knocking on my wife’s door would be a good idea?” There was something venomous in the way he asked his question.

The woman laughed, sending chills down my spine. “It isn’t as though your relationship with her is real.”

She yelped, not from pain but surprise. “Allow me to make myself clear. Never go near her room again. Do not look at her. Do not talk to her. Do not breathe the same air as her.” After a pause, he continued in a low voice. I almost didn’t hear his words. “She is far better than you and I.”

* * *

The sun peeked through the curtains, casting a muted glow across the room. I felt even more exhausted than I had in the hospital. Given that I’d spent most of the night tossing, turning, cursing the gods, and crying, I wasn’t entirely surprised.

I’d been at war with my mind since Rion had left. One moment, I was berating myself for believing he might’ve wanted me, and the other was spent remembering the awful color of the prison jumpsuits I’d wear if I was found guilty of his murder.

I’d always struggled with my self-worth, but until now, I thought I’d gotten a handle on those disturbing thoughts. I’d watched women tear themselves apart over their insecurities, myself included. Something about Rion’s blasé demeanor had me questioning everything. From the moment I saw him, I knew he’d be the one to turn my world upside and shatter the ground beneath my feet.

I didn’t want to be a woman drooling over a man who’d never want her, but dammit, his tongue had felt good against my skin. I’d been so angry last night that I hadn’t felt the ache he had left behind until now.

I slid a hand underneath my t-shirt, groping my breast roughly to mirror how he’d been with me last night, while the other trailed down my soft tummy to rest between my thighs. I ached for Rion, hating how much he made me want him as I soaked through the fabric of my panties.

Gods, it felt good, but it wasn’t enough. Even as I circled my clit, I wanted more. I wanted rough, calloused fingers caressing my skin—for them to part my flesh and dig inside me, forcing me to give up my release. To know that he craved my pleasure as much as I craved experiencing it. And at the peak of it all, he would spear me with his molten gaze, and that would be the last thing I saw as I crested the wave of my orgasm and rode it out.

I ground against my hand shamelessly, working myself into a frenzy until a slight sheen of sweat beaded my brow. I couldn’t hold back the small whimpers, letting them fill the room and break the silence.

What would Rion say if he walked in to find me like this? Would he turn his back and leave, or would he stay and finish what he started? Because all of this was his fault. He’d stormed into my room. He’d kissed me. He’d left me wanton and needy. And now I had to take matters into my own hands, chasing a euphoria I knew would feel nothing like having him hard and pulsing inside me.

With a final cry, I lost myself. My back arched off the bed, legs trapping my hand between my thighs as I rode out the last wave. I was panting, unsure if I’d done the right thing, but knowing I wouldn’t have made a different choice if I was given the option.

No, I wanted that pleasure, even if it came with pain.

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