Page 55 of Hating On Riot

“Me too, baby.”

I never want to scare her. I always want her to be ready. To give me her consent. That stolen kiss took everything I cherished. Stripped me of the happiness of seeing more of her at DU. Instead, I watched a different guy take up her time and the space in her heart.

Her brothers wrecked the rest—my security, my confidence, how I saw myself. I wasn’t a man ready to love his girl for life. I was a piece of shit kid who took advantage of my girl beneath those bleachers, and their fists were my just punishment.

My brothers reamed me out, saying I shouldn’t have associated myself with Tony and Cam’s little sis. That Arie was nothing but trouble, with her wild streak and reputation for wrapping the randy neighborhood boys around her little finger. What fucking reputation? Her big bros watched her like a hawk, and when she wasn’t with them or her family, she was with me.

Someone spread those rumors, and I have an idea who. Bella.

But I caved and listened to my big bros. They had more experience with women, with matters of the heart. I looked up to them. Blood is thicker than water, and they would always be there for me while Arie abandoned me, choosing her brothers too. What happened taught me a valuable lesson. Girls come and go, but my bros have my back and will always be in my life. It’s a lame line, but we ride together, we die together.

“Riot?” My name on her lips is muffled, as if she’s speaking into a pillow. “Where is your mind going, if it’s not here with me?”

My mouth is pressed against her inner thigh. One glance to the side and I’ll be staring at her cunt.

“I’m here.” My voice is flat to my ears. It must be to hers too.

“Convince me.”

“Challenge accepted, baby.”

21

Arie

Challenge accepted, baby, said with heat and longing. His head is back in the game and my body sinks into the mattress, happy he’s back where he belongs, with me.

“Make us come, Riot. I’m ready.” I open my arms to him. Wrap them around his shoulders when he nuzzles my neck. His mouth is soft on my skin. His breath is warm. “I trust you,” I say, giving him the encouragement he needs. Something heavy weighs on his mind, and I want to lighten his mood. Or maybe darken it with desire.

I hook one leg across the back of his and lift my hips, grinding my sex along his erection. I’m wet. I ache. I like how he tasted—salty and musky—when I took him in my mouth. I want more, want to make him come in my mouth, but he wants me to trust him. Want us to come together.

He lavishes attention on my nipples through my tank top, leaving behind wet spots that turn me on more than were I naked. The dark wet spots are evidence of how much he loves sucking, nipping, and tonguing the little buds until I arch my back, begging him for more.

“You like?” He glances up from his position over my stomach.

“Too much,” I confess.

He drops kisses across my stomach. My body trembling, my hands find their way to his hair. I weave my fingers through the inky strands. His hair is so soft, like rose petals. Riot moves lower, and I close my eyes.

Rough fingers tweak my nipples. “Eyes open, baby. I want you to see what I do to you. What you do to me.”

His words. Oh, God, his words.

Eyes on him, my elbows propping me up, I watch him go lower until his warm breath coasts over my inner thigh, then the other. He parts my legs and presses his mouth to my sex. My arms and legs tremble. My breaths come out in spurts. My hips come off the bed. He holds me down with a muscular arm slung over them. My fingers grip his hair.

“That’s it, baby. Guide me over your sweet cunt.” He licks up my slit with the flat of his tongue. Takes the nub of sensitive nerves in his mouth. He mouths my clit. Lavishes attention on it as he did with each nipple, using his mouth, tongue, and teeth.

A wave of heat rolls over my body. My insides clench with longing. I’m burning up from how well he eats me out. He goes harder with his mouth. Devours me like he hasn’t eaten in days. I push his head away.

“Too much. It’s too much.” But I’m close. I am so freaking close. I grab his hair with both hands and move his face over my pussy. His chuckle is warm on my sex. His puff of breath curls my toes. My toes actually curled!

“Riot, my toes curled,” I tell him, a smile spanning across my face.

“Dreamy, babe. You are a dream come true.”

His lines are so cheesy, but I love them.

He laps at my arousal. My arousal coats his mouth as this sheen when he looks up. “Look between us, Tiptoe.” He spits in his hand. His hand goes low. I look between our bodies.