Vipers and Virtuosos (Monsters & Muses, #2)(77)
His words, tiny gasps, and moans of praise feel like sunshine soaking into my skin, but it’s his eyes that I pay attention to. The way they vacillate over every inch of me, blazing a path from where we’re connected up to where his hand keeps me mute.
They’re intense storms raining down on me, elation sparking like a match that doesn’t stop raging.
It’s exhilarating, being trapped beneath his hungry gaze and letting it wash over me. Knowing he’s breaking apart for me, even though not long ago he wanted to ruin me.
My fingers tingle as I reach up, tracing the lines of his tattoos, trying my best to memorize them in case this is the last time I get to see them. He bucks, canting his hips so hard that his balls slap against the crack of my ass, and I can feel us inching up the rug.
It feels so good that I’m starting to see stars, black creeping in at the edges of my vision. My pulse kicks rapidly, blood rushing between my ears, and with each thrust, an animalistic sound wrenches itself from the back of my throat.
Eyes wide, I keep them trained on him, refusing to look away as release unspools in my stomach, tendrils of euphoria reaching through and wrapping around me.
I need it, I need it, I need it.
As it crawls up the base of my spine, I’m so distracted by the heat that I don’t notice my robe falling open, baring every part of me but my arms to Aiden. He drinks me in, fucking faster, the muscles in his jaw clenched so tight I can practically see the indent of his teeth.
Tears prickle behind my eyes as my orgasm crests, and he lets out a sound that echoes in my chest. “You ready for me to fill you up?”
I try to nod, something caught between a sob and a squeal scratching out of my throat, vibrating against my skin. The tears fall over as my climax reaches its crescendo, exhilaration thundering through me and making me shake.
My legs come around him, heels digging into his ass, spurring his movements as he fucks me through the bliss.
His hips jerk, his pace stuttering in time with the beat of my heart, and then he shoves in so he’s flush with my skin. A torrent of hot, thick cum pulses inside of me, and the low groan he gives is desperate and gravelly, sending a shiver down my legs.
“Fuck.” Aiden sits back on his knees, chest heaving as he catches his breath. Sliding his hand slowly from my mouth, he runs his thumb in a soothing gesture over my lips, as if he’s trying to bring the feeling back. “You okay?”
Nodding is all I can manage, my mind too gooey and sated to form coherent thoughts, much less vocalize them.
With a grin, he bends and presses a searing kiss to my mouth, letting his tongue lick lazily at the interior, like he’s memorizing it.
Pulling back, he sighs, his hands never leaving my body. Like he can’t possibly stand not to touch me, even for a second.
“We should get you cleaned up,” he says, and I feel his fingers swipe through where our cum drips from my core.
Shaking my head, I moan in protest, exhaustion suddenly bearing down on me. “Not yet. Want to sleep.”
“Fine, just for a second.” He glides down my body, and I feel him pause for a second at my hip. I know he’s looking at the scar, but he drags his finger over the tiny tattoo there, as if trying to pretend otherwise.
Or maybe he’s reiterating how little he cares about the imperfections.
Whatever the case, my body tenses, but I’m too limp to do anything else. And then he keeps moving, shouldering his way between my legs, cradling my ass in his palms and lifting it off the floor.
I glance at him, my eyes bulging; his breath skates across my clit, making it throb painfully as he lines his mouth up. “What are you doing?”
One lick along my seam has my head dropping to the floor, aftershocks rolling through me.
“Cleaning up,” he says, before sealing his mouth to me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
37
Riley passes out almost immediately after my tongue brings her to the brink for the third time. Her thighs quake, tightening around my ears as she comes, drenching my chin in our combined juices.
By the time I’ve disentangled myself and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, she’s out cold, a light snore drifting from her parted lips.
Her face is red, mouth swollen, resembling the crescent shape of her cunt. After taking a quick piss, I grab a warm washcloth from the powder room and bring it back to the living area, settling it gently between her legs to try and soothe her abused flesh.
I won’t lie and say I don’t love the color on her. Red looks fucking good when it’s painting her skin because of me.
Pulling my knees to my chest and draping my forearms over them, I sit at her side for a long time. The heat from the fireplace envelops us, calming the chill in the air that flares when I’m not touching her.
I’m not sure what that’s about, but for now, I ignore it, positive that I don’t want to know.
I don’t feel like sullying this night with the bite of reality.
Speaking of…
My gaze falls to where her robe gapes, pooling on the floor under her. The flames cast her in shadows, barely giving visibility to her hip, but I look anyway, needing to see for myself.
A pinkish-white, angry abrasion stretches from the outside of her left hip and fades on the way to her belly button. It’s risen slightly compared to the unmarred skin, smooth to the touch but rough at the same time and two fingers thick at its widest point.