Vipers and Virtuosos (Monsters & Muses, #2)(89)

She licks her lips, tilting her head as she seems to consider this.

“Your turn.”

Throwing her head back, she groans, as if in pain. Then, shifting her hips, she reaches behind her and grabs my cock, wrapping her tiny fingers around it. It twitches, heavy in her palm, and I let out a soft curse as she pumps up and down, just the way I’ve shown her.

“Riley.”

“Yes, sir?” She lifts onto her knees, slowly dragging the head along her slick core, teasing me with her slit before bringing it up to grind against her clit. Her mouth falls open, and mine forgets how to formulate words, euphoria ricocheting through my veins as she takes control.

“Do you think you’re going to make me forget my question?”

Shaking her head, she flutters her eyelashes dramatically, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth as she drops my cock and rocks forward on it.

“Sir, are you accusing me of trying to distract you?” I grab the sheets, squeezing my eyes shut as I try not to lose myself to the way her silken flesh feels on mine.

But it’s a lost fucking cause.

I’m a lost cause when it comes to her.

“Call me sir again.” My words come out quickly, almost garbled. Breathy and desperate, I reach for her hips, lifting her enough that she can line up with my cock. “Put me inside you and call me sir when you do it.”

“Kinky.” She giggles, but the smile wipes off her face when she sinks down on me. Our sighs morph into one as she works it in, her fingernails digging into my chest as her ass comes to rest on the tops of my thighs. “God, I think you get bigger every time, sir.”

“Fuck.” My back arches, pleasure tingling down my spine, lighting my nerve endings on fire. “You’re a filthy girl, aren’t you?”

“Yours,” she answers, breathless, starting to move her hips. Sliding her hands up my chest, she splays her fingers at the base of my throat. Not quite holding, but not quite resting, either.

It’s an act of possession, I realize, staring into her hypnotic gaze. A reinforcement of sorts, as if she’s testing the water, trying to gauge my reaction to her soft claim.

She picks up the pace as our gazes remain locked, her tiny whimpers spurring me on from below. I meet each roll of her hips with an upward thrust of my own, letting her work out any soreness from last night, and then I wrap an arm around her waist and flip her onto her back.

Gripping her thighs, I spread her legs as wide as they’ll go, pressing her knees into her shoulders as I plunge my cock back in.

Tight, wet heat surrounds me, and each hiccuped breath I wrench from her lungs has me spiraling more and more out of control.

“Hold your knees so I can fuck you deep,” I say. She does, keeping herself open so I can cover her mouth with my hand the way both of us like. “Goddamn, pretty girl, you feel amazing. Such a perfect angel for me.”

Sweat coats our skin and the bed rocks into the wall, and then it’s all wet flesh slapping against flesh, primal groans and grunts filling the air.

I bend down, pressing my forehead against her as she preens, her screams vibrating against my fingers, her cunt spasming in a vise grip around my cock.

“Mine. My filthy girl,” I grunt, pushing in one final time as I unload spurt after spurt inside her. I come so hard that I black out, feeling ten thousand pounds lighter when I return to earth.

She’s still fluttering, her pussy pulsing; I can feel my cum leak out, but I don’t withdraw or make a move to clean it up this time. I stay lodged inside her, half hard as my head drops to her bare shoulder.

“Merry Christmas,” she murmurs after a few minutes, raking her hands through my hair. “I didn’t think I’d be spending the holidays with my stalker, but I suppose stranger things have happened.”

“You stalked me first, of your own admission.”

My arm reaches out to the nightstand, yanking the top drawer open and pulling out a white paper bag.

“I got you something.”

“Oh.”

I roll off her, both of us wincing as I disconnect our bodies.

She takes the bag, then frowns at me as my fingers drift between her thighs, spreading our juices over her swollen lips. “Hey. Talk about a distraction.”

I smirk. “Just open it.”

“But I didn’t get you anything. You can’t give me orgasms and presents when I don't have anything for you in return.”

“All I want is you, Riley.”

Her eyes widen, and I think they must reflect mine, because I certainly hadn’t planned on those words coming out of my mouth. But once they’re out there, I can’t take them back.

Worse, I realize as I watch her peel the bag open, my stomach buzzing with anticipation, I don’t even want to.

Fuck me, what has this girl done?

“Uh… is this..?” Pulling the contents out, she shoves the bread against her nose, and squeals. “Oh, my god, it is! An authentic New York City bagel.”

“Strawberry, even.”

She tears into it, tossing the bag onto the floor, and moans around the bite. “God, it’s as good as I remember. How did you—”

A door slamming downstairs cuts her sentence off, and her entire body locks up tight. The bagel falls into her lap, and she scrambles to pull the sheet up over her breasts, fear flooding her eyes.