Page 108 of Hymns of the Broken

His hands slide up my bare waist, lustful and greedy all at once. His eyes blaze as they roam over me, his thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts like he’s committing the curve to memory.

Riot’s jaw flexes hard, his eyes going wide, black with hunger. “Fuck, Sawyer,” he breathes, awe bleeding through every word. “You’re unreal. Fucking perfect.”

His mouth never leaves mine for more than a heartbeat, each kiss rough and claiming, dragging the air from my lungs. Even when his hand slips lower, sliding between my thighs, his lips still brush against mine. Fingers press into the soaked lace of my panties, slow, deliberate circles working over my clit—just enough to make me gasp, to make my hips jerk and grind against his palm like I’m starving for more.

He groans against my lips. “You feel that, baby? How fucking wet you are for me?”

“Yes, Riot,” I whimper, too far gone to pretend I’m not already unraveling. Buthedoesn’t speed up. Doesn’t give me what I want. He just keeps teasing, circling my clit through the fabric, keeping me on the edge like it’s his damn job.

His fingers keep teasing, never quite enough, the pad of his thumb dragging over the soaked fabric, driving me insane. I buck against him, needy, but he chuckles—a wicked sound that tells me he’s in no hurry.

“You think I’m gonna give you more just like that?” he whispers against my neck, lips brushing my neck, teeth scraping skin enough to make me shiver. “Nah. You’re gonna beg, baby. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me how badly you want it. Tell me what you need.”

“Please,” I breathe, rocking my hips, thighs trembling.

He tuts, grinning. “Not good enough. Look at me.”

I lift my eyes to his, andfuck—he looks wild, jaw tight, holding back but so fucking in control. Like he’s savoring every second of this. Of me.

“Beg me,” he says, slowing his fingers to a maddening crawl. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you, Sawyer.”

I squirm, frustrated. “Riot, please. I want your mouth—I want your fingers—anything.Everything.I need you.”

He groans, the sound filthy and raw, and suddenly he’s lifting me like I weigh nothing, and dropping me on the edge of the bed. He kneels in front of me like a goddamn sinner worshiping at the altar of his favorite sin.

He hooks his fingers in the sides of my underwear and drags them down slowly, like unwrapping the most dangerous gift he’s ever touched. His eyes stay locked on mine until the fabric slips past my knees, then he finally drops his gaze between my legs.

“Fuck, Sawyer,” he rasps, voice tight with need. “You’re gorgeous. Fucking perfect. I could die between your thighs and it’d be a good death.”

His hands slide up my thighs, spreading them wide, thumbs pressing into the soft skin as he drinks me in like he’s starving. “Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs. “God, I want to fucking worship you.”

I shiver, pulse pounding. “Then hurry up.”

But he just looks up, eyes glittering like he’s about to ruin me. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m going to worship you, baby. I’ve been dying to lick this cunt ever since last night in the haunted house. You won’t be able to think about anything but my mouth.”

He leans in, breath hot on my skin, lips hovering so close I can barely stand it.

“I’m fixing to burn myself into all the places you try to hide,” he murmurs, tongue flicking out to taste and tease everywhere except where I want him most.

My whole body trembles under his touch, thighs open for him, heart racing like it’s trying to punch through my chest. Riot looks up at me and gives me a look, but there’s something else behind it now—like he’s about to touch holiness and knows he’ll never be the same.

Then finally, his mouth meets me… and we both fucking moan.

Holy fuck.

It’s not a tease anymore. It’s not slow. It’s fucking starving.Helicks a long swipe up my pussy, tongue flattening, tasting every inch. Then his lips wrap around my clit, sucking hard, and my whole body jolts.

My head tips back, hands gripping the sheets, holding on for dear life as my hips jerk forward on instinct. “Oh, my God—Riot—”

He groans against me, tongue moving harder, faster, his hands keeping me open, holding me right where he wants me. I look down and see him—hat gone, blonde hair wild, eyes dark and locked on mine like he’s begging me to watch him worship.

And fuck, I do.

He licks deeper, tongue flattening then curling as he drags it up, slow and sinful. He flicks the tip over my clit again, and again, until I’m shaking and sobbing from the intensity. His fingers dig into my thighs, holding me wide open as he eats me like he’s trying to memorize me from the inside out.

“Jesus Christ,” I gasp, “don’t stop—don’t fucking stop—” I sob, nails digging into his scalp, riding every wicked, perfect move of his mouth. He groans, the vibration shooting through my core, making me see stars.

“God, you taste so fucking good,” he rasps between licks. “I want you cumming on my tongue, Sawyer. I want you fucking screaming for me.”