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RHAIM

L ia came hard for her first orgasm, but the second one she fought to keep and made me coax from her. I enjoyed feeling her struggle not to give me what I wanted, listening to her moan and whine, trying to keep me from what was mine.

“You know you’re only punishing yourself,” I told her, two fingers still shoved inside her, standing up. “We both know you could’ve come five times already.”

“Fuck you, Rhaim,” she said, looking up at me with a pout.

Christ, her pouts would be the end of me.

“No, little girl. It’s time for you to get fucked,” I said, and started unbuckling my belt with my free hand.

Her eyes darted to the motion, and then back to my face, as I watched her hunger flush her.

“Yeah?” I asked, taunting her, pulling my fingers out to lick, well aware that I was becoming a frightening mess and utterly not giving a shit. “You want that?” I asked, finally free.

It was obvious what I wanted. I grabbed hold of her thighs and pulled her to the edge of the counter, before taking myself in hand.

She rose up on her elbows to watch me, her breasts spilling out of the top of her dress— breasts I still hadn’t kissed yet —which was what decided things for me.

I pulled her even further forward, and down, landing her on me, as I fell back into one of the high-backed bar chairs, making her cunt sheathe me at once.

I let out a guttural groan as she fussed, trying, and failing, to keep her heels’ traction on the chair’s metal cross bars below, making a whining noise.

“Too-deep-too-deep,” she complained, wincing, and I rocked back as I lifted her, to give her more of my lap to land on, and she panted on top of me, like she’d just swam ashore.

“You okay?” I asked her, brushing my lips against her hair.

I felt her soft snort. “Do you really want the answer to that?” she asked me.

“Yeah, little girl,” I said, nuzzling her harder, so that strands of her hair caught in my stubble. “Always.”

She didn’t answer me with words though. She just started crying. I wrapped my arms around her and slowly rocked the chair from side to side with a heel. There wasn’t anything I could say in the moment that was going to make anything better, except for, “I’m sorry, Lia.”

I wasn’t sure just what I was apologizing for in the moment, seeing as there was an entire roster of possibilities—wanting to fuck her too badly, the fact that I didn’t tell her about Senator St. Clair, or perhaps the whole Romeo and Juliet bullshit we were now trapped in, until I managed to figure out a way through.

She sobbed—and I let go of her with one arm, to take her scarred wrist from where it clung to the chair back behind me, and bring it to my lips to kiss.

That made her still and look up at me. “Don’t eat my moth,” she said, referencing her delicate tattoo.

“I’ll eat any part of you I want, any time I want,” I teased, brushing the backs of my fingers against her wet cheek. “If I haven’t made that clear already.”

Her gaze quickly traveled over my face. “You still look like a monster.”

“Because I am, Lia. Your monster. Who—if I’m being honest—really needs to finish fucking you. Although if you’re too sore to continue, I will consider both of us retreating to the couch, as long as I can jerk myself off with my head in your lap while you feed me your nipples like grapes.”

Her eyes searched mine again, and then she placed her hands on either side of my face, to give me an intense stare. “Do you love me?” she asked. “Because that’s the only way I can survive any of this, Rhaim—is if I know.