Page 25 of Riot’s Thorn (Sons of Erebus: Reno, NV #4)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

PARKER

A m I really doing this? Am I really going to have sex with the man who murdered my father?

That statement is enough to keep a therapist busy for years, but add in the degradation, praise, and him wanting to shave me, and I’ll be taking a grippy sock vacation for years if I ever find a way out of this mess.

If Riot has his way, I’ll be shackled to him forever, never tasting freedom again because he’s practically forced a proposal on me. My gaze darts to the nightstand where I placed Mom’s ring. It taunts me with a future more horrifying than my darkest nightmares could ever conjure.

All concepts of right or wrong, sanity or madness, evaporate as soon as he parts my sex, and before I can even process what’s happening, his mouth is on me—licking, sucking, flicking, penetrating with a ravenous intensity.

My body convulses, teetering on the edge of an explosive orgasm.

But just as the climax looms, he pulls away, leaving me dizzy with unfulfilled desire. Damn him.

“Fuck, Little Thorn, you’re so wet for me, I think my finger will slide right in.” He slowly pushes in, his eyes heavy with desire as he observes intently, committing the sensation of me to memory. “How do you think you’ll do with two?”

I swallow hard, feeling incredibly vulnerable. He remains fully dressed while I am not only bare but also positioned with my legs apart, exposing every part of me. Yet, I can’t feel embarrassed when he’s gazing at me as if I’m the sexiest sight he’s ever seen.

“Relax and let me in. My cock is a lot bigger than this, and I need to prepare your body so I can make this good for you.” His tongue dances against my clit, and I gasp, trying to surrender to the pleasure but unable to release the tension that grips my body.

As two of his thick fingers slide inside me, I gasp, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension.

It’s strangely satisfying to have something to hold onto, yet the overwhelming fullness leaves me uncertain.

“Riot,” I moan, my hands instinctually weaving in his hair. He freezes, and I wonder if he’s going to scold me again, but he stays true to his word and allows me the freedom to do whatever feels good. Holy hell, does it feel good to fist his locks and hold him where I need him.

“You taste like heaven, just like I knew you would.” He latches onto my clit and sucks, making my back bow off the mattress as I cry out, powerful tingles taking over from low in my belly. “That’s it. Come for me, just like this.”

And I do. Unfamiliar, primal sounds erupt from my mouth as an overwhelming orgasm tears through my body.

It doesn’t arrive in the soft, rolling waves I feel when I’m alone in bed; no, what he does to me is like an unstoppable tidal wave, obliterating all my senses except for touch.

It lasts for seconds or maybe hours. I wouldn’t know because I have no sense of time as I give in to the pleasure I never knew existed.

As I return to reality, my sex grows incredibly sensitive, prompting me to push him away and attempt to close my legs.

However, Riot is persistent. He keeps his expert tongue on me, wraps his strong arms around my thighs, and hikes my legs over his shoulders.

In this position, I can’t pull away, which is clearly what he intended.

“Riot, I can’t. I mean, I already came,” I say, thinking maybe he just didn’t notice.

“Give me one more.”

I squirm. “I can’t. It’s painful.”

“This isn’t pain, Little Thorn.” He reaches up my body and twists my nipple until I cry out. “That’s pain. Push past the sensitivity and give me another.”

I’m second-guessing all my choices when Riot curls his fingers and strokes something deep inside me I’m glad I stuck around for.

What is that ? My heart, which had been calming, suddenly races again with this new sensation.

Whatever he’s doing is sparking something uncontrollable within me, and since I’m pinned down at his mercy, I have no option but to let it unfold.

“Oh, fuck,” I shout out right before I lose myself completely.

Riding the edge of ecstasy, I grind myself on his face with a desperate need for more.

The world fades to black around me, and when I finally snap back to consciousness, I see Riot standing tall, his eyes dark and primal as he unbuckles his belt with deliberate intent.

If I hadn’t had the past few days to get to know this intimidating man, the fierce intensity in his gaze would send shivers down my spine. As it is, he still makes me nervous.

He shucks his T-shirt, revealing defined muscles that flex as he continues to undress.

His body is a work of art, cut from stone and decorated with tattoos that glisten from a sheen of sweat.

When his pants drop to the ground, I’m reminded of when I caught him pleasuring himself.

My memory didn’t do him justice. His thick cock, pointing to the right and resting on his hip, is outlined in his tight black boxer briefs, and I no longer think this is a good idea.

Definitely not going to fit .

His gaze is fixed just above me as he pushes his last article of clothing to the floor and fists himself.

Rolling his head back on his shoulders, he strokes himself a few times before closing in on me.

His piercings are intimidating, for sure.

The stainless-steel balls that make a halo around his circumcised tip make it look mean and not at all pleasant.

“You’re looking at my cock like it’s going to jump out and bite you,” he says, planting his knees on the mattress. “Scoot up to the top of the bed.”

With my back against the cold metal headboard, I pull my knees up to my chest, trying to conceal as much of myself from him as possible.

Riot just smiles, or maybe it’s a sneer.

Regardless, he moves closer and begins to unwrap me, limb by limb, spreading my legs to make space for himself.

Then, a swift pull on my thighs has me flat on the mattress.

He leans over me, holding himself up with an elbow on either side of my head. His cock is pressed against my sex, so much harder than I thought an erection to be. “Did you change your mind, Little Thorn?”

“I don’t know,” I say truthfully.

He dips down to kiss me, no tongue this time. “I can taste your fear. It turns me on.”

“You want me to be afraid?”

“Fuck yes,” he growls, nipping my ear lobe. “But I haven’t hurt you yet, and I promised to make this good.”

So many emotions war inside me, and I can’t think straight when he’s grinding his cock against me.

He’s so close, all it would take is him pulling back just a little, and then he’d be right there, and I wouldn’t be a virgin anymore.

I’d finally know what all my friends go on and on about, and for some reason I can’t even fathom, I do trust he won’t hurt me.

“Do it,” I say.

It’s all the permission he needs before he removes my glasses, placing them on the nightstand, and kneels in front of me with his cock in hand.

His muscular thighs are spread, and my legs are hiked on top of them.

I reach above my head and grab the metal bars of the headboard, needing something to ground me to this moment. It feels so surreal.

“I can’t wait to feel this fuckin’ pussy wrapped around me. You’ll have me blowing in seconds like a teenage boy, I just know it.”

Why that makes me feel good is anyone’s guess, but I hope he’s not serious because I think it’ll take me longer than that to have another orgasm. If I’m going to let a serial killer take my virginity, I better get an orgasm out of it.

He teases the head of his dick at my entrance, rubbing it up and down.

My sex clenches in anticipation, releasing another wave of arousal.

With one short thrust, his head, piercings and all, is inside me.

The stretch is almost painful, making me hiss and pull on the bars until I’m white-knuckling them, but he grips my hips, keeping me in place and not allowing me to escape.

“You’re okay.” It’s a statement, not a question, which is curious because how would he know? “Need to move, baby. You with me?”

I nod, and with slow thrusts, he works his way deeper and deeper.

From what I can tell, he has four bars around the head of his penis with stainless steel balls on each end, which means I’m being internally massaged in every direction.

The sensations are overwhelming, to say the least. My head swims with it all, trying to distinguish pain, pressure, and pleasure, but they all blur together.

“You’re taking me so good. I’m proud of you, Little Thorn.” He pulls out nearly all the way before pushing back in, faster this time.

“Oh, shit,” I curse. Each time he pushes in, those balls hit a place inside that has me wanting more.

“Fuck, I wish you could see this. My cock is covered in your cum and some blood, mixing together to make the most beautiful shade of pink.” He reaches between us, and I feel his finger circle around where we’re joined before bringing that finger to his mouth and sucking.

He licked my blood and arousal off his finger .

Is this man okay? And why did that turn me on even more?

I must be just as messed up as he is. Between thrusts, he reaches down again, collecting more. “You want a taste?”

“No.” Yes . I can’t say that, though. It’s so wrong, so disgusting. Right?

“Yes, you do. Open your mouth.”

“No,” I scoff.

“Open your goddamn mouth, or I’ll flip you over and spank you. Then I’ll come all over your reddened ass and leave you wanting.”

Holy shit. Did he really just say that? He’s definitely not the insecure loner who hides in a corner with his rats right now. This guy is confident and kinky.

I have to think about what he just said because being spanked and having him cover my sore cheeks with his essence sounds pretty hot. Oh, god. Forget about Riot being different in bed; I don’t even recognize myself right now.

Since I really don’t want him to pull out, slightly less than I want his hand on my butt, I open my mouth the smallest amount.

He pushes inside me so deep, his balls slap against my ass, and he holds himself there so he can lean over me. And when he sucks his finger into his mouth, I feel a little disappointed—until he pinches my cheeks so hard, I have no choice but to open wider, and he spits into my mouth.

He. Spits. Into. My. Mouth.

“Riot,” I whine, pulling out of his hold. But then his lips are on mine, his tongue is tangled with my own, and our tastes swirl around, becoming one.

The small world I’ve lived in, where my clothing, language, and behavior are expected to be “proper,” screams at me to reject this depravity, but Riot’s right.

It’s only me and him here; I don’t have to be anything but who I want to be with him.

And that was the most erotic experience of my life. I want more.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he says.

“ Now ? You haven’t been?”

“Not properly.” He leans back on his haunches, his muscles tensing as he grips my hips in a firm, resolute hold.

His fingers dig into my skin, sending a ripple of anticipation through my body, and with powerful, rhythmic thrusts, he drives himself so deeply within me, my vision blurs with a burst of stars.

The intensity of his movements is overwhelming, and it takes only moments before I’m free-falling into another uncontrollable orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I scream each time he drives into me. Then his thumb presses against my clit, and I detonate to another dimension—or at least that’s what it feels like.

“That’s it,” Riot says through gritted teeth. “Milk my cock. Be my slut.”

“Oh, god,” I groan, his filthy words not letting my arousal waver.

“You want my cum, Little Thorn? Beg for it. Let me hear you. Tell me you want it.”

“Yes! Please! I want to feel your cum inside me.” I don’t even recognize my own voice, but that doesn’t make the words any less true because I do want it. Desperately .

“Fuck, yeah.” He grunts, and his body jerks as he slams into me one last time.

There’s no possible way for our bodies to be any closer than they are right now, but that doesn’t stop him from pushing down on my hips as a torrent of warmth fills me up.

His scrunched face, arched back, and, god, the sounds he makes are all too much.

Unwanted tears prick my eyes, and it takes me a moment to understand why.

Riot stripped me bare in every shape and form.

All the control, perfectionism, and expectations from my previous life are gone.

So are the fear, uncertainty, and confusion of this life.

There’s nothing left but my authentic self, and it’s terrifying because I have no idea who that person is.