Page 49 of Riot’s Thorn (Sons of Erebus: Reno, NV #4)
His only answer is to kick the wheelchair-accessible stall open and push me inside. My heart is thumping loudly, and my body tenses in fear. It happens so fast, I become disoriented and can’t think of a plan to get free.
He slides the lock then turns both of us until we’re facing the door. His hands run down my arms before circling my wrists with his fingers and flattening my palms against the cold metal door. The black leather gloves and the black sleeves of his shirt do nothing to help me identify who this is.
“Did you miss me, Little Thorn?” If the nickname didn’t give him away, the voice does, because now that I’m not struggling and it’s quiet, I recognize the deep timbre right away.
“Riot?”
“Keep your hands here. If you move them, I’ll stop and leave your greedy little cunt wanting. Do you understand me?”
“What are you talking about? We can’t have sex right now.”
“We can, and we are. Now, will you leave your hands here, or do I need to spend the little amount of time I have spanking your ass red?” He palms my breast through my dress, and my core clenches tight.
I’d like to think I’m a smart woman, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about myself, it’s that my brain shuts down when I’m scared, so I don’t reply.
“Answer me.” I open my mouth, but I can’t form words. “So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?”
He releases my hands, which I do keep in position because, regardless of my inability to speak, I want this.
It’s been too long since I’ve felt satisfied.
No matter how many times I pleased myself, even feeling Riot’s eyes watching me, it was never enough.
I couldn’t ever get myself to the same place he took me; it always just fell flat.
Cold air hits bare skin as Riot pushes my dress up over my hips.
His view is of a barely there thong since my dress was so fitted.
He hums his approval as he massages a cheek.
He must’ve removed his gloves because it’s his calloused palm I feel, and god, does it feel good, though I do have to suspend reality a little.
If I think about being in a Vegas bathroom too much, I’ll get grossed out.
His warm hand leaves my ass, and then seconds later, it lands a hard swat to each cheek in rapid succession, making me cry out. “Riot!”
“Shh, Little Thorn. You don’t want that big motherfucker out there to come running, do you? It’d be a shame for him to lose his eyes for seeing what’s mine.” He presses his body against me, wedging his jeans-covered hard cock between my cheeks.
“Please,” I beg. My panties are destroyed. I’m going to have to finish the night out without them, which means I’ll have Riot’s cum sticky between my thighs. That thought has another rush of warmth coating my sex.
“That’s it, slut. Beg for it. Beg for my cock. Tell me how badly you want it.” I hear the clank of his buckle and then his zipper lowering. “You’re not begging. Maybe you don’t want it. That’s okay too. I’ll just fuck my fist and paint your ass with my cu?—”
“Please,” I say again because if I don’t get him inside me soon, I might quite literally die. Lifting to my toes and propping my butt out, I try to persuade him. “Please fuck me. I’ve missed the way you fill me up and how good you make me feel. I’ll do anything. Anythi?—”
The word is cut off when he slams into me. There’s no easing in or allowing me time to adjust, no. In one solid thrust, he bottoms out, holding his pelvis against my ass as deep as he can be in this position.
“Is that what you want?” He wraps a hand around my throat, tilting my head back as he begins to thrust.
“Yes. God, yes.”
“You’re such a dirty little slut.” He licks up the side of my face, his hand squeezing my throat just a little more. “Begging for me to fuck you in a public bathroom. Anyone could come in. Is that what you want? You want everyone to see what a whore you are for me?”
“Harder. Fuck me harder. Please.” His depraved words, along with his short and fast thrusts, knock me over the edge of my first orgasm. His piercings rub the perfect spot inside me that has me seeing stars and my core clenching tight. Shit, I needed this. I needed him.
“It makes me so hard hearing how much you want me. How much you need me.” With each of his forward thrusts, I push back, filling the bathroom with the sounds of flesh on flesh.
My sex is swollen after he’s rung every ounce of pleasure from me, making me feel the drag of his piercings even more, and even though I’m certain I can’t come again so soon, it feels so good.
“Give me your cum,” I say, caught up in the moment. “I want to feel you coat my insides. Please.”
“Oh, I will. And don’t get any ideas about cleaning up after. I want to watch you squirm, trying to keep me from leaking down your thighs. You got that?”
“Yes. Oh, god. Please. I need it.”
He grunts, slamming our bodies together so hard, I think he hit my cervix. Then he’s pulsing and warming me from the inside with his seed. The room goes quiet for a few moments before the door to the bathroom opens, letting in the sounds of the casino.
“Parker? You okay?” Otto calls out. Riot holds himself inside me, pulling out just an inch before pushing back in, distracting me. “Parker?”
“Better answer him, Little Thorn,” Riot whispers next to the shell of my ear.
“F-fine,” I mutter. “Just a little upset tummy.”
“Okay. Just try and hurry. There’s a bit of a line building up.”
I had no idea he’d been holding back traffic, which brings up a good point. “How did you know I’d come in here?”
He kisses my shoulder, trailing his hands up and down my sides. “I didn’t. But when you gave up on the bathroom in the club, I figured this bathroom seemed like the reasonable next step for you, so I took a gamble that paid off.”
“I need to go,” I say. “He’s already suspicious.”
“He’s not your babysitter.”
“If you came home with me, we could do this all night.” This suggestion breaks his lust-induced spell, and he pulls out of me, hissing. I hate how empty it leaves me, both figuratively and literally. “Is that a no?”
He wipes himself off with toilet paper, not offering me any. I guess he was serious about making me hold his cum inside for the rest of the night. I’ll be lucky if I don’t leave a wet spot on the couch. Once he’s tucked away and buckled and I’ve righted myself, I look at him questioningly.