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My brain can barely focus on anything besides the man filling me with his thick shaft. I whimper at the feel of him, my sex pulsing hotly around him as he thrusts the rest of the way in.
“Riot . . .”
His mouth slams down on mine, kissing me hard as he takes me roughly. The headboard slams into the wall, no doubt causing damage, but he doesn’t seem to care as he pounds faster and harder into me. He breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull his lips away from me, his breath mingling hotly with mine as he grinds roughly into me. I gasp when he grabs my leg and lifts it to his hip, sending him deeper into me. “Fuck me, baby,” he pants, sweat beading on his forehead as he locks his eyes on mine. “You’re mine. This tight little pussy is mine.”
“Yours,” I whimper when he starts rolling faster into me, inching his cock in and out of me in rough strokes.
“Mine,” he rasps again, his tone so gruff and possessive, it has my heart aching with need. I bring one hand to his shoulder, my nails biting into his skin when pleasure reignites in my core, threatening to sweep me away, but I don’t want to come. Not just yet.
Instead, I want to see this beautiful man come apart in my arms, and I notice how close he is when his breathing grows short and his jaw tightens. He drives his thick cock into me harder, his eyes growing glassy, and that throws me into another orgasm, one that has me springing off the bed and my pussy clenching tightly around him. I pull him over the edge with me, and he comes with a roar.
“Fuck!” His muscles seize above mine for a second before he fills me with his hot seed. He rolls his hips over mine, rutting me so hard, I see stars, but he doesn’t let me fall this time. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me flush against him when the trembling doesn’t die down.
“Perfect, your perfect, baby,” he pants, brushing his lips over whatever skin he can reach as my body settles into a blissful feeling. “I love you.”
The words don’t register immediately, what with all my brain cells fried, and when it does, I wait for the panic. I should not be with this man, so, of course, I am supposed to panic, but instead, all I feel is peace.
And love.
I’m about to voice my emotions when the annoying sound of my phone interrupts my thoughts, and panic swells through me when I recognize the ringtone I’ve set for my father.
“Oh, shit,” I groan, trying to slide away from Riot, whose arms are like heavy bands around me, unmoving.
“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, Sasha. You don’t need to run away. I’ll wait—”
“No, it’s not that,” I say, tapping rapidly on his arm. “My phone. I have to get it. It’s my dad.”
At the urgency of my tone, he lets go of me, and I jump from the bed, looking for the damned device, but it’s not in the bedroom.
“You dropped your purse in the living room,” Riot says, running his eyes hotly over me, and I blush, avoiding his gaze and rushing out of the room. I find my phone just before it goes to voicemail and quickly accept the call. Shame rocks me, and I wince when I feel something warm and wet trail down my inner thigh as the call connects.
“Where are you?” demands a familiar voice.
“Uh . . . I . . . um . . .”
“Come home now and bring him with you.”
The call ends before I can respond, and I turn around when I hear Riot walk into the room. He’s only in his jeans, which are unzipped to reveal that V-line I want to trace my tongue, but now is not the time.
“Everything okay?” he asks in that soft tone that I want to believe is just for me.
“No. My father wants to see me,” I tell him, biting my lip.
“Oh, all right then. I’ll give you a ride home . . .”
“He wants to see you too, Riot. He knows about us.”
Chapter Seven
Riot
The Greenwald mansion, located in the suburbs of Austin, is ostentatious. It’s easily the biggest house I have ever seen.
As the massive gate opens and I drive up the long stretch that I guess is supposed to be the driveway, I can’t help but roll my eyes at the house, if it can even be called that. This place is like a palace. It’s so massive, I bet it could house all of Austin’s homeless population and still have space for a petting zoo.
I have to fight back another eyeroll once Sasha and I enter the house. The place looks like a museum on the inside. The marble pillars, the grand staircase, the chandeliers— it’s all over the top and so cold. The wealth displayed inside the house is so ridiculous, it’d be comical if I couldn’t feel Sasha’s nerves coming off her in waves.
“Mr. Greenwald will see you in his office.” A tall lanky man in an ill-fitting suit who I assume is the butler gestures down a hall to the left of the central staircase.
