The kiss was different this time. Harder. More desperate. Riot’s free hand came up to grip Cass’s jaw, holding him in place while his mouth took and took and took. There was nothing gentle about it—just raw hunger that should have been terrifying.
Part of itwasterrifying. The sheer size of Riot, the strength in his hands, the sounds he was making against Cass’s mouth. This was a Berserker. A man who could kill without effort, who Cass read warning after warning about, and now Cass was pressed against his chest while Riot kissed him like he wanted to consume him.
But another part—a part Cass had never known existed—wanted more.
When Riot’s teeth caught his lower lip and bit down, Cass let out a whimper that became a moan, rising from deep in his chest. Instead of being embarrassed, his body arched into the contact, chasing the sharp pleasure-pain.
“That’s it,” Riot growled against his mouth. “Let me hear you.”
His whole life, he’d been told to suppress his responses, to release the negative energy, to strive for transcendence beyond earthly desires. But Riot wanted his sounds. Wanted his responses. He wanted more of exactly what Cass had been taught was wrong.
The next time Riot pulled his hair, Cass didn’t stifle the moan. When Riot’s mouth moved to his jaw and his neck, teeth scraping over sensitive skin, Cass let himself whimper and press closer.
“Good,” Riot breathed against his throat. “So good, princess.”
The praise made warmth bloom in Cass’s chest even as fresh wetness leaked down his legs.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped, trying to pull back. “I’m getting it all over you—I don’t know how to make it stop—”
“Don’t apologize.”
“But your clothes will—I’m making such a mess—”
Riot’s hand slid down, trailing through the wetness running down Cass’s inner thighs. Cass froze, his eyes going wide, as Riot brought glistening fingers up between them.
“You know what this tells me?” Riot’s voice dropped to a husky murmur. “That your body knows exactly what it wants. It’s called slick, princess. And it’ssupposedto happen.”
Before Cass could respond, Riot licked his fingers.
The sight was so shocking, so intimate, that Cass felt the ache in his belly grow. Riot hummed in approval, his eyes never leaving Cass’s as he sucked his fingers clean with a deliberate slowness.
“Perfect,” he breathed. “Sweeter than I imagined.”
He leaned in, crushing another kiss to Cass’s lips, and Cass could taste himself on Riot’s tongue.
“Taste how good you are,” Riot whispered against his mouth before lifting him from the ground.
Cass’s legs wrapped around Riot’s waist on instinct alone, not wanting to fall, and the position changed everything—suddenly there was thick hardness in Riot’s pants pressing directly against where Cass was wet and aching, separated only by thin fabric.
“Oh—” The sound punched out of him, high and startled.
“I’ve got you.” Riot nipped at his neck. “Hold onto me.”
He walked them toward the bed, and every step made their bodies shift together in ways that had Cass gasping. By the time Riot sat down on the edge of the mattress with Cass straddling his lap, Cass was trembling so hard he could barely hold on.
“Riot.” His voice came out shaky, desperate. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t have to do anything.” Riot’s hands settled on his hips, his fingers digging in. “Just feel.”
And then Riot rolled his hips upward.
The pressure against that hollow ache—Cass couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—
A sound tore out of him that he’d never made before. His whole body shuddered, and more wetness flooded between his legs, enough that he could feel it seeping through onto Riot’s pants.
“There you go, that’s it, princess. That’s what I wanted to hear.”
He did it again and again, setting a slow, grinding rhythm that had Cass clutching at his shoulders and making embarrassing sounds with every movement. There was a tickle and an ache that was building toward something—Cass didn’t know what—but each roll of Riot’s hips wound it tighter in his core.
