His hands are both on the wall above my head now, holding himself upright. My lips hover just above him, close enough that he can feel my breath but not my touch. “Wanna guess Lola’s favorite lollipop flavor?”
A rough grunt vibrates through his chest, his hips already shifting toward me.
“Sweet,” I whisper, flattening my tongue to give the tip one slow lick that makes his whole body tense. I look up through my lashes, watching his eyes go dark. “Salty…” Another lick, this time swirling around the head. “Pre-cum.”
I grin against him before leaning in again, dragging my tongue slowly up his length, savoring every twitch and shudder. “And I always finish what I start.”
He curses and then his hand moves from the wall to my hair, his fingers tangling in the strands. He starts to move, his hips thrusting, setting a rhythm that is both rough and demanding.
He’s not holding back anymore. He’s not holding anything back. He’s a force of nature, a whirlwind of untamed power, and I’m at the center of the storm. He’s taking what he wants, what I offered, and I’m letting him. I’m taking it all, my mouth working, my tongue swirling, my hands gripping his thighs for support. He pushes deeper, and I choke, my eyes watering, but I don’t pull back. I relax my throat and take him all in.
Thrust. Thrust.
A drunk stumbles by. He stops, his eyes widening as he sees us. He leans against the opposite wall, settling in to watch the show. His hand drifts to his own belt, his fingers fumbling with the buckle.
Thrust. Thrust.
Jax doesn’t even break rhythm. He just lifts his head, his red eyes glowing like hot coals in the dark, and glances at the man. The drunk’s hand freezes on his buckle. The stupid grin on his face dissolves into pure, unadulterated terror. He’s shoved backward by an invisible force, slammed against the wall with a thud that knocks the wind out of him. His eyes roll back in his head, and he slides down the wall to the floor in a dead faint. For a moment, I think he’s out cold. But then his eyes snap open, wide with horror, and he scrambles on all fours, crab-walking backward, his boots slipping in the grime as he fumbles for the corner.
Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.
Jax is getting close. I can feel it in the way his body tenses, in the way his breathing becomes more ragged, in the way his grip on my hair tightens almost to the point of pain. He’s on the edge, and I’m the one pushing him over.
“Sisk,” he groans, the name a crack in the Riot facade.
And then he’s coming, his hot release flooding my mouth. I hold on, swallowing around him as his body shudders and stills.
He looks down at me and I lick my lips, making sure he sees me taste the last of him. When I stand, my body presses against his. I move closer and drag my tongue across his lips, leaving them wet and slick with his own release. “You broke character,” I whisper, my voice husky. His red eyes just burn into mine. “I guess I win,” I say with a wink.
He grabs my face, his fingers digging into my jaw. “Raise.”
I blink. “Seriously?”
He nods.
I consider it, then say the thing that’s been sitting in my head all night. “If I win, you let me in. Whatever you’re hiding—you trust me with it. You tell me why you’ve been pushing me away all these years. No secrets. No half-truths. No question of the day bullshit.”
His thumb brushes my cheek. “Deal.”
I study him. “That’s it? You’re not even negotiating?”
His gaze sharpens. “Those are your terms.”
I exhale, then tilt my head. “So are you raising the bet or not?”
“Do you have a fourth hole I can fuck?” he asks.
I laugh. “I guess I’m out of holes to offer.”
He pushes back, his eyes glinting with challenge. “What are you offering?”
I pretend to think, tapping a finger to my lip. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“What’s Riot into? Any kinks? I know Riot is into choking and spanking. But what’s Riot’s darkest fantasy? I think we can make it happen, because Lola is game for a lot of things.”
His eyes are wide, a flicker of Jax’s shock warring with Riot’s hungry interest.
