Page 105 of Anthem of Love and Loathing

Kneeling, he places his palms either side of me on the mattress. I cling to him as he presses me into the yielding surface.

“More.” I whimper as I kiss his jaw, soothed by his frame pinning me down.

He finds my ass with one hand, his grip forcing our bodies closer together while he lowers himself onto his other elbow. His weight is crushing. It constricts my ribs and makes every breath hurt. I need this. I need the pain to keep me centered.

Another roll of thunder has me clenching my knees around his hips. I dig my nails into his back.

“You never told me what Marco did to you.” His voice in my ear grounds me. “I could see he was mean. Violent. I didn’t think—"

“I’m not going to talk about this,” I say.

He stiffens.

“I don’t want to talk about it with anyone. Ever. If I had wanted to, you would have been that shoulder I cried on.” And he would have been sweet and careful with me back then. He would have done everything in his power to make me feel better.

I don’t need to feel better about it. I don’t need to relive it and try to find a way to move forward. I have nothing to be ashamed about. I didn’t make Marco do what he did. I survived it. “I don’t want to remember it. Or think about it. Or relive it.”

“What do you call this?” he asks staring down at the way he’s holding me down. “If not reliving it.”

“Obliterating it.” I press my hands to the sides of his throat and lock our gazes in the dim lamp light. “Please, Riot. Distract me.”

He hesitates. “That’s what you need? You’re sure?”

“Yes.” I rock my core against him, giving my focus on how he hardens for me.

“You’re going to tell me if you change your mind?” he asks. “If you want to stop?”

“I won’t.”

He wraps his hand around my throat and tips my head back. His fingers tighten slightly on the sides of my throat. “Kelsey, you need to tell me you remember our word.”

I nod. My chest is tightening and my head is beginning to swim, and it is precisely what I need from him. “I remember.”

“Don’t tell me you remember. Tell me the word,” he says soft but stern. “I can’t give you what you want until you do.”

“Skittles,” I whisper.

He leans in and growls in my ear, “Good girl.”

The adrenaline... the fear... the ugly, dirty, scarred parts of me recede. I’m in Riot’s bed, in his arms, in his care. We can hate each other and hurt each other but the minute I say that word he becomes my safe place. He will stay my safe place until we come to the end of our night together or I say the word again.

“I’m going to undress both of us.” He peels his hand slowly from my throat. “Can you handle that, Little Vandal? If I get off you... to make it easier to remove all these clothes.”

I shake my head. I’m reluctant to let him go. I’m scared to not feel him all around me in case Marco crowds back in along with the storm.

He draws in a deep breath and lets it out while he stares into me like he can see all my secrets and my fears and everything that makes me tick. He stretches over me and picks up the joint. Sticking it between his lips, he picks up his lighter and sparks a flame to the end.

Putting down the lighter he draws on the joint.

I lick my lips to moisten them.

He holds the joint between his fingers on the bed as he lowers his mouth to capture mine. His tongue pushes its way between my lips along with the smoke, spreading the intoxicating, pungent haze into every crevice.

I tangle my tongue with his as the drug creeps into my lungs. It makes things fuzzier. It eases the tension inside me. It’s sin and sex and ownership in smoke form. Riot Maddox does things to me that no one else can do.

Sharing the rest of his joint with me in that manner, he strips away our shirts in between inhaling the smoke and kissing it into me. He molds and massages my tits. Outlines each of my nipples with a deliberate slowness that gives me goosebumps and sends sparks to my core.

The entire time he holds me down, straddling my thighs and keeping one hand around my throat.