Page 106 of Anthem of Love and Loathing

When the joint is finished, he grinds out the butt in the ashtray. His full attention on me, he sucks deep hot patches into my flesh from my throat to my shoulder to my tits. I arch into the marks he’s leaving, blocking everything out but the way my body is responding.

Curling my fingers in his hair, I revel when he moves down my body and runs his tongue down the center of my torso. He digs the tip into my navel, tugs the piercing there between his teeth. Hooking his fingers into my sweats, he drags them off.

My thighs stick together when he brings them up between us. Kneeling between my feet, he bites my kneecap before tugging my legs wide. “Little Vandal, are you still good?”

“Mmhmm.” My knees drift back toward each other, and I grip handfuls of his sheets in anticipation.

“I’m going to need to tie these in place, aren’t I?” he murmurs, drawing a line from one knee up my thigh to my clit.

“No.” My pussy clenches. She drips.

He kisses my other knee, and along the inside of my thigh. “Keep them apart. Every time you can’t, I’ll stop. Got it?”

“Yes.”

He growls. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Rockstar.”

“Let’s see if you can still be a good girl.” His lips cover my entrance. His tongue delves inside. The noise he makes is ravenous.

I arch from the bed as a clap of lightning brightens the room. He uses a palm to clamp me in place while he continues to eat.

My breaths grow into sharp, needy, little pants.

He moves his tongue to my clit and spears me with two fingers. Pumping them in and out of me, he finds that spot deep inside that has me whining for release. My thighs clamp around his ears.

Riot stops. He looks up at me, a devilish gleam in his eyes.

The level of my pleasure dips.

“Ready to try again?” His voice vibrates over my skin.

“Yes.” I spread my knees wider. Knot my fingers in his hair.

Slowly, he builds me up again. His fingers pressing and stroking in all the right ways to rebuild my orgasm quickly.

I undulate under his demanding tongue, grinding into his mouth as my big O becomes my entire focus.

Except there go my knees again. Closing around his head, clamping down and giving him more time to edge me to the brink of insanity.

I lose count of how many times he demands my orgasm only to deny it when I break his rule.

“Riot, I need... please... I need you to fuck me.” I thrash as he draws back once more. I’m a sopping mess of my juices and his spit. I am aching and empty and desperate for him to move inside me.

“Let me help you keep those knees apart.” He climbs up over me, settling his weight over me and pressing his cock to my entrance. My knees stay apart with his hips wedged between them.

Pushing all the way in, he fucks me slow. Every move he makes is measured and planned to torture me until he’s ready to reward me.

“You’re out of practice,” he says. “Couldn’t find someone who could take my place?”

“I haven’t fucked anyone else since you, you jerk.”

He stops. He freaking stops mid-thrust. His heavily hooded gaze flares.

“Riot,” I correct myself.

“What about Bronx? And Kodiak?” He starts to move again. His fingers bite into my jaw, demandingly gentle as he pistons his hips and builds that friction to its sweetest point. “Neither of them been inside you?”