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She had always liked the look of men, but she had never been tempted enough by them to do anything.
He was a constant temptation.
She leaned in, sliding her tongue over his length, the way that he had taught her to pleasure him.
She took him deep into her mouth, sucked him until he was groaning with desire. Until she had the power. All of it. And she knew it well.
Until she couldn’t wait any longer. Until she needed him between her thighs, not just her lips.
She stood then, pressing against the center of his chest, and he sat on the edge of the bed. She straddled his lap, bringing herself down onto his hardened length and impaling herself on the evidence of his desire.
She let her head fall back as greed overtook them both. He gripped her hips, and brought her down hard onto him every time she moved, increasing the intensity even while she set the pace.
And they didn’t kiss. It was more primal than that. And there was too much... It was still too much anger.
But he was hers. And he was in her. And she needed him. Needed this, in ways that she couldn’t articulate.
“Krav,” she said, rolling her hips forward.
“Riot.”
And he came inside of her on a roar, and she followed him over the edge, need pulsing through her, memories.
She made love to him knowing that they had met in a rainstorm. Knowing that they carried on a torrid, physical only affair that spanned continents. Knowing that he had rejected her. That he had sent her away thinking she had lost the baby. Knowing that he had lied to her. That he had manipulated her.
And wanting him anyway. Having him anyway.
And when it was done, their foreheads pressed together, their breathing jagged.
“I don’t know what our marriage will be,” she said. “But it will not be in name only.”
“Be careful,” he said, tracing a line down her throat with the tip of his tongue before kissing her. “You may not be happy that you’ve opened up this possibility.”
“Whatever we are, how can we find out if we build fences around each other?”
“I live my whole life with the wall between myself and the world, Riot, and marriage will not change that. Sex will not change it.”
“Maybe it isn’t for you. Maybe it’s because it’s changing me.”
“As long as I get to have you. Doesn’t matter.”
She wished that it did. She wanted to tell him that it should. But instead, she simply slid away from him and collected her clothes. “I assume you won’t stop me from keeping my own room?”
“Is it what you want?”
She wanted to protect herself, and she understood that was the urge driving her now. But for now, she was going to give in to it.
“Yes.”
“All right.”
He was still naked, still breathing hard. And yet speaking with such cool dispassionate emotion that it would be easy to believe he hadn’t been affected. If she hadn’t just had him inside of her. If she didn’t know better.
And when she went back to her room, she gave in to her own complicated feelings, and started to weep.
Because she might’ve resolved to take action, and to be strong, but that didn’t mean it was pain free.
No, this thing was difficult. This thing was a fight.
