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Finally, he notches the head and slides into me, slow and careful, stretching me wonderfully. His eyes are locked to mine like he’s reading me, looking for any shift or change in my demeanor. He slides halfway out gently before sliding back in.
He’s being careful.
He’s being gentle.
I hate it. I need the passion and the excitement and the lack of restraint that is Riggins and I now.
“Let go,” I groan, my fingers digging into his head. “Please, god. I’m not fragile. Fuck me, Riggins,” I moan. He stops completely, buried deep, before his eyes go dark.
“You don’t want gentle,” he says, and I shake my head, hand moving to dig my nails in his back to get him closer, to get more.
“I want you, Riggins. I want whatever you can give me.” His lips tip up but not in the playful way from before. In a wild way, that has me clenching on him as he slides out once more.
Finally, he gives me him.
He slams back into me with no restraint, and I moan loudly, my head snapping back as I do. The fire instantly ignites in my belly, and my nails dig in as he slides out and in again. His eyes survey my body as he moves, as one hand moves to my breast, tugging roughly on my nipple.
He watches with rapt fascination as he pounds into me, as I not only take his thrusts but arch into them, begging for more.
“Fuck, Stell. Look at you. Loved you then, loved fucking you then, but love you even more now.” I moan at his words, writhing, feeling it crest and crest, the pressure building in my belly. He continues to speak through gritted teeth. “Love that I know you can take me, that you love when I’m fucking you hard and take what I need.”
“Yes, yes, Riggs. God, yes. Whatever you need.” I’m floating, lightheaded with pleasure and desire, and Riggins and all things bright and shiny and happy.
“You’re mine, Stella.”
“Riggins—” I moan,
“No.” A deep groan leaves his lips, but he keeps slamming into me, harder now, a hand on each side of my hips using me as leverage to slam deeper, harder with each thrust. Each move pulls a deep groan from his chest, and I can’t do much more than look up at him, take what he’s willing to give me and feel every sensation.
“Now take your hand and rub your clit until you moan my name as you come. You moan, and I’ll fill you up with my cum. Then you’re gonna know that even as it drips out of you, you’re mine. Forever, Stella.”
That’s all it takes. My hand is barely even on my clit when my back arches, when I scream his name, clamping down on him and coming harder than I ever have in my life. My body feels on fire as he continues to slam into me, groaning out bits of words and phrases likebeautifulandfuckandso goodbefore he finally shoutsFuck, Stella!As he buries himself as deep as he can.
The feel of him spilling into me triggers another small orgasm, my body shaking before I go limp beneath him, totally spent and completely changed.
34 EVERYWHERE, EVERYTHING
THEN
STELLA
Things have been good. So good, I’m scared to jinx it. Every night, Riggins is by my side, no longer partying every night. On nights there’s a show, we all go out together and drink and have fun, but it’s controlled, easy. Fun.
No more beers when he wakes up, no more kissing him with vodka on his lips, no more feeling like I have to keep up with him. Even the guys seem more relaxed. I hadn’t realized how on edge they were until the big blow up, but now that everything is out in the open, it feels like a weight has been lifted.
My body feels euphoric, my mind open again so words and lines and lyrics are coming back to me. I’ve written more in the last month than I had the entire tour.
And now we’re in Las Vegas. The city of sin and lights and excitement. I’d been excited about this stop since I saw it on the schedule. I thought we could explore the city with the extra day here before the first show tomorrow since it’s a bucket list city for me, but it seems I’ve brought the rain with me, dragging it from the East Coast to the place where it rarely ever rains.
“I brought the rain,” I say to Riggins as we look out the window of the bus. He laughs, pushing my hair behind my shoulder.
“I love the rain,” he whispers in my ear, sending a chill down my spine. “Always reminds me of you. Of the rain and the stars. Of the first time I kissed you.”
“Can’t see the stars if it’s raining, you know.”
“If I’m with you, there’s always stars, Stell. My own personal sun.” I laugh loudly, turning to look at him, and he shifts me so I’m in his lap, hand on my jaw.
He’s so fucking handsome. His hair has some lighter highlights in it from the sun, from my forcing him to sit on beaches and explore anytime we have a free day in a new place. He’d drag me around, showing me the places he bought me postcards from if it was a stop they had made with the last tour or showing me the location on the postcard.
