Riven hesitated, just a second too long.
Thane’s palm cracked across his thigh. Not hard—just enough to shock him.
“I said,” Thane repeated, voice full of steel and promise, “turn over.”
Chapter 24
Riven turned over.
Heart pounding, breath shaking, his body obeyed before his mind caught up. He got to his knees, bracing on his elbows, face burning against the sheets. He felt exposed. Open in a way that wasn’t just physical.
Thane’s hand slid down his back—slow, possessive—before gripping his hip, hard.
“Look at you,” Thane said, voice low and brutal. “Acting like you hate all this, when your cock’s dripping onto the sheets.”
Riven bit his lip hard enough to taste blood.
He didn’t have time to respond. Thane spat into his hand, worked it between Riven’s cheeks, slicking him open with two fingers. Riven gasped at the intrusion, body jerking, but Thane held him firm.
“Relax,” Thane ordered. “You wanted this. Every filthy inch.”
Riven groaned—more need than denial now.
The fingers worked deeper, rough but practiced, spreading him open while Thane’s other hand gripped his ass, keeping him steady. The stretch ached, but it was nothing compared to the burning low in Riven’s gut. He pushed back without thinking, chasing the contact, and Thane gave a satisfied sound behind him.
“Fuck, you’re already begging without saying a word.”
Thane withdrew his fingers slowly, cruelly slow, and then Riven felt it.
The hot, heavy press of Thane’s cock against his hole.
“Breathe,” Thane murmured, the voice of a man about to devour. “And remember who you belong to.”
The first push had Riven seeing stars. His body clenched, mind flashing panic and pleasure, instinct and surrender. Thane didn’t give him long to adjust—he pressed in with slow, brutal insistence, burying himself deeper with every breathless second.
Riven’s fingers tore at the sheets. “F-fuck—Thane—”
“I know,” Thane said, voice rough with restraint. “You’re taking me so well.”
When he bottomed out, he stilled, chest heaving.
For a moment, everything paused—the air thick, heavy with sweat and want and something more dangerous than either of them wanted to name.
Then Thane began to move.
Deliberate. Deep. Possessive strokes that had Riven shaking, groaning into the sheets, meeting every thrust despite himself. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. But it wasn’t cruel, either. It was hunger. Precision. Thane driving himself into Riven like he meant to brand his shape into him from the inside out.
Riven moaned again, louder this time, unable to stop it. “You—fuck—you’re—sofuckingbig—”
“Too much for you?” Thane panted, leaning forward to bite his shoulder. “Tell me if it is.”
“No,” Riven gasped. “Don’t stop.”
Thane’s laugh was dark and wrecked. “Didn’t plan to.”
Thane’s pace picked up—harder now, rougher, each thrust punching a ragged moan from Riven’s throat. His body rocked with every stroke, sweat slicking his skin, hair sticking to his temple as he clutched the sheets like they could anchor him.
He was unraveling. Everything inside him coiled tight, aching and desperate, spiraling toward a point of no return.
