“Beg, candy head. I’ll give it to you. I’ll let you come all over my fingers before you come all over my cock. Tell me you want that. Tell me you want me as much as I want you.”
“Christ, Riot, you know I do.” I rotate my hips, needing more. On an edge that only he satisfies. “I want you more than I can stand. All the time.”
“SayRiot, please make me come.”
I throw an arm over my eyes, smiling at him cheekily. “Riot, please make me come.”
He moves his fingers faster, amping up the wattage on the orgasm simmering inside me. I scream as it shatters me.
“That’s my girl.” He leans down and kisses me as he removes his fingers. Strokes my tongue with his and takes his time exploring all the recesses of my mouth while he peels my panties down my thighs.
I bend my knees and bring my feet up to help him remove the tiny thong while we kiss like two lovers—not like fuck buddies. He locates the zipper on the side of my skirt and lowers it, then drags that down too.
He leaves my heels on.
I grab at his T-shirt, stretching the material as I pry it from his chiselled torso and tug it over his head. I love his body. The lean, muscular planes built for power and endurance.
A tiny cross and skateboard dangle from the chain he always wears. A quirky gift I bought him the first time we hung out. He came with me to buy new bearings for my board, and we spent the rest of the afternoon talking and walking around the neighborhood.
The fact that he never takes it off means everything. I love that he values our friendship. I just wish it meant more.
I imagine our baby with his dark hair and eyes. A boy as talented as his father and as much trouble.
I stop imagining anything when he stands on the mattress above me and unbuttons his pants. My mouth waters as he shoves them down and kicks them away. This gorgeous rock star makes my heart hammer and my pussy needy.
I crawl onto my knees for a taste of him. His thick cock bobs in front of my face. I tilt my head and lick the precum beading on the crown before I wrap my lips around him.
He groans as he knots his fingers in my hair and swivels his hips for me to take more before pulling me off completely. “Damn, that’s a sight I will never get used to, candy head. Not as long as I live.”
He sinks to his knees on the mattress and picks me up so that my thighs are spread wide to accommodate his length. His hands tangle in my hair again, his lips reclaiming my swollen mouth while he fucks me. “Put your fingers on your clit for me. Let’s make you a sopping, filthy mess.”
I reach between us, my nails scraping his cock while he thrusts in and out. I love it when he groans. Slowly I move up to my clit and apply pressure in small motions, causing my nerves to flutter and my inner walls to tighten.
“That’s it. Squeeze me while you work that pretty clit.” He surges inside me while I orgasm, his cock pulsing as I clench around him. There’s a rush of warmth when he comes. Somehow, I’m both sated and feral.
“I can’t get enough of the way you take me,” he says as my back hits the mattress, him still inside me. “You love it when I leave you a mess, don’t you?”
“Mmhmm.” I kiss his chin, his jaw. Needy whimpers fill the brief spaces in between.
“I’m going to give you much more.” He runs his hand down my leg and hikes it up to his shoulder, adjusting the angle, still hard as rock. “You want that?”
“Yes.” My body is begging for everything he has to give.
“Good.” He hits those deep places, the tendons and sinew in his shoulders and jaw straining with the force and control he uses to keep me right where he wants me until he’s ready to come again.
“Give me another,” he orders, pushing me to orgasm right along with him. Our bodies move in symphony as he fills me with cum.
Afterward he collapses on his back on the mattress, and I curl up on his chest. I’m a sticky mess. My hair is no longer confined on top of my head by the pins I painstakingly put in before the concert.
Damp with sweat and slick between the thighs, I lift my head. “Do you think about the future?”
“All the time.” He gets that same faraway smile he used to get when he was dreaming about being a rock star and hiring me as his manager. “This tour is only the beginning for us. There’ll be more albums and more tours. We’re not just going to be famous, we’re going to be household names, candy head.”
“I mean beyond the music. Do you ever think you might want a puppy?” I run his chain between my fingers. “Or a girlfriend? Or a kid? Or a whole glut of them?”
“A glut of girlfriends?” He chuckles. “I can barely handle you.”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” My heart sinks. He’s talking world tours and more time in the studio. That’s where his heart lies. Working twenty hours a day. Spending all our time on the road. Surrounded by far too many drugs and women who want to fuck him.
