I didn’t even have it in me to ask if Riggs had seen me come all over myself in the loft. Not that I needed to. The darkness of his eyes was answer enough, the bulge behind his zipper, the twitching in his muscles.
“I did,” he answered.
A heavy silence settled between us, punctuated only by the rapid slam of my heartbeat and the staggered punch of my breaths.
“Smith,” Riggs croaked my name. “Was it enough?”
“What?” I rasped.
His stare flickered to below my waist. “Was it enough?”
I blinked hard, shaking my head.
He dropped his shoulders, sniffed and rubbed his nostrils with the knuckle of his pointer finger. Even in the shadows of the hoodie and the bathroom lighting, his tattoos were visible, swirling shapes and colors on the tops of his hands, the long column of his throat. Like he’d made a decision for himself, Riggs moved enough to open the door to the stall and stepped inside. The door swung, and I tried to not think too hard about it as I followed him in. Once in the small space, he closed in onme immediately, reaching down by my hip to latch the lock into place.
His breath against my cheek smelled of hops.
“You touched yourself like you hated it,” he said. “Upstairs, I watched you the whole time.”
Embarrassment burned my cheeks, but there was nowhere else for me to look, nowhere else for me to go.
“I didn’t hate it,” I whispered.
“Is that how you like to get off? Do you like it rough?”
I sucked in a breath, chin quivering. Something about Riggs reduced me to the core parts of myself, parts I wasn’t even aware of. Beneath his scrutiny, I was faced with a version of myself I’d slowly been running after for years, but now I wasn’t sure if I wanted to meet it.
He bit his tongue between his teeth and drew in a wet breath. “Smith, if you don’t?—”
“I do!” I blurted, grabbing the front of his hoodie before he could back away from me. “I do, I just…I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to give you a choice?” he asked, voice low.
Generally, no, I didn’t want a choice. Part of what had been so appealing about everything I’d seen at Rapture was the distinct lack of decision making required for people to enjoy themselves, but in this instance…
“I don’t know,” I said again.
“Maybe this time?”
I swallowed hard at the implication there could beanothertime. “Maybe.”
“The first option, the one that always exists, is you can tell me to fuck off and I’ll leave you alone. The next one is I turn you around, press you against the door, and I touch you the way you touch yourself.” Riggs paused, exhaling against my ear before clarifying, “Until you come.”
“Is there a third option?” I asked, voice barely more than a whimper.
His mouth pulled into a dangerous-looking smile. “You still get to come, but I do it my way.”
Of all the thoughts that entered my mind at that proposition, the only one that made it out of my mouth was, “Here?”
“Not ideal, but yes.”
There was a part of me, a very large part, that wanted Riggs to touch me the way I touched myself. There was something about being made aware of how much he’d seen and how closely he’d watched me that had enough blood rushing back between my legs to make me dizzy. But there was that other part of me, a much smaller one, and much more scared one, that wanted to know what he’d do if he had his way. He’d implied there could be more than one time, but I wasn’t sure that wasn’t a heat-of-the-moment kind of concession or something real, and if I only had one chance with this man, I didn’t want to ruin it.
“Both,” I murmured, dropping my head against the door and staring up at Riggs. “I want both.”
He moved quickly after that, like if he took too long I would change my mind. Riggs pressed my chest against the door, my cheek smashed against the wood and his forearm like a bar across the top of my back. His own cock burned against the small of my back, but I had no time to even process the size of him because his other hand reached around the front of me and made quick work of my zipper. I hadn’t even rebuttoned my pants, and Riggs’s hand was in my underwear and wrapped around my dick before I could even draw my next breath.
“Option one always stands,” he reminded me, baring his teeth against the shell of my ear. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”
