Vipers and Virtuosos (Monsters & Muses, #2)

After a breath, she obeys, presenting her sopping cunt like the filthy, sex-starved girl she is. I exhale and grip both cheeks, leaning in to run my tongue from one hole to the next.

“Aiden,” she hisses.

“When I said I wanted to see all of you, I meant all of you. Now, be quiet and let me enjoy my meal, or I’ll find something to gag you with.”

The puckered aperture in the valley of her ass contracts, and I grin, glancing up as her forehead slumps against the wall.

“Do you like the sound of that, pretty girl? Want me to stuff your mouth full, so you can’t lie about how bad you want this?”

Diving back in before she can answer, I lap at her sodden cunt, savoring the tang of her desire as it dissolves on my tongue. My nose bumps her asshole as I spear my tongue and thumb inside of her, curling up to massage her inner walls.

She bucks, tiny whimpers punctuating the backward grind of her hips, seeking more.

More, more, more.

It’s the singular thought repeating in my mind as I take, tasting and licking and thrusting with my fingers, my face, my entire being.

This isn’t a feast—it’s a devouring.

That’s the only way to describe the surge of hunger sweeping through me, collecting at the base of my spine as my cock pulses, desperate to sink inside her.

My mouth and fingers seem to be everywhere at once, and somehow that still isn’t quite enough. She appears to teeter on the precipice, caught somewhere between warm hysteria and the edge of oblivion, clamping down around me the second I stroke her clit.

“Don’t come,” I command, but the words are moaned into her skin, spoken like a prayer to paradise as I unravel.

“Stop doing that then,” she chokes out, and immediately I move my mouth to the inside of her thigh, sucking so hard that she mewls like a beast in heat.

Yanking my mouth away with a loud, wet pop, I lave my tongue over the lip-shaped welt forming on her skin, then withdraw my fingers and stand up.

“I didn’t really mean stop,” she says, completely breathless, trying to twist her head around.

The finger that was just inside of her comes up, hooking in the corner of her mouth, while I use my free hand to work my dick free.

“You’re not gonna come today unless I’m inside you,” I grunt, shoving my pants down to my thighs and pulling myself free. “Okay? Think you can be a good girl and cream all over my cock?”

She moans her answer, and I line up with her entrance, notching the head against her dripping center.

“Wait!” The word is garbled, and I slide my finger out slightly. “How many people have you been with?”

“What?”

“I didn’t ask the last time we…” she trails off, exhaling heavily. “But you know my number, so I think it’s only fair I know yours.”

My dick jerks in my palm, and I consider lying. I want to lie, so she doesn’t get the wrong idea.

But when I open my mouth to speak, the truth is what comes out.

“Two total.” My fingers flex around my shaft, and I grit out, “Only one that mattered.”

And none in our time apart.

The confession hangs between us, heavy with the weight of its implication.

I don’t wait for her to process, or say anything else; with a quick shunt of my hips, I sheath myself as deep inside her as I can go, turning her head so I can drink up the ensuing scream that tears from her chest.

Already, I can feel my orgasm teasing my spine, within reach if I’m not careful. Breaking our kiss, I piston into her, glancing down to watch as my cock splits her apart.

“Oh, god,” she pants, fingers scraping against the wall with each of my thrusts. “Please, Aiden, please.”

My vision slackens as she begs, scratching that impossible itch inside of me. I fuck her harder, the lewd sounds of her arousal coupling with the soft slapping of flesh, filling the air with an erotic quality I feel in my bones.

Tugging at the neckline of her dress with one hand, I dip my head and suction my lips where her neck meets her shoulder. Her inner walls flutter, and she moans that she’s close, she’s so fucking close, only stopping when I shove three fingers into her mouth.

The control I’m barely holding on to slips away as she gurgles around them, her throat convulsing in time with the gagging sounds she’s making.

When I pull back, another bruise is already starting to mark her skin. “Goddamn, you’re such a good girl, taking me at both ends. You look fucking perfect getting stuffed full like this.”

A delighted sob wrenches from her as she retches, eyes watering from how deeply seated my knuckles are, and I watch them leak the second her orgasm begins to wash over her.

“I know, pretty girl. Fuck, I know. Feels so goddamn good to be fucked, doesn’t it? To be owned?” I’m losing it, losing the last vestiges of my sanity as they break off and evaporate into her soul. “Take it, Riley. Own me. Claim me right back, and make me blow inside this sweet, filthy cunt.”

Rocking her hips back, Riley chases that release; mine charges like a bullet, ripping through muscle and cartilage. With one final, brutal thrust, I bottom out, hot cum spurting in short bursts, painting and tainting her insides.

A full-body shudder rolls over her, and she follows violently, beautifully, squeezing me so tight that I see stars for a moment. When she’s finished, she sags into my arms; I dislodge my hand from her mouth and steady her against the wall, running my fingers down her back in languid strokes.

Her head lifts, and she looks so positively fucked, so thoroughly mine, with her tear-stained cheeks and those glistening sapphire eyes, that I can’t help but kiss her again.

And again.

And again.

In that moment, out of all the others, I realize it’s not insanity that drives me to be stupid and reckless with her. It’s not insanity that brought me to Lunar Cove in the first place.

It’s obsession.

Addiction.

I’m a fucking addict.

A fiend for this pink-haired angel.

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