Raw Bloody Power

Chapter 30

30

FATAL ATTRACTION

Rio

Bang, bang, bang!

I slam a fist against the steel door at the back of the building like a madman, mentally willing it to open on its own. It’s late, a quarter past nine, and there’s a bible of reasons why I shouldn’t be here, I know this. But the proverbial wall I built between us hasn’t suffered a crack you can simply patch up and ignore.

No, it’s crumbled to ash, leaving the wreckage of our past billowing in plumes of blackened dust, claiming everything its path.

There’s no going back now.

And I don’t fucking want to.

“Dasch, if you forgot something, you should’ve just called me. I would’ve brought it ov…” The door swings open, revealing an amused Ivory with whisk in hand. Said amusement shifts into surprise when she realizes I’ m, in fact, not who she thought, golden eyes widening. “Rio! What are you?—”

I’m on her, effectively dissolving the remainder of her question. My hands go straight for her ass, kneading and squeezing as I crash our lips together and kick the door shut. Ivory squeaks against me but I don’t miss the way she locks an arm around my neck, keeping the batter-covered whisk away from us.

“What are you doing here?” she asks again, though it’s a mumbled rendition against my demanding mouth.

“Long ass day. Too much shit going on. Need you.” That’s all I’m giving her. I’m not here to talk. I did enough of that today alone. I just need her. To be buried so deep inside her, I can’t think or give a fuck about anything else except the way she molds to every single inch of me and swallows me whole.

Her pussy is my therapy.

In a way, it always was. I just wasn’t as fucked up back then, untarnished by the innocence of youth, free of the stress of adulthood and nefarious obligations that come with stepping into the role as heir of a mafia throne.

“We can’t keep doing this.” She says as much, but she’s not doing much to fend me off.

For every one of my steps forward, she takes another willing step back until the steel table halts us dead in our tracks.

“Yes the fuck we can,” I growl ‘cause I’ll be damned if she thinks we’re stopping this—whatever it is—now. It’s too good.

Too insanely right .

Stealing a hand beneath her white t-shirt, I give a hasty yank to the cup of her bra, spilling one of her tits free. Again, not a boob guy, but Ivory’s? Fuck me, man. I love them. They’re so damn soft, full and heavy, and somehow fit perfectly in my hand—as if they were meant for my touch and my touch only. My thumb grazes her nipple, shooting a sharp breath of desire down my throat.

Ivory volleys her head in realization, simultaneously pushing me away and pulling me closer. “No, we can’t. Rio, we have to st?—”

Tugging and rolling the rigid peak earns me the ammunition I need. “That moan says otherwise. Give it up.”

“I’m serious, we can’t keep doing this shit. You know we can’t. This is crazy.”

“We can, we are. Accept it and move on.” Her jeans are next. First the button, then the zipper . I’ve got them halfway down her legs and her onto the table before the next inevitable protest makes its way into existence.

“Rio…”

I drop to my haunches. “Ivory…shut up.” I’m two seconds away from removing her shoe when I take note of it, dragging my gaze up to her gorgeous face with a curious, amused brow. “Crocs?”

“They’re comfortable for work, okay?” she fires back in defense, heat trapped beneath her cheeks.

“Cute,” I chuckle, flinging the pink thing off without a fuck to spare. The other follows with a similar foamy thump, then her pants.

The sight of her thighs bare and now doubled in size nearly knocks me off balance as I rise between her legs. And don’t even get me started on the soft roll of her lower belly. She’s perfection. In every capacity. I groan zealously, almost growling, the need to feel every square inch of her at once more than I can bear.

Hate doesn’t exist here, our past—both distant and recent—irrelevant. Only her and I, that’s it, and the need to press pause on the world around us while we feed this monster of an addiction—over and over again.

I want to eat her alive.

That damn whisk is still in her hand, chocolate cake batter dripping in globs onto the table, prompting me to grab it and toss it haphazardly into the bowl not far away before reclaiming her lips. She doesn’t fight me this time, melting into me as our tongues engage in a heated duel.

“What kind of black magic have you done to me?” I exhale into her mouth. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Old habits die hard,” she pants, tilting her head back for me as my lips start down the delicate curve.

“Clearly. Got me out here losing my goddamn mind.”

A hum, but she doesn’t return the sentiment. Instead, a breathy, “Rio, the windows” breaks through the silence around us.

“What about them?”

“The lights are on. Anyone can see through.”

“I don’t give a fuck. Let them watch.”

The whole block can tune in they want. I’ll give them one hell of a show. Offer some inspiration and maybe fix some marriages while I’m at it.

“Rio, no. Please.” She tries to stop me as I’ m working the t-shirt over her head. Tries being the operative word. “We have to stop or at least…let’s go to your car.”

“Can’t. I came on the bike.”

“A bike!” Her voice rises several octaves. “Like a friggin’ pedal bike?”

This girl.

“No,” I laugh. “Like a vroom vroom bike. You know, a sports bike? A crotch rocket?”

“Oh fuck.” Her palms fall flat to my chest, demanding a pause, those lustrous ambers fusing with my browns. “You have a bike?” My head bobs, widening her gaze like tea saucers. “That’s…stupidly hot.”

I grin, but forego commenting and quickly unhook her bra instead. The damned thing ends up somewhere behind us with the rest of her clothes. “I’ll take you for a ride after.” I’m two seconds away from tonguing a nipple, hands greedily cupped around her tits, lifting them to my mouth when she stops me— again.

“Rio, the lig?—”

“Oh my God, Ivory, if I turn them off, will you quit your bitching?” I hiss in frustration.

“Maybe.” She smashes her lips together, clearly holding back a smile.

It’s infuriatingly adorable.

Just let me have you already…

“Do not move, do you understand me?” The lack of a response rouses the instinctual need to cut off her air supply and force one out of her. My hand flies to her neck at lightning speed, fingers digging into the sides of her throat as I lure her closer. “Do. You. Understand me?” A nod follows as she blinks up at me beneath long, dark lashes, curling the corners of my mouth. “Good girl. Where’s the switch?”

“By the back door.”

A peck to her lips and I’m moving, my strides quick and purposeful as I traipse the short distance and drown the kitchen in darkness with a slam of my hand. Only a sliver of moonlight pours in from the small window above the sink, illuminating the way back to her.

“There. Better?”

“Yes,” she says softly as I situate myself between her legs again, her palms stealing beneath the hem of my t-shirt, guiding the material up my body.

I reach over my shoulders and pull it off the rest of the way, toss it carelessly. Probably looks like a laundry bomb went off behind us. “Then lay the fuck back.”

“Why?”

“Jesus fuck, Ivory. Do you have to question everything?” I growl, dropping myself into her breathing space, our lips millimeters apart.

“No. I just thoroughly enjoy pissing you off.” Hooking her arms around my neck, she reels me in the rest of the ways, her legs locking around my waist.

I can’t subdue the smile that forms under her assault as I slowly lay her flat against the steel surface. “You’re maddening, you know that?”

“You secretly love it.”

“Maybe I do,” I whisper. I definitely do. There’s no denying it. “Stay still for me…”

She does, surprising the absolute fuck out of me. I expected another question, a rebuttal, anything, but she doesn’t move so much as a finger, watching in heated fascination as my mouth begins its descent.

Down her neck.

The valley of her breasts.

Her stomach.

Every few inches my tongue joins the party, too, yielding those little mewls and moans I love to hear. When I arrive at my destination, the fucking holy grail between her lush thighs, I waste zero seconds before diving in. Pulling the whatever colored fabric aside, I run the tip of my nose right through her pussy lips and inhale deeply. My mouth waters. “Fuuuck me, I forgot how good you smell.” My tongue retraces the same path. “How good you taste.”

Ivory moans and arches slightly off the table, earning herself a swift slap to her clit.

“I said lay still.”

Another moan, louder still when I pin her thighs down and suck the sensitive bud between my lips. A symphony of pleasure breaks through the silence as I savor every inch of her cunt. Tangy, a little sweet, a hint of that feminine musk that drives every man batshit crazy; it’s heaven and I’d gladly die here. Doubling my efforts to bring her to the edge, I alternate points of attack at exactly the right moment. Flicking my tongue against her clit here.

Rolling it between my lips there.

Sucking on it in between.

“Rio,” she mewls. “Oh, God, it’s so good. Please don’t stop.”

I hum against her wet skin, my ego inflating immeasurably, and add two digits to the mix, crooking and caressing the spot she needs most. All the while, my cock’s screaming beneath my jeans, straining against the zipper as if trying to break free. He wants in, to be hitting the same spot my fingers are assaulting.

I do, too, but the need to make her come first and foremost is indescribable.

Need, not a want. I need her to come. Need to feel her clamp down around me and drown me in her cum. Suffocate me between her thighs. Crush my skull from the force of her grip.

“Come on, Petal,” I grunt, coming up for a small pull of air. “Come for me.”

Ivory squirms under my ministrations, the delicious curves of her figure quaking in my hold as I suck on her clit and fiendishly devour her pussy. I’m so far gone in the moment, almost manic in my quest to hear her scream for me that I don’t feel the rough tugs to my hair as I reach up to play with her nipples. Pinching them, rolling them between my fingers, tugging them.

That does it.

She floods a little, too.

Fucking titty play wins again.

“Rio,” she half pants, half moans, full-on rolling her cunt against my tongue. “I’m gonna come. Right there, right there . Don’t stop…”

I wasn’t planning on it.

Speed, precision, intent—I rally everything in me into a hyper-focused overdrive, keeping both the momentum and angle exactly the same. Gentlemen, take notes: when she tells you she’s about to come, that doesn’t mean switch up your strategy. She’s literally giving you the playbook.

Keep.

Doing.

What.

You’re.

Doing.

I can guarantee she’ll be screaming your name in the next minute.

Like clockwork, on that final crook of my fingers, Ivory shatters into a million pieces. Back arching off the steel surface, a jumbled mess of my name, ‘I’m coming,’ and a string of expletives tumble off her lips. It’s glorious to watch; how her chest heaves, the way her tits rock, the shake of her legs as euphoria violently rips through her.

Even better? The mewl of disappointment when I withdraw completely and rise to full height, her cum coating my mouth, dripping down my chin. It’s like music to my goddamn ears, melding with the jingle of my belt as I finally free myself from the confines of my jeans and pump it teasingly. Stares fused through her comedown, I lick my lips for one last delicious taste and yank her to the edge of the table by the ankles.

“Rio!” she squeals, giving me one of those sexy as fuck giggles as I pull her upright and lunge for her mouth.

“See how good you taste?”

Ivory hums, lapsing her tongue against mine for a single stroke…and then she’s blowing my fucking mind, slowly licking her way up my neck, then my chin, savoring herself like one of her desserts. When our lips meet and I can taste her all over again, I almost lose it entirely.

“Dirty girl,” I muse, helping myself to two handfuls of her ass, pressing her flush against me. “You’re looking to get properly fucked, aren’t you?”

“Mhmm.” That’s not her only answer, though. She follows that up with a small hand sealing around my cock, guiding the angry fucker where we both want him most. “Hard as fuck. Don’t hold back on me, you hear me?”

Say less, baby girl.

Without warning, my palm touches down on her face in a somewhat gentle yet all too purposeful slap, the pads of my fingers digging into her cheeks, forcing her eyes on me. “Then look at me while I bury my cock inside you like the little slut you are,” I demand, easing the tip in and right back out.

That sound she makes in that moment…Jesus-fucking-Christ. It’s a cross between a laugh, a moan, and a whine of approval as she holds my stare like a vise. I wait just a second longer, high on the anticipation and how she trembles in need.

A need for me, one only I can sate.

That knowledge alone multiplies my already asinine obsession with her, reminding me that while I could’ve brought her an inch of her life just weeks ago, tormented her for far longer, we still would’ve ended up here .

Wrapped up in one another.

Lost to the undeniable connection.

It’s like the Universe worked so damn hard to tear us apart, only to realize how badly it fucked up as I wreaked havoc on everything in my warpath for vengeance, and decided to force us back together.

There’s no escaping this shit.

A singular thrust and I’m in, sliding home, filling her until I bottom the fuck out. Ivory gasps profoundly, eyes widening as her nails scrape the back of my neck.

“Again. Do it again,” she begs.

“What?” Repeating the same motion, I pull out to the tip and slam back in. “ This?”

“Yes.” Her head drops back around a ragged moan, but it’s momentary. Interrupted by something. “ Oh…oh, what the fuck?” The last bit hoists one of my brows as she rights herself and lifts a hand into the light.

“What is it?” I’m curious as hell, frozen inside her heat.

“Cake batter,” she titters softly. “Get me that tow?—”

Quickly seizing her wrist, I suck every finger into my mouth one by one and lick her clean, never once breaking eye contact. Fuck a towel. “Mmm, chocolatey. Not as good as you, though.”

Nothing could ever be as good as her.

No one.

The way I end up painting her guts with my cum not twenty minutes later proves as much.

We can fight the good fight until the very end, resist and run ourselves in circles. Doesn’t change the goddamn facts.

She’s mine.

I’m hers.

The-fucking-end.