by Snow, Nicole
Never has such a gentle touch felt so good, like she’s melting me everywhere she touches, and I clench my fists against my thighs and fight to hold still and let her explore.
Every time she strokes over the length of my cock, it jerks against her hand, swelling thicker, throbbing harder, until the pulse of blood throughout takes over my senses.
If she doesn’t fucking stop, I’m going to snap.
Especially when she wraps her full hand around it, enveloping me in a tight grip of body heat, and I exhale a rough gasp, dropping my hand to catch her wrist and opening my eyes.
“Slow down, sweetheart,” I rasp. “You don’t want me losing it just yet.”
She looks half guilty, half completely lost, as if she’d been so entirely absorbed in what she was doing – but she’s still got that hand covering herself. “Sorry,” she whispers.
“Don’t apologize.” I lean down over her, brushing my lips across hers. “It feels good when you touch me. I want you to like it, and I want you to enjoy being touched in return.” I ghost my hand over the back of her palm, gently nudging. “Let me. Hands off, Liv.”
She falters for just a moment, then looks away, that pretty pink blush returning as she slowly slips her hand to one side and lets me see her: all soft flesh and smooth skin, glistening damp. I run my fingertip along the very outer edge of her folds, and she rolls into my touch, her eyes sinking closed on a startled moan.
Smiling, baring my teeth, I do it again.
She barely gasps out a yes before she stops speaking entirely, whimpering as I trace my fingertips up and down, again and again, slipping ever deeper each time until wet, hot flesh wraps around my finger and sucks me into warm, gripping lips.
It’s fascinating, tempting, maddeningly arousing to learn her by touch.
How her pink pussy layers in its wetness, how she bucks and lifts her hips whenever I trace every soft slick curve, the way she throws her head back when I find her clit and gently circle it with my thumb, making her arch and shudder and moan.
I've got her on the end of a thinly-held tether.
I’m barely holding myself on my own leash.
Every cry, every tortured expression of confused, straining bliss, every scratch of her nails as she claws at the sheets just pushes this need inside me into a desperate craving. A demand.
Every inch of my body needs to know how she feels writhing and thrusting under me, convulsing and tightening, wet and slick and gripping hot against my cock. But I won't ruin this for her.
I'm not pushing her too fast, no matter how much it hurts to control myself. And when I lightly dip two fingers inside her, testing. And the moment she locks up with a frightened little whimper, I pull back.
“You okay?” I ask, reaching up to smooth her hair back from her sweat-dewed brow.
She nods a bit sheepishly. “Yeah. I just...you startled me.”
“You'll be tight your first time.” I curl my hand against her inner thigh, resting close, reassuring. “It helps to warm you up a little with my fingers.” I grin wickedly. “Or my tongue.”
Her eyes widen. “Your tongue?!”
“Let me show you.”
Her questioning sound trails into a tortured moan as I slide down her body and part her thighs, taking my first taste of her. She’s scalding hot on my tongue, yet so sweet I can hardly stand it, the lusciousness of her flesh yielding against the slow, probing licks and strokes of my tongue is more than I ever could have asked for.
But even better is her reaction – going wild against me, clutching her fingers in my hair, gasping “Riker, Riker!” as her thighs grip at my shoulders and her hips undulate and squirm and every part of her clenches and clutches and tenses real sweet.
I torment her with flicks against her clit, then lick her clean as every bit of stimulation makes her soaked, drenching her skin with more of that perfect-smelling wetness. And when I dip my tongue inside her, searching deep...
Fuck me.
She loses control, gasping out hoarse, husky, needful cries, wrapping her legs around my shoulders, painting my lips with her wetness as her body arches and thrashes in gorgeous chaos.
I stop, resting on my elbows to just watch her as she slowly comes down. Her eyes slip open, staring dazed at the ceiling. “Oh,” she whispers breathily. “I’m sorry.”
I can’t help laughing warmly. Of course.
Of course Liv would apologize for that. Turning my head, I nuzzle her inner thigh, deliberately dragging my beard against her sensitive flesh just to feel her shudder. “You've got nothing to apologize for, love.”
She bites her lip. “But I was trying not to...”
“I wanted you to come.” I press a kiss to the inside of her knee. “It helps. You’ll be more sensitive so it'll feel better. Plus, it's hot as fuck when you go off, little rocket.”
She smiles, batting her eyes a couple times. “So...it's going to hurt?”
I push myself up to hover over her, fitting our bodies together gently – letting her feel me, the weight of me, my cock resting against her thigh and her belly. Leaning down, I kiss her, tasting her uncertainty, trying to soothe it with soft touches.
“It’s natural for it to hurt the first time, but everyone’s different, and it might not hurt at all. I’ll be gentle, sweetheart.”
“Okay.” She sighs and slips her arms around me, twining her fingers against my nape and offering me the most lovely smile. “I trust you, Riker. I always do.”
Fuck. She knows how to break me with the simplest things.
Here I am, trying to rein myself in because I want to cherish her, treasure her, make this just right for her, and she’s tearing me apart with these simple words. I capture one of her little hands and press my lips to her palm, then settle her fingers against my shoulder once more.
“Hold onto me,” I breathe, “and remember you can stop me any time.”
Liv nods, watching me with those wide, trusting eyes, her fingers curling a bit tighter against my neck and back. I catch the underside of her knee, stroking down the satiny sheen of her thigh and then up again as I spread her open, lifting her up just enough to open her sweet cunt for me.
The slightest nudge of my hips and the tip of my cock presses to her entrance.
Damn. She’s so hot, so wet, so everything, I almost lose control right then.
She keens softly in the back of her throat and shifts against me, her nails biting into my skin. There’s a trembling moment when I can’t move. When I’m completely overwhelmed by her, before my body takes over and I just can’t resist.
I try to go slow. I try to be gentle, but the moment I feel her parting around me and that heat enveloping me, I come close to losing my senses.
Clenching my teeth, straining with everything in me, I ease in slowly, letting her get used to me, but she’s clenching tight and shaking underneath me and raking her nails down my back, and every point of sensation is scoring through me and branding her on me body and soul until I’ll never forget her in this moment.
Liv is more than magic. She’s fucking intoxicating, and I’m drunk on her, drugged on her, completely consumed as I sink into the depths of her body.
She’s making soft, whimpering sounds in the back of her throat, turning into a low cry as I seat myself fully inside her.
“Shh,” I soothe, cupping her cheek, kissing her trembling lips. “Relax for me, sweetheart.”
She makes sounds that aren’t quite words, but then kisses me so sweetly, and slowly her body relaxes around me, accepting me, welcoming me deep into her body.
When I move, it’s like gliding through pure silk, stroking in and out of her slowly, relishing every fold and plush wave of flesh rolling and caressing around me, licking at my cock until I throb inside and out.
“Fuck, Liv,” I growl, finding my rhythm, beginning to pound her into the mattress.
Her arms fold tighter around my neck. I fuck her good and deep, loving how she whines, how her brows crinkle, how her eyes sta
rt to roll under their lids in pure rapture.
This is how I claim this sweet, young thing.
Even if it destroys me.
My balls churn, all fire and dark, possessive need. There's a crazed, magnum-hot vision where I bury myself deep and shoot off in her cunt. Where my seed sinks deep, finds its mark, and binds her to me forever.
Fuck, I can't let that happen. Even if every irrational, animal thing in my flesh wants a fuck that will end both our worlds. Even if some snarling, psycho thing inside me wants to breed her tender pussy.
When she starts to move with me...that’s when I break. When she rises up to meet me, finding a perfect tempo, until it’s not me and not her but just us, together – that’s what destroys me.
That’s what makes me lose control, until I fall into her, fall into fire, fall into the perfect wonder of pleasure and emotion and pure, maniacal need.
I fucking need her.
I need her more than I can even comprehend, and it takes me over so completely, I couldn’t stop myself from coming if I tried.
“Liv!” She's a roar in my throat as I bury myself to the hilt, her pussy tenses around me, and I'm gone. In the zone. Combusting.
She’s there with me, legs around my waist, lips feverish over mine, and I taste my name on her lips.
“Riker!”
One word turns my spine electric, bathes my brain in fire, and my whole fucking body comes unscrewed. I just bury myself in her with a growl, sinking my teeth into her bottom lip, coming so hard it's bruising.
We both go crashing over the ledge to bottomless ecstasy.
We fall to pieces together.
* * *
I don’t even remember falling asleep.
We’ve worn each other out fairly well by the time the night takes on the stillness that comes before dawn, and I suppose I must've dozed off after spending myself for the...hell, I’ve lost count how many times she’s gotten me off.
I couldn't tell you how many times I've left her dizzy with every gasping, needy, convulsion. How many times I've ransacked her sweetness, and taken her cherry for life.
We barely stopped our fuck fest to grab something to drink, and to have a quick conversation about her birth control before falling into bed again, chasing each other through climax after climax, again and again.
She's that amazing.
And as the first trilling calls of birds pull me drowsily from sleep to study Liv’s gently snoozing face, I wonder how I'll ever let her go when this assignment is done.
Is it wrong to hope she doesn’t want me to?
There’s something about this woman. Something strange and terrible and magic, and it’s woken something inside me I thought was dead, but that I know now was only sleeping.
Just waiting for me to give it enough light and warmth to wake the hell up. My own personal monster.
Because if I were a good man, I’d feel shame right now. Guilt.
I don’t, and I don’t know how I could ever call this feeling inside me bad when it feels so right, so clean, so pure.
None of which changes the fact that she’s a client, her life's in danger, and she’s quickly becoming my daughter’s best friend.
Never let it be said that I ever take the easy path.
I brush her hair back behind her ear. I don’t mean to wake her.
I just can’t resist the softness of her skin, the relaxed bliss on her face. But she stirs drowsily, I guess she wasn’t as deep asleep as I thought. With a catlike little yawn, she scrunches her eyes up, then opens them, blinking up at me slowly.
She says nothing at first. When her eyes clear, it’s with a frank and stark awareness of the position we’re in: bodies tangled so close, naked skin on skin, addictively entwined and holding each other close beneath the light layer of a summer duvet.
She ducks down a little, peeking at me with a shy yet pleased smile. An infectious one I'm a sucker for but return. “Hey, sweetheart.”
“Hey yourself,” she whispers back.
“You okay?”
“Ah?” She blinks, looking confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You know why.” I don't say it. Fuck, I don’t even know how I’m more flustered about this than her. “I was your first. That's gotta mean something. Heavy shit.”
She brightens. “Oh, that!”
I almost laugh. Next thing I know, I’m hugging a bundle of lovely young woman as she nearly throws herself against me, wrapping her arms around my neck and burying her face in my chest.
“It wasn’t uncomfortable at all. It was really nice. Really, really freaking nice.” She angles her head enough for one coy blue eye to catch mine. “Nice enough that I wouldn’t mind doing it a whole lot more.”
“Brat,” I growl, jostling her gently. “Aren’t you sore yet?”
“Isn’t being sore part of the fun?”
This time, I do laugh. “Irreverent little monster. Get some sleep. We’ve got all day to sleep in if we want.”
“Mmhm.” She snuggles into me, yawning again, and we both close our eyes, but I open mine again as she asks, “Riker?”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe when we’re back in San Francisco...could we go on a date?”
“A date.” I arch a brow. “A real one?”
She nods quickly. “No, pretend. Of course a real date!”
“A date,” I echo. “Me and you.”
My brain needs a few seconds to compute what the fuck is happening.
Her playfulness slips away, leaving a quiet, wistful sincerity as she looks up with solemn eyes. “I’m asking if you want me and you, period.”
That’s a hell of a question.
One I can’t just answer, rolling off my tongue like it’s nothing. This could be a temporary thing, just making the best of a bad situation. We have a little fun, then part ways when it’s over and hope Landon never finds out or he’ll kick my ass up and down the entire western seaboard.
Or, I could admit to myself the earnest, open hope in her eyes speaks to something inside me. That terrible, magic thing that’s been starved so long for something more.
“I think I do,” I answer slowly, carefully. “But I need to think about it, Liv. I don’t just make decisions for myself anymore. You understand that, don’t you?”
“I do.” With a gentle smile, she pushes herself up and kisses me gently. “I promise I do.”
Somehow, that quiet acceptance makes my gut sink.
Everything I know about Liv says she’s always been raised to put others above herself, and even now she’s doing it again. And while I do need her understanding, need her to respect that it’s not so easy for me with a daughter to think of...it bothers me knowing Liv would put herself aside, anything she wants and feels, to do what she thinks is right by me and Em.
Sure, it's part of what makes her amazing. Still doesn’t mean it's right to just discard her feelings, her desires, as if they never mattered at all.
The better this gets, the more fucked up it is, too.
I feel like I’ve just complicated her life more, instead of making it better.
But I can find a way to make this work. I know I can.
To balance these lives, to give everyone the attention and care they deserve, and to treat Liv as if she’s worth being first in someone’s life, in mine, without neglecting or sacrificing my daughter.
So I offer her a smile.
“Then it's a deal. Soon as I’m sure you're safe, back in San Francisco...” I steal another kiss, savoring the liquid-soft warmth of her lips, before promising, “We’ll go on that date.”
11
A Little Date (Olivia)
I don’t think Riker actually knows what a date really is.
And I might almost be offended, if I wasn’t having so much fun.
Riker wouldn’t tell me what he had planned for our time out. Not for the rest of the weekend at Milah’s, and not for the entirely weird, surreal drive back home in an actual armored truck convoy with ev
ery member of Enguard armed to the teeth, geared up in flak jackets, and on constant alert.
That night, when Riker told me he’d found the perfect place where he was absolutely certain he could keep me safe, I didn’t know what he meant. And that man keeps secrets like a vault – just a long, knowing look and an enigmatic smile and not a word.
Even on the drive here today, when I was poking his arm and pinching his sleeve, he was dressed for a date.
A crisp, expensive pinstriped linen button-down and these slacks that do things to his angular hips that make me bite my lip. He just grinned like the cat that got the cream, telling me to be patient and stop being a brat, I’d know soon enough.
If any other man called me a brat, I’d be hurt or angry.
But Riker...Riker says it with a sweetness that says he knows damn well I’m poking him for attention, and he’s okay with it. Because he knows it’s just us being playful and warm, and there’s nothing bratty about wanting to tease the man you like.
Like?
Is that all this is, just like?
I’m still wondering that when Riker pulls up outside a long, flat concrete building, nondescript gray with a fenced-in field beyond, divided into lanes and with...targets on the far end?
I blink, tilting my head, peering at the sign over the glass double doors before sucking in a breath.
“A firing range?” I ask, staring at him wide-eyed.
“A firing range,” he says. “I teach here on weekends sometimes, and do firearms certifications. Since you’re so interested in learning to take care of yourself, I thought you should learn how to handle a gun.”
I bounce in my seat, clapping my hands together. “You mean I get a gun of my own? I like the one James has. It’s really sleek and stylish.”
“Uh.” Riker actually recoils, staring at me, his eyes wide. “Hell no.”
“Why not?”
“Because you like the sound of it too much!” he splutters, half-laughing, yet his eyes are almost horrified. “Look at you, woman. Your eyes are practically glowing. Had no idea you were such a violent little beast, Liv.”
