by Snow, Nicole
The way Liv dodged my suspicions before. She wasn’t hiding anything to do with the Pilgrims.
She was keeping her sister’s secrets, trying to protect the family she loves.
“Is this what you haven’t been telling me?” I ask softly.
“Yeah.” Liv lowers her eyes, staring down at her knuckles. “Milah’s trying so hard. She just doesn’t need the world to know she’s still struggling. All her fans rallied behind her when she opened up about her problem a few months ago, you know? And she doesn’t want to let them down. She’ll get there. She will. If she trips a little on the way, it’s her business, and no one else’s.”
She’s so earnest, in her belief in Milah. Even after everything Milah’s jerked her through, Liv’s still there, still saying she can do it, I know she can. And the only thing for me to say in response is, “You’re right.”
It’s not my business.
Not to judge, not to tell.
All I can do is support Liv, and it stuns me down to my core to realize that I want to.
That I want to be the one to hold her up while she’s struggling to carry everyone else.
She looks up at me with her eyes so clear and startled, as if she’d expected everything but those two words. “Thank you, Riker,” she whispers, her smile radiant. “Thanks for looking after me.”
“You don't have to thank me.”
“No?” A bitter note enters her voice. “Do you have any idea what life's like growing up with someone who doesn’t respect even the smallest hint of your freedom? Who makes all your decisions for you? Do you know how it feels when someone suddenly does respect even one tiny thing that you might want? My own freaking father...he's why this happened. Everything that's bad for Milah, and for me.”
Before I can answer, she pushes away, still shaking her head. It’s so abrupt I let her go without realizing it, and she tumbles out of bed, still clutching her hands to her chest, carefully held away from her skin and nightgown. She swallows hard, then offers me a wan, tense smile.
“Sorry,” she whispers. “Let me go wash this off. Who knows if absorption through skin contact is a thing?”
Then she’s gone, disappearing into the attached bathroom.
I’m left lying there, cocaine dusted on my chest, staring after her and wondering just what the hell is happening right now.
I don’t know if she’s upset, angry, or happy.
I don’t know if I want to protect her, get her as far away from me as possible, or tear that flimsy nightgown off and devour her from the inside out.
I listen to the sound of running water from inside the bathroom.
Have to close my eyes when she emerges, a dripping wet towel curled in both hands, and splatters of water all over her gown. The little babydoll nightie was already translucent, but now it sticks to her in transparent spots that make me want to seal my mouth over them and suck every bit of moisture from her flesh.
If I open my eyes, I won’t be able to look away.
Fuck, even with them closed, she’s seared on my vision. Every dark spreading stain of water branded on my mind’s eye.
The splash over her left breast, molding over the upper curve in that plush, perfect swell leading in toward her nipple. The soaked spot against her stomach, just below her navel, sealing fabric to her skin and drawing my eyes to the temptation of her panties, swooping low beneath the subtle curve of her belly and leading down to the lush flesh making a warm, inviting mound against creased fabric.
What would that pussy be like under my tongue?
Would it burn right down with her clit in my teeth?
Would it come real sweet, even sweeter than she moans?
“Riker?” I hadn’t heard her footsteps, but her voice sounds closer, almost to the bed. “Here. So you can – oh!”
My eyes snap open at that cry.
Just in time to watch her come crashing down onto the bed.
Fuck. Her ankle, it must've –
Everything in my brain cuts off, short circuiting, as the wet towel slaps down coldly in the center of my chest...followed by a much, much warmer body, tumbling down on top of me.
Instinctively, I catch her arms to steady her, before I freeze, my entire body locking up with painfully intense awareness of hers.
It's not Liv's ankle at all. It's not a mistake, a misstep.
I couldn't mistake what's happening now for my life.
Her tits are soft wells of heat pushing against my ribs, nipples hardened, wrapped in silk and stroking in twin points of fire over my skin. Her stomach rests over my hips, yielding to the growing, hardening rise of my cock, her slim, soft thighs anchored along my legs.
She pushes herself up with a stammered apology.
Then she freezes as the position makes her legs slip to either side of my hips. I’m not wearing much, just a pair of loose, thin cotton pajama pants, and she’s wearing even less...and suddenly it feels like pure skin-on-skin when her panties drag against the painful hardness of my cock.
It’s like tissue paper on fire, and yet no fire could ever be this wet.
She’s been so quiet, so subtle, I hadn’t even realized until she’s straddling me, pressing down, and soaking into the fabric separating us until we’re slicked together and I have to hold my breath against the thick, sweet scent of her – or else I’ll turn into a complete fucking animal.
More of a beast than I already am, I should say.
She’s breathing slow, but shallow. Like she’s having to control every one, holding perfectly still, her hands braced against my stomach.
Neither of us move as the towel slides slowly off my chest and crumples to the sheets against my arm. I can’t tear my gaze from her, and her eyes are locked on mine, seeming to beg me for something, a silent shivering plea building in the trembling tension between us.
I realize I’m still holding her arms, trapping her on me, and loosen my grip.
“Sorry,” I force out, throat dry.
But before I can fully pull my hands away, she curls her hands against my forearms, just below the elbow, brutally insistent.
“Don’t be, Riker.” Soft, breathy, and trailing into a hitching, agonizingly erotic sigh of my name as she shifts tentatively against me and her panties make a soft, damply rasping sound as warmth slides over me enticingly, through me. “Riker, please.”
Fuck. No one’s said my name that way in years.
No one ever should say my name that way, when I’m so pent up I could explode and this snarling, furious creature inside me that wanted to protect Liv is now throbbing with the need to possess her.
I can’t breathe. Can’t speak. Can't think.
It’s all I can do to hold still when my cock strains toward her, pulsing between us, and if I move, I’m going to do something we both might regret.
When she looks at me with such gentleness in her gaze, despite how young she is, somehow I feel as though she’s the wiser one.
The one who knows what she wants, and who knows what I’m thinking, what I’m struggling with, without me having to say a single word.
It’s in her smile, in the way she leans, in the way her voice softens and warms with quiet, coaxing understanding.
“It’s okay,” she says. “Whatever this is, I feel it, too.” She smiles faintly. “God, right now it’s the only thing I can stand to feel. Everything’s so wrong with all of this. My sister, my Dad, these people trying to kill us. Make me forget. Even if it's just for a few amazing hours...”
When she reaches out, I grab her wrist, fisting it. Her eyes widen and another lightning strike coils through me.
Wrong is the biggest understatement on earth for all this. Damn if it means I'm going to be able to stop, what's taking on a life of its own as I search her near naked body. “Liv...”
She doesn't care how strained her name sounds on my lips. She just smiles.
Little minx. Must know this is nothing but a one-way express ticket to hell, but fuck if the ride isn't worth it fo
r one night.
My grip loosens.
Her fingers trail up my chest, stroking, seeming to awaken every dormant nerve ending she touches. Then there's just a stark awareness of her skin, of mine, of everywhere we come in contact.
She bows over me, her hair tumbling down over her shoulders to curtain us both, trapping us in our own secret darkness. Her delicate fingers find my throat, then stroke up through my beard, into my hair, making me quake with a groan.
She presses her lips to my jaw, and leaves sensations like droplets of burning rain melting into my skin as she trails kisses up toward the corner of my mouth.
“You’re the only thing that feels right,” she whispers. “Is it so wrong to ask you to feel right with me?”
It’s completely fucking wrong, and she knows it, but damn if I can even hope to remember why. “Liv...”
“Please.” Shyly, she kisses the very edge of my mouth, a flirt and a promise and a tease that only makes me crave the real thing. “It doesn’t have to be real. It just has to be right now. Can’t we have one thing that feels good?”
It doesn’t have to be real.
I don’t know how to tell this beguiling little slip of a girl that for me, it’s already real.
That every time I’ve tried to push her to the edge of my world, it’s not her I’ve been fighting.
It’s myself. The instant, insane pull I felt the moment I saw her face looking up from that dossier photo and knew that Olivia Holly was someone I needed to protect with all my heart and soul.
If I thought this could hurt her, there's no way I could ever give in. But when I realize how much she needs this – a kind touch, a moment of comfort, a night to forget, to lose herself in passion and fire – and that the only one who’ll end up hurting is me...
“Liv. Fuck.”
I curl my hands against her hip then and tumble her back, rolling over to spill her to the bed half-against me, beneath me, our legs tangled and her curves fitting perfectly against my edges.
She makes a startled sound that trails into a shivering gasp as I curl my hand against her hip and stroke over the sheer fabric turning smooth skin into silk, my thumb dipping in to trace the line of her panties along the crease where her thigh meets her hip.
Her lashes lower in a demure sweep, her eyes averting as she starts to reach for me, then stops, pulling back and curling her hands against her chest, her lips parted on words that don’t come.
She’s so sheltered. So new. And I realize, from those shy, hesitant reactions, so virgin.
“Sweetheart. Have you ever –”
That actually prompts a laugh, and her blush is the most enticing thing I’ve ever seen. “Am I that obvious?” She tucks a skein of her hair behind her ear. “No, I’ve never. But I want to. With you.” The look she gives me is the kind that could shatter a man. “I trust you to make me feel safe, Riker Woods.”
That’s one-part terrifying – but also exhilarating. Entirely arousing.
It’s not her youth or her purity that turns my blood hot. It’s the faith she has that I won’t hurt her or turn her first time into a bad memory. It's knowing I can rock her world, shake the dirt off it, make it shine and burn and come undone until it's as beautiful as the rest of her.
I have to fuck this girl.
It’s the choice she’s making to trust me that seals it, when I’m not even sure I trust myself.
“Liv, yeah,” I snarl her name, capture her mouth, tasting her gently and savoring how delicately she opens for me.
It's a kiss made for flirting, teasing, brushing flesh, dipping tongues, testing and exploring and slowly slipping deeper and deeper. Her moan spills in my mouth like warm molasses.
With every moment that passes, she melts beneath me, until we’re sinking into the bed together in a tangle of quickening heat.
I crave her so much, every damn swipe of my fingers on her body, but I make myself hold back, keeping my hands against her back and hip, holding her close, until the moment when I bite at her lip just to test her reaction.
Then she arches against me with a full-body moan, pressing close and trembling, her nipples peaked hard against her nightgown and pressed against my chest.
Carefully, I slip my hand up over her waist, stroking her warmth, caressing her shape, until I can curl my fingers against her round tit. Her flesh is so soft it spills over my fingers, heavy in my palm, its weight making my cock throb.
But it’s nothing compared to the sound she makes when I flick my teasing thumb against her nipple.
Liv stiffens, a soft, breathy cry escaping, her hands clutching at my forearms.
I can’t help drinking in every tiny reaction, watching her eyes go darker, softer, hazier as I circle her nub with my thumb, kneading her flesh against my palm, feeling every hitching shudder that goes through her as her cheeks flush hotter.
“Any time it’s too much, sweetheart,” I whisper, “any time you need it slower, you say.”
She licks her kiss-swollen, beautifully red mouth and nods, her chest heaving with shallow, audible breaths that turn ragged every time I flick the hardened peak of her nipple again. I can’t believe this gorgeous, fey thing wants me. Wants to be owned by someone older and broken and battered like me, scarred inside and out.
If I’m her choice, I’ll make damn sure she doesn’t regret it.
I steal another soft kiss, a promise to her. Then I slide down her body, savoring her sleekness sliding against me, and take my first taste of her.
First through the sheer fabric of her nightgown – closing my mouth over the nipple I’ve teased and tormented to sensitivity, wetting the fabric and taking deep, hot pleasure in the feeling of the hard little bud rolling against my tongue.
She sucks in a startled gasp, her fingers hot on my shoulders, gripping and kneading, but she doesn’t stop me. She only writhes as I tease and torment her, making these delicious little heated sounds in the back of her throat, like she’s trying to hold back but just can’t help herself.
I want – no, need – more of those sounds. Need to see her undone.
Can’t stop from dragging that flimsy, sheer little nightie over her head and baring her naked flesh to my lips, my touch.
She’s delicate, yet lush.
Tiny, yet made entirely of flowing curves, her thighs supple and soft, the subtle swell of her belly calling below the narrow dip of her waist, her tits full and heavy and pale, moving like liquid against my gripping palms and tipped in cherry pink as sweet as her lips.
This time, when I take one in my mouth, it’s pure skin against my tongue, rough and luscious and making my mouth water with pure greed. I'm ready to devour her.
Every time I suckle harder at her nipple, she gasps, arching, raking her nails over my shoulders and driving me to do it again and again. She makes me frenzied with the way she moves under me, her body like silk against mine.
I can’t stop tasting her, nibbling her, like I’m trying to relish her down to the very last bite, and suddenly I want to taste more than just skin. I want to taste that alluring, tart-creamy scent drenching the air, rising off her flesh.
One bite at a time, I taste my way down her body, leaving gentle marks that nonetheless vent the sense of possession inside me, animalistic and hungry.
Her panties are as sheer as everything else she wears. The teasing hint of her pussy that's visible just past the silk arouses me even more, my cock straining and wild and aching against my pajama pants.
But this isn’t about me right now. It’s about her.
About making sure she doesn’t regret this, doing everything I can to make her feel beautiful, sensual, completely overcome. I want to ruin her sweetness so hard she's too numb for a single self-conscious thought.
She makes a low, protesting sound as I hook my thumbs in her panties and draw them down her thighs. Her hands fall to cover herself, cupping over the warm, sweet place between her thighs, and I can’t help but smile as I toss her panties aside.
I kiss her quivering inner thigh, then bite down lightly.
Just enough to feel her flesh yield against my teeth. Just enough to make her jerk, one of her hands flying to her parted lips.
“You nervous?” I ask.
She swallows hard, her eyes wide, and nods. “Well, I’m naked...”
“And beautiful.” I shift, propping myself up on one elbow, then catch the waist of my pajama pants and pull them down so I can kick them off. “We're even. Now I’m naked, too.”
Liv immediately slams her eyes shut. “Riker!”
Laughing softly, I nuzzle at her stomach, just below her navel. “You’ve never seen a naked man before? I don’t believe that. Not unless you’ve never been on the internet.”
“That’s different!” she squeaks, but there’s a subtle undercurrent of laughter in her voice. “It’s not...it’s not you.”
“So I’m special somehow?”
She bites her lip. “You know you are.”
Fuck. My dick jerks, pounds pure madness, overcome with raw want.
“Then show me, sweetheart.” I push myself up over her, kneeling between her thighs. “Open your eyes and look at me.”
Shyly, she peeks one eye open, then the other. It'd be funny if I weren't so ready to fuck her.
The flush in her cheeks deepens as she just looks at me, and the way her gaze drifts over me is like the touch of soft fingers against my skin, until I can feel it in sharp jolts all down my body.
Her eyes dilate, her tongue catching between her teeth, as she traces over my chest, down my stomach, my hips...my cock, resting against my stomach, harder than it's ever been in my life.
She reaches out, starting to touch my chest, then pulls back – but I catch her hand and gently press her palm flat to my chest.
“Do it,” I whisper. “It’s okay to touch me.”
Tentatively, she lays her fingers on my chest, stroking me like I’m a great animal whose pelt needs to be tamed. Then lower, and my gut tightens as she trails her fingers in slow, exploring swirls over my stomach, my hips.
Lower, lower...until her fingertips graze along the length of my cock, and I have to grit my teeth, closing my eyes and fighting to hold back the growl in my throat as my hips jerk forward.