Bad Blood

Part Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Riker was imploding, control was all he had, and she'd realised that and kicked him off a cliff. And now? Now he was free-falling.

She'd returned for the bar with another beer and was talking to a group of guys across the terrace from him. He himself was batting off the attentions of several amorous women, he could take anyone of them home, to the bathroom, shit he was sure that one of them would do anything he wanted there, with an audience. But he didn't want any of them. His body craved that vixen across the way from him, laughing so genially, lighting up everyone she spoke to.

His body, not his mind he was quick to remind himself.

The thought that he couldn't do what he wanted...well it was new and he wasn't sure how to deal with it. He looked at the beer in his hand, he definitely needed his wits about him, so he put it down and headed inside to the bar for a glass of water...a better option.

Still, he couldn't walk out into the group gathered with a glass of water, whether it really was the peer pressure the media talked about that made him not want to lose face, or just the image he portrayed, but he drank two pints of water at the bar, then grabbed another beer. Just for show.

As he made for the steps back to the terrace, a sense of deja vu swept over him, as a hand wrapped around his wrist, and pulled him into a dark room.

"Fuck, Princess. What are you doing?" He knew it was her, instantly.

"It's a cupboard...somewhere quiet.." He couldn't see her as it was pitch black, but he could feel her.

"You screwing up traditions, Princess? I'm sure there's a bathroom next door."

Then he felt her lips against his jaw and as he dropped his mouth to find hers, she murmured against his lips, "I am not dropping to my knees in a scummy bathroom."

And like a match being struck, he went from interested to desperate in a split second, just about managing to mutter an expletive as his lips devoured hers, ravenously.

As she demolished his mouth with the most desperate kiss, she fumbled with his belt, it was still pitch black, and whilst he loved the brushes of his fingers against his stomach, his groin, his rock hard cock, it wasn't enough, he wanted to watch, see her reveal him, watch her mouth encompass him.

"Find the light," he rasped against her lips, and she merely laughed.

"You men, it's all about the visual, us girls, we like the sensual. Haven't you got that yet?"

His eyes rolled to the back of his head as his shorts parted and she shuffled his boxers down, cool air to rather aroused nether regions made for hissing of breath, obviously.

Then one hand was there, gripping him, tongue still in his mouth, the other securing his head to hers, and she was circling him, sliding her fist over him, moaning into his lips, enjoying it as much as him. And she was right, lack of sight seemed to heighten his other senses, and it was amazing. His lips literally lapped her up, his skin tingled, the moans, the breath, the smell.

Shit he was never going to last, then her lips left his, her hands left his body and he reached out to find her, but to no avail.

Then he swore to people he never knew existed as her lips fastened around him and she took him into her mouth.

He needed to see those lips, swallowing him, those eyes staring up at him, then she swirled her tongue and his eyes closed. She was right, the visual wasn't needed when she was massaging his balls with one hand, and directing him down her throat with the other.