Shit. Was love some kind of advanced stress response? If so, I was a medical oddity.
“I promise,” Riggs said solemnly. He pressed a kiss to the tip of my dick… then he sat back, pulled my hip to roll me, nudged me onto my hands and knees, and exposed my ass to his curious gaze.
Oh. My. Fuck.
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re fucking gorgeous, Duchess?” Riggs growled, kneading my ass cheeks, pulling them apart.
In point of fact, many men had. But I wasn’t sure I’d ever believed any of them the way I did with Riggs.
“You make me so fucking hard, baby. I need to get you ready. Need to open you up so I can take you hard. Make sure you remember every second of having my cock inside you. Wanna bite that ass. Wanna kiss it until it knows exactly who owns it.”
I’d almost swear he was muttering to himself, a stream-of-consciousness kind of thing that just so happened to be the filthiest dirty talk I’d ever heard. My cock was so hard it was painful, bursting with the need to come even though he wasn’t close to being inside me yet. I felt his warm breath flutter against my hole.
I looked over my shoulder. “Riggs, I need—”
Riggs leaned in and brushed his flat tongue over my sensitive opening, and my brain flatlined.
“Jesus fuck!” somebody yelled, and I was pretty sure it was me.
Riggs moved his hand between my spread legs to grab my cock, his big fist jacking me perfectly in time with the flicking and sucking of his mouth, and my elbows wobbled at how fucking good it felt. My hands fisted in the bedsheet, yanking it away from the corners of the mattress.
But I needed more. I needed everything.
“Riggs,” I chanted. “Riggs, Riggs, Riggs, Riggs.” And like his name was some kind of magical incantation, he redoubled his efforts, working my cock, using my precum to help his fist glide faster, and working his mouth over my ass. He speared his tongue into my hole, and I started babbling, cursing, praying to whole pantheons of gods for him to give me his dick.
“P-please,” I cried. “Oh, Riggs. Please.”
Riggs pulled back and bit my left cheek so hard I was confident it would bruise, and then he slapped the place he’d bitten—one single whack that made me whimper.
“Give me your hand,” he commanded, and I brought one hand behind me while I supported myself on the opposite forearm.
He guided my hand to my ass. “Hold yourself open for me, just like that,” he demanded, his voice wrecked with lust. “Don’t move a single muscle. “
I didn’t. Couldn’t. It was too good, and I wanted more. I was dimly aware that I’d be horrified when I remembered this—Riggs fully dressed and me completely naked, out of control and keening from the need to come. But in the moment, that just made it hotter. This Other Carter—the Carter I could only seem to be with Riggs—was shameless in his pursuit of pleasure, and I liked it.
“Fuck, Carter. Fuck. You’re so goddamn perfect.”
I heard Riggs throw off his clothes and rustle through the medical backpack. A second later, a stream of cool lube trickled over my ass. My hips bucked against the air, and I needed both arms in the mattress to keep my balance.
“Come on,” I begged, pushing back against him. My leaking cock bobbed against my stomach with every movement. “Inside me. I need…”
He spread the lube over my hole, his fingertip catching on my oversensitized rim, and I cried out again. “I think we already established that I know what you need, Doctor.”
Yes, he did. Yes, he really fucking did.
He fingered me open for what felt like days, until he had three fingers inside me and I was rocking back against him with every thrust. “Mother of God,” he muttered, curling his fingers to brush over my prostate and make me yell. “Carter, you are…”
“Dying,” I said hoarsely. “Riggs, I need you—”
“Yeah, I think you do,” he said incomprehensibly.
I heard the crinkle of foil, then Riggs’s hands were back on my ass, pulling my cheeks apart. The blunt head of his cock pushed at my entrance, breaching the ring of muscles there, and suddenly the entire focus of my consciousness was on that one small area and the very big invasion it was currently undergoing.
“Ohhhh,” I moaned, reveling in the pleasure-pain of it, in the fullness of it, in the rightness of it.
I tried to fuck back against him, but Riggs wouldn’t let me, because he was a bossy know-it-all that way. Instead, he held my hips and entered me slooooowly, every inch interspersed with a kiss to my back or my shoulder or a few quick strokes of my cock, no matter how often I shouted for him to go faster.