Little Lamb

37 ❦ doll survivor

༺❦༻

I'm on the verge of sitting up and licking his abs, my body still trembling from everything that just happened, and the thought of it made me feel like I was losing my mind.

My whole body was on fire, and the ache inside of me hadn't completely faded. I was breathing hard, too tired to move, and yet the way he was looking at me like he couldn't get enough of me was driving me crazy.

"You got such a messy pussy, Lola," Riggs said, his voice a low, satisfied growl as he glanced down at the wet pool I'd left on his pants.

I felt my breath hitch in my throat, still too dizzy from everything to even respond right away. I tried to look away, but his eyes were locked onto mine. Damn him, I thought, for making me feel this exposed, even when I wanted to hide.

I swallowed hard, still not fully recovered.
"It just... it felt so good," I smiled.

Riggs smirked. "Yeah? You wanted it just as much as I did. Made a mess of yourself."

He reached up to his lip where a faint smear of blood marked where I'd struck him. He pressed his thumb to it. "You're fucking dangerous. You got me good."

My face heated up as I slid off him, fumbling for my shirt and pulling it over my head, trying to steady my breathing as I felt his eyes on me.

Just as I finally managed to look at him, he leaned in. "How about we take a little walk tomorrow?" His lips twitched. "I'll give you a little reward, something just for you. For being so good."

I blinked, caught off guard. "A... a reward?" I managed, frowning in confusion, but I couldn't stop the small smile tugging at my lips. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Guess you'll find out."

He reached down to grab his shirt, tugging it back over his head, the hard lines of his muscles disappearing beneath the fabric. I could still see the faint bruise where I'd slapped him, and it was strangely satisfying.

He glanced at me, his mouth set in a half-smirk. "I have to go. I got work to do."

"Right..." I tried not to sound disappointed, but it must've slipped out because his smirk deepened.

"Try not to make too much of a mess without me," he murmured, that dangerous glint in his eyes as he tossed one of those pretty winks

And just like that, he was gone, slipping out of the tent without another word, leaving me there with an ache still burning low in my stomach, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

The tent felt emptier, colder, with him gone, and every nerve in my body was painfully aware of it. I wanted him back, his heat, his hands, the way he made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered. I wanted to pull him back in, make him stay, drag out every intense second just a little longer.

Why didn't I just take his pants off and fuck him? He'd been right there, sprawled out beneath me, practically begging me to cross that line. Every part of him was open, vulnerable, and somehow, in that moment, he'd given me the control.

He was so desperate and sexy, that cool, teasing exterior slipping just enough for me to see the hunger in his eyes. I had him had him wanting and waiting, letting me push him for once. And instead of taking him completely, I'd held back, too wrapped up in my own hesitation.

A frustrated groan escaped my lips as I pressed my hands to my face, trying to settle my own nerves. Every bit of me felt restless, raw. I just need him inside me, I thought, clenching my thighs in a poor attempt to calm the need that was clawing at me. I couldn't get him out of my head, couldn't shake the feeling of his hands, his mouth, his voice when he told me I'd been "good."