Chapter Four

Sasha

It hurts.

Of course, it hurts.

Tears swarm to my eyes as my breath catches in my throat. It's finally happened.

I choke back a sob as the realization settles in.

Finally.

It hurts more than anything I have ever felt before, and the pressure, the feeling of fullness is immense. But there is also pleasure. Some of it from the thrill of going against my good girl image, but also . . . from being with Riot.

He is big, this man. Strong too. He steadies me on his bike with his massive arms, almost as if I weigh nothing to him. He is perfect, a freaking god with his strength and powerful presence.

The way he smells of leather and whiskey . . . Christ, the whiskey on his lips tastes a hundred times better than it did coming straight from the glass.

It's because it's him that it feels so good despite the pain.

"You're a virgin."

His voice is rough and pained as he pulls back to look at me. There is something akin to regret in his eyes when they lock with mine, and I gulp at what I read in them.

"You're a virgin," he says again, more to himself this time. Almost as if he doesn't believe his own words. I watch with confusion as this usually self-assured man suddenly becomes hesitant, and I am half afraid that he'll put an end to this, but that feeling doesn't last long as something fiery settles over his expression. "Did I hurt you, Sasha?"

I shake my head, burying my fingers in his hair and moving a little to test the pain, which has dulled to a small throb. "I'm fine."

"Fuck, baby, I didn't know," he grinds out, dropping his forehead against mine. "You deserve better than to have your first time in some parking lot. Forgive me, angel."

"It's okay. I want this," I whisper, and just to assure him of the fact, I rock my hips gently, pleasure shooting to the tips of my toes when my clit grazes the base of his manhood. "Oh!"

Heat flares in his expression at the move, and I watch as something feral blooms in his eyes. Heaven above, he looks so sexy with his eyes narrowed on me like that, nostrils flared with need.

With his gaze locked on mine, Riot grips the back of my knee and pulls out of my trembling sex before sinking his giant erection back into my drenched sex, tortuously slow. "Fuck," he curses through clenched teeth. "I wasn't ready for this, baby. You're so fucking tight. I should be a better man and stop. Take you somewhere, but . . ."

A shudder racks my body at the feel of his thick manhood pulsing inside of me. The strain in his voice is a clear indicator of the fact that the man is holding himself back, which is the last thing I want. We've already made it this far. I don't want him to stop.

I don't want him to hold back.

This rough, confident, chaotic man . . . I want to see him come apart.

For the rest of my life, when I finally settle down with whichever boring politician my parents choose for me, I will remember this moment, this man whose eyes are so dark and fierce that they remind me of predator's in the wild.

"Take me," I tell him, rocking gently against him and feeling myself grow slicker with arousal. "Please, Riot. Take me."

That is all the man needs to hear as he starts thrusting into me, slowly at first before he picks up the pace. His fingertips dig into my skin as he starts working his hips faster and harder into me, making need build up in my core. I bite back a moan when his hand moves to my breasts, pinching my aching nipples over the thin material of the dress.

"Oh God," I cry out, throwing my head back and moaning needily as he pumps his rigid cock in and out of me, his breathing growing labored with every hard thrust into my sex. In my haze of pleasure, I catch the distant sound of people approaching, so I lean in and kiss him, letting him swallow my moans as I do the same for him.

Good God, I can't believe I am doing this here, and yet, this is exactly what I want. What I need.

"More, Riot I need more," I breathe against his lips, causing him to shudder against me.

I whimper when he pulls out of me before spinning me around to face his bike. He presses my shoulder and bends me over his bike before sinking his cock into me again, the new position sending him impossibly deeper.

Oh God. Oh fuck!

The slapping sound of our bodies coming together fills the empty parking lot. Or at least I hope it's still empty, but I'm too far gone to bother looking around. I cry out when he holds me steady so he can drive his shaft into me and fill me, and it's all I can do to not scream. It feels so freaking good, and I never want it to end . . .

As though hearing my silent plea, Riot digs his fingers into my skin and thrusts his cock faster and faster into me until I am bucking against the bike. Pleasure erupts within me with every drive, but all I can do is cling to the bike and take his heavy cock, feel the caress of his calloused, fingers, and hear his pleasured groans as he comes apart against my back.

My heart clenches painfully at the thought of this being a one off, but I block it out, unwilling to taint this perfect moment with thoughts of a future I cannot control.

"Riot . . ." I breathe when I feel myself teeter on an edge that feels so close, and yet, so far.

"It's okay. I've got you, sweetheart," he says, dropping his hand between my legs and stroking my clit in rough circles, ones that send fire roaring through my abdomen. I whimper as he strokes me faster, his thrusts becoming frenzied.

"Oh God, so close, Riot . . ." I chant, digging my nails into his bike's seat and no doubt tearing at the leather, but I can't stop. The pleasure building in me is a cord threatening to snap and send me into oblivion. When, at last, it does, I feel like I'm coming apart at the seams.

I climax with a harsh cry, my knees nearly giving out as wave after wave of pleasure rocks through my body. Riot slams into me harder and faster before he stills, roaring hoarsely as he shoots ropes of hot, sticky seed into me, rutting me hard until he's spilled every last drop deep inside of me.

He wraps his arm around my waist to support me, pulling me back against his chest. "Mine," he rasps into my neck, causing my breath to catch. His voice is rough and dazed, so surely, he doesn't truly mean it.

Of course, he doesn't.

He just met me. There is no way he would lay claim over me so soon, but even knowing the truth, I let myself imagine what it would be like to belong to this man.

Snap out of it, Sasha.

This will have to be enough. It's more than what I ever imagined I would get. No one will ever believe that little Alexandra Sasha Greenwald gave her virginity to a dangerous biker in some parking lot.

It will be a treasured secret to hold in my memory.

"Thank you," I whisper, straightening my dress and leaning down to grab the purse I'd dropped, then digging around for some wipes. It's certainly not the most ideal, but at the moment, it's all I have.

Riot doesn't say much as I clean up the best I can, and when I turn to face him finally, my cheeks are hot with embarrassment and uncertainty. I wince a little at the soreness I feel when I move, something I should have considered when I was begging him to take me harder, but I wouldn't change anything about what we did.

"Why did you thank me?" he finally asks, brushing my hair from my face and running his eyes over my expression. "I shouldn't have taken your virginity here. You should have told me."

"I don't care—"

"Well, I do," he tells me. "You're a beautiful girl, Sasha. Beautiful inside out and deserve to be worshipped and loved in beautiful ways and beautiful places."

His words render me speechless. It's unexpected, hearing them come from him, and the effect they have on me . . .

No, I cannot afford to develop feelings for this man.

I would be dooming myself to a life of pain if I do because I know I can't keep him, and yet, I can't help myself. When he says something like that or holds me close to him, kissing me softly and affectionately, what is a girl to do but fall for the rogue?

"Riot . . ."

"Next time, I'll make love to you the way you deserve."

There will be no next time. Tell him, Sasha. Tell him that after tonight, you'll never see him again.

"Okay," I whisper instead, sighing contentedly when he wraps his massive arms around my shoulders.

"Now let's go get you something to eat," he says, pulling back from the embrace and grabbing a helmet. "I only have one today, but I'll get you one of your own." He slides it over my head before snapping it into place. He straddles the bike and motions for me to follow. I climb up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist.

Usually, I have an aversion to trying new things, seeing how I always get into accidents, but I trust Riot. As crazy as it sounds, I know I am safe with this man.

"Are you okay, Sasha?"

God, his voice. It's so deep and warm, slowly making it hard for me to forget that I can only have this for a single night. I can only be a reckless twenty-one-year-old for one night.

"I'm all right," I tell him, dropping my head on his back as we tear out of the parking lot. I catch a glimpse of a couple making out not far from the spot we were earlier, and my cheeks flare at the thought of them hearing us.

Perhaps we even fueled them into getting it on with each other.

I smile at the thought, reveling in the feel of the cool night air brushing my skin. The night is crisp and the city lights twinkle like stars above us. I notice the shadows dancing on the buildings, the full moon, everything passing in a blur. The moment is peaceful, and as the quiet of the night envelopes me, I feel a sense of calm.

Riot mentioned that the food truck was close by, but it takes us about fifteen minutes to get there, and I point this out to him when we stop.

He flashes me that self-assured smirk as he guides me into a line. "I may have detoured a bit. You seemed to be enjoying the ride," he says, placing his hand on the small of my back.

"Oh, it was a smooth ride. I've always seen the motorcycles around the city, but I never imagined I would ever get on one." I'm glad I did tonight.

"Happy to be your first," he says, and from the smug note in his voice, I know we're not talking only talking about motorcycle rides anymore.

When it's finally our turn to order, I look up at the menu hung on the truck and chew on my lip. I hate to sound like the spoiled rich girl whose never been out in the world, but the truth is, it's not far from the truth. So much has been done for or handed to me in my life, but only so that no one has to bother with me. I might be spoiled, but I'm rarely trusted to make my own choices. Now that I'm finally living independently, that has changed a bit, but my life still revolves around school, work, and family. I only really go out when my attendance is demanded by my parents for some function or other.

"Would you like my help picking something?" Riot whispers into my ear, sending heat licking up my body.

"Please," I tell him. He did pick my cocktail. What was it called again, a Shirley Temple? And I liked that one.

"How are you with spice?" he asks, crowding my back, and I gasp when I feel the firm press of his erection against my ass.

"I can handle a little spice, not too much."

Riot nods as he turns to the bearded man at the counter and names a variety of dishes I should perhaps pay attention to so I know what I'm eating, but I can't look away from Riot. In the clear light, his chiseled jaw is a thing of beauty, but it's those eyes . . .

I notice something I hadn't earlier. They're gray, the kind of gray one sees in the sky on a stormy afternoon.

"Do you need anything else?" Riot asks, his eyes shifting to mine, and it takes me a second to process the fact that he is speaking to me.

"No, uhm, no."

"Okay, good." I watch him take out his wallet and pay for the meal before grabbing the boxed food. I follow him away from the truck to an empty bench. My stomach growls when we open the box, and a part of me wants to save face, but I am starved. "Dig in," he says a little too late with a chuckle at my full mouth.

I don't know what I was expecting from an establishment on wheels, but it sure was not this. My eyes widen to saucers as flavors explode in my mouth. I don't even care to ask what it is I am eating as I stuff my face with one thing after another, and the embarrassment doesn't settle in until I am full. "Sorry," I say, my cheeks flushing when I catch Riot watching me. He hasn't had a single bite of his food.

"It's pretty refreshing, seeing this side of you," he tells me, reaching over and brushing his thumb on the side of my lips. "You are a fascinating girl, Sasha."

I duck my head and turn to look around us, watching other couples seated on the benches, eating and laughing, and I have the sudden wish that all my nights ended with way.

It's impossible, I know, but a girl can wish.

When I turn back to look at Riot, there is no ignoring the deep ache filled with longing that settles inside of me, and it stays for the rest of our time together. And later, when he drops me off at my apartment, I hug him a little longer than I probably should.

Unlike Cinderella, I'll only have this one night to live out my fantasy. Riot is no prince, and my life certainly isn't a fairytale.