Chapter Text
Every time Rio sees her, stands near her, breathes in her fuckin’ air, he gets so wound up and irritated, he’s gotta find someone to fuck afterward.
It starts the night she tells him there’s no reason for him not to kill her anymore. When he finds himself deflated, finds himself agreein’ to let her buy her fuckin’ life back, he’s so furious at himself he finds himself on Jen’s doorstep at 3 am.
Jen always lets him in.
Rio fucks her against the wall, rougher than he means to be, tryin’ to lose himself in her desperate, pleading moans as she begs him to go harder, faster, deeper.
It doesn’t work.
She comes, he comes, and then she falls asleep, boneless and fucked out, and he stares at her goddamn ceiling in the dark. He feels like he can still smell Elizabeth’s fuckin’ perfume in his nostrils, like it’s seared in his memory.
After he watches Elizabeth make the money, after he tells her, “I need you alive,” when he knows it’s a fuckin’ lie—he doesn’t need shit from her, he just can’t help himself ‘cause he knows he can’t pull the trigger but he needs her to think he can—he’s so agitated that he finds the closest bar and the first woman willin’ to let him into her bed.
From there, it only gets worse.
First, he finds that he can’t get with any woman that reminds him of her. No blondes, no redheads. He goes for wraiths with dark hair, no curls.
But he still finds that he can’t stop thinkin’ of her as he makes ‘em moan with his fingers workin’ frantic against their clits ‘cause he can’t help comparin’ the sounds he elicits from them to the soft fuckin’ whimpers he could get her to make. He still finds himself rememberin’ the taste of her even when his tongue is inside some other cunt. And it’s her name that nearly spills out of his lips every time he comes.
Rio finds himself slippin’ out of unfamiliar beds to go home and jack off with her panties or her pearls clutched in his other hand.
He fuckin’ hates it—hates himself—hates her.
So he has to get more specific.
No women between 5’7 and 5’10, ‘cause Elizabeth’s height fluctuates dependin’ on her shoes.
No women with doe eyes, doesn’t matter the color, ‘cause she’s all he sees when he looks into ‘em.
They can’t drink bourbon or tequila shots, and shit, it’s not even the things she likes, but the things she doesn’t, too—which means no women nursin’ a chard or a rosé, either.
If they’re got a flower printed or embroidered or embossed anywhere on their person, they’re out.
He’s left women in parkin’ lots for drivin’ vans, and said goodnight ‘cause they carry a large brown purse.
It gets fuckin’ ridiculous, the hoops he jumps through to try and fuck her out of his system, to forget how soft her skin is, how her lips taste, how it feels when she flutters around his cock when he makes her come.
He only got inside her twice, so why was he wound this fuckin’ tight over her?
He’s gettin’ closer and closer to touchin’ her, his words are gettin’ more and more loaded, and the most he can get out of Elizabeth is wide eyes or a diverted eyeline—even after she stops bein’ so afraid of him and starts talkin’ back.
The idea of her indifference makes him slip up. He takes home a curly haired blonde from the bar one night, fucks her face-to-face instead of from behind, and finds himself demandin’ she say his name as she topples over the edge—only she calls him Christopher instead of Rio, and he’s jolted back to the reality that he’s got the wrong woman writhin’ underneath him.
He finally gets what he needs one day when Elizabeth’s wearing this tight black sweater with a keyhole that shows off just enough to make Rio’s jaw rock. It’s so out of the ordinary, so unlike her ugly li’l sweaters or her surburban mama button-ups, he does a double take, head whippin’ around so fast that she catches it immediately. Then she catches where his gaze lands, where it keeps landin’ through their whole stilted, irritated conversation, and he sees her chest pinken til he can count her freckles. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, and her lips fall open just the smallest bit, and then she looks up at him.
Eyes locked on each other, Rio takes a step closer. Elizabeth doesn’t back away.
He ends up takin’ her in the backroom of Paper Porcupine, her cheek pressed into the table with her perfect li’l hands on either side of her head, fingers splayed.
He yanks down her jeans and panties. She tries to kick them off, but Rio slips two fingers inside her so quick that she gives up, sinkin’ into his touch, whimperin’ just the way he likes with one pant leg still around her ankle.
He’s barely touched her, but she’s so wet, Rio’s cock twitches in his jeans. Now he knows that her indifference these last few months was nothin’ but a ruse. He fucks her harder, furious that she can still get one over on him. Then, conflicted, both drunk on his ability to get her to surrender herself to him and impatient to get what he needs from her, he yanks his fingers out of her with no warning, ready to fuck her properly, not particularly carin’ for once if she gets off first.
Elizabeth gasps at the sudden emptiness. Rio reaches to unzip his jeans when a strangled noise of protest gets caught in Elizabeth’s throat. She lifts her head to twist around and look at him expectantly.
“You want it?” Rio asks lowly, teasin’ her by linin’ his cock up so that she can feel the head pressin’ against her folds. At the same time, he reaches and grips her chin, pressin’ his fingers to her lips, eggin’ her on to open her mouth and taste herself.
Mouth clamped shut, Elizabeth shifts against him, eager for him to bury himself in her.
“Nuh,” Rio says, shakin’ his head. “Come on, mama. You want it?”
Elizabeth’s gaze hardens to a glare, but she opens her lips, and he slides his fingers into her wet mouth at the same time that he slides his cock into her cunt. Elizabeth sucks his fingers off, moanin’ around ‘em as he bottoms out, and he groans.
Suddenly he feels a sharp pain and— fuck —she’s bitten him? Rio wrenches his hand back from her to grip her hips with bruising force as he thrusts in and out of her with frenetic energy. Elizabeth’s bony li’l hips get slammed into the edge of the table over and over, but her moans come out jagged and rough, loud and needy. She’s not even embarrassed.
Elizabeth tries to squirrel her hand away to her clit, but Rio claps his hand over hers, slappin’ it back down onto the table with a crack.
“Don’t. Do. That,” he hisses sharply.
He needs to punish her. He needs her to feel a fraction of the same deep dissatisfaction that he’s felt these last few months.
Elizabeth flexes her fingers, frustrated, and Rio links his over top of hers, keepin’ her occupied.
He fucks her, mouth open, quick and dirty. He loses himself in her—in her tight, wet, heat—in the way his hand swallows hers on the table—in the noises he gets her to make.
He feels it comin’, and there’s a moment where he wants to make her say his name, make her say somethin’, but he doesn’t. She can’t know how bad he needs it. He says nothin’, just fucks her harder, faster, more erratic.
When he spills into her, he feels somethin’ deep inside himself uncoil, sated.
Pullin’ out of her, he exhales hotly and tucks himself back into his boxers before he rezips.
“That’s it?” Elizabeth asks, even as she’s still tryin’ to catch her breath.
“That’s it,” Rio confirms, smug as hell.
He heads to the door, leavin’ her there disheveled, her shirt all wrinkled and her pants still around her ankle.
“And don’t even think about touchin’ yourself.” He doesn’t even turn around to look at her as he says it.
This time, he doesn’t even care if she listens to him. He knows that either way, he wins.
He doesn’t give a lot of thought to what he thinks will happen next, he just sort of passively assumes—like he did after he fucked her in a dirty bar bathroom—that he’ll be able to take what he wants from her whenever he wants it.
He’s even so arrogant as to predict that, after denying her an orgasm, Elizabeth will be as keyed up as he had been, that she might even offer it. That she might even initiate somethin’. It wasn’t exactly out of her wheelhouse, after all.
Rio tries to imagine how she might do it, but she’s too much of a wildcard, too unpredictable. He never could’ve seen that bathroom break comin’, and he can’t say he was expectin’ her to invite him into her bedroom after all the tumult goin’ on around then, let alone the way that it went down. He hadn’t seen that comin’ at all, that first soft, tentative kiss, the way her hands slid up around his face, the way—
He’s wrong, though.
Infuriatingly, Elizabeth goes back to bein’ all prim and proper and repressed. Besides the fact that she’s careful not to lock eyes with him, she acts like nothin’ happened. Again.
He shouldn’t be surprised—it’s the same fuckin’ move that she pulled after the first time, but it’s like lighter fluid doused over the match stick of his agitation.
There’s more women, more beds, and more work. Rio gets tired of it fast, starts takin’ some of the women out more than once, starts fuckin’ a few of them on the regular. It’s always good—he can’t remember the last time he had bad or even mediocre sex—but it’s never enough.
He slips up again, gets a li’l drunk and sends her a text after midnight one night, asks her what she’s doin’.
It’s fuckin’ universal code for a hookup, but of course Elizabeth’s oblivious.
She writes back to say, You want me to do a job? Now?
Rio doesn’t reply.
Elizabeth never says anythin’ about it.
Rio’s simmering anger catches fire one day at Paper Porcupine when she’s ignorin’ him, waitin’ hand and foot on a dawdling old lady just to piss him off.
“We have cards for every occasion—birthdays and baby showers, of course, but we also do custom printing if you have a special anniversary or something coming up—“
“Really?” the woman asks, interest piqued.
Rio licks his teeth. He’s gonna make Elizabeth print an extra grand, just for makin’ him wait.
“I always follow the gift-giving tradition—the silver for the 25th year, gold for the 50th. Do you know about that? I feel like it’s fallen by the wayside with you young people these days… You know, all you modern working women...” The old woman sighs, fingerin’ a card in the display.
“I do know,” Elizabeth says, offerin’ the lady one of her fake people-pleasin’ conspiratorial white lady smiles. “I’m a bit of a traditionalist myself.”
“Oh! Are you married?” the woman asks, eyes bright. She glances at Elizabeth’s hand, sees it ringless.
Elizabeth can’t help herself. She glances at Rio, and then nods an “mhm” through pursed lips.
“How long?”
“Oh. Um.” Elizabeth pauses, flustered, pointedly not glancin’ at Rio this time. “Actually, next weekend it’s twenty-two years.”
Rio’s jaw locks.
“You know, they used to just say the 20th was porcelain, but now the Chicago Public Library came out with a modern list. I believe the 22nd is copper. Is that right?”
“Yep,” Elizabeth agrees tightly.
“Any big plans?” the woman pries.
“No, no… Just the usual. My husband always takes me out to The Whitney.” Elizabeth fiddles with her necklace and clears her throat.
Before he can stop himself, Rio finds his head whippin’ over to look at Elizabeth. She glances at him, and he purses his lips, turnin’ away.
“But what were you thinking of for a card?” Rio hears Elizabeth say to the lady in a faux cheerful voice.
“Oh! Yes. I’d love to make him a custom card, you know, something that complements the gift? I think he’d really like that—he used to write me these wonderful love letters, back when he was in the war… Now, it’s our emerald anniversary, so I’ll need a lot of greens…”
When the lady finally leaves, and the bell rings, signalin’ that they’re alone, Rio’s fuming.
“I need you to expand the order by an extra five grand,” he says, keepin’ his back to her as he pretends to be examinin’ a card celebratin’ someone’s retirement.
Elizabeth balks. “That’s—that’s a lot of work. I’m not sure if we can—”
“Didn’t ask if you could. It needs to be done, so get it done.” Rio finally turns to look at her, and her brows are furrowed.
“I mean—” She huffs, insulted. “When do you need it by, boss?”
He gets real close to her as brushes past her to the exit. “I’ll come to collect next weekend.”
Elizabeth’s mouth snaps shut and she blinks.
“Oh. Okay then,” she says, catchin’ on to his annoyance. She smiles, wicked, like she’s fuckin’ won somethin’.
Rio’s fingers flex against his thigh as he turns on his heel to leave.
“An associate is comin’ here to pick this up tonight,” Rio says a couple weeks later, slidin’ a small black box with a storage unit key inside across the Paper Porcupine counter to Elizabeth. “Need you to make sure it gets to him.”
Elizabeth’s isn’t lookin’ at him, though. He’s not even sure she’s hearin’ him. Her focus is squared solely on Miranda, the woman he brought in with him, a petite raven-haired twenty-somethin’ wearin’ a leather jacket over a mini-dress. Bored, Miranda picks up a few of the novelty gag gifts at the display she’s standin’ at, turnin’ em over in her hand before she sets them back down, unimpressed.
“Elizabeth,” Rio says sharply.
Jerking to look at him, Elizabeth swallows thickly and looks at him. “Hm?”
“Need you to make sure this gets into the right hands, yeah?” He says it real slow, treatin’ her like an incompetent child.
Elizabeth scowls. “Why?”
Rio cocks an eyebrow. “You ain’t really in the position to question directives, yeah?”
“No, I mean—” Elizabeth’s eyes are on Miranda again, watchin’ as she picks up some ugly glass paperweights in the shape of a swan. “Why can’t you do it?”
Rio licks his lips, glancin’ back at Miranda. “Oh, because I’m, ah…”—he drops his voice—“...all tied up tonight, y’know?”
Elizabeth’s spine turns rigid and her eyebrows pinch. She then sniffs dismissively and aggressively snatches the box from Rio’s hands. “Fine. I can do that.”
“Aw, thanks, darlin’,” Rio says, grinnin’ sardonically. “You’re the best.”
Refusing to justify him with a response, Elizabeth tucks the box underneath the counter.
“C’mon, mama,” Rio calls. At first, thinkin’ he’s talkin’ to her, Elizabeth looks up, startled. Then she sees Rio holdin’ out his arm, waitin’ for Miranda to catch up with him. He slides his hand from one side of her waist to the other across her lower back, then squeezes her hip. He turns to Elizabeth. “We’ll see you real soon.”
After that, Elizabeth tells Rio that he shouldn’t come into Paper Porcupine anymore. She blames it on his associate, pretendin’ that he drew all sorts of attention and suspicion, that regular customers were startin’ to notice that there was a certain… type … of people hangin’ around a lot.
“I’m just being prudent,” she sniffs, all proud of herself for comin’ up with what she thinks is such a clever fuckin’ lie, thinkin’ he can’t see that she’s wiggin’ out in jealousy. “These people just jump to conclusions so easily, you know… I don’t want any unnecessary attention.”
“Your people,” Rio clarifies.
“I just think we should find another spot,” she says, ignorin’ that slight, “to do drops and exchanges.”
And Rio had said “fine,” and Elizabeth had been surprised, shocked even, at how easily he’d conceded. She’d nodded, like she’d beaten him in some game, and he let her believe it.
But the look on her face when she walks into her own bedroom to see him languidly riflin’ through Dean’s side table drawer is worth it. She drops the laundry basket huggin’ her hip, and a li’l scream gets caught in her throat, just like that first time he’d surprised her sittin’ on her kitchen island.
“‘Ey now,” he says smoothly.
“What are you doing?” Elizabeth hisses, bendin’ over to pick up the few items of clothin’ that spilled out of the basket. She sets the basket on top of the dresser and notices that her pajama drawer is cracked just slightly.
Rio didn’t actually go through it—he just wants her to feel as invaded as he does.
Half the time he feels like she’s fuckin’ shattered his sternum and crawled up between his ribcage. Time, distance—none of it dulls it anymore. In the beginning, it was all triggered by seein’ her. Now he can go a week without seein’ her and still feel fuckin’ stir crazy.
Rio pulls out some cheap watch Dean’s got tucked in his drawer, assesses it. “You said we needed a new spot, no?”
“This isn’t what I meant,” Elizabeth spits.
He turns to look at her, and she’s at the armoire now, tuckin’ some shirts of Dean’s into a drawer. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as they make eye contact, both realizin’ at the same time that they practically in opposite positions from that time she led him in here and did the world’s worst strip tease, takin’ off her fuckin’ boots and her coat.
Rio turns back sharply, throwin’ the watch back into the side table carelessly. It hits the bottom of the drawer with a thunk before Rio slides the drawer closed.
“Did you—?” Elizabeth asks, but she stops herself. Glancin’ at her, Rio sees her eyes dart to her own side table.
Rio rocks his jaw, then takes a couple long strides, headin’ over to her side of the bed. Elizabeth stands where she is, frozen.
“Don’t,” she squeaks out.
Rio’s eyebrows shoot up, and, instead of pullin’ open the drawer—which houses, he assumes, what everyone woman’s side drawer does—he examines the book she’s got on top of the table next to a pair of reading glasses (she wears those?) and a folded up half-finished crossword from the paper. It’s some sordid mystery novel.
Even from here, he can feel Elizabeth brimmin’ with energy. She clears her throat, hopin’ to distract him. “I meant we should meet at, like, parks and abandoned warehouses again. Not here.”
Rio looks up at her, lips parted.
“You got a problem with me bein’ here?” Rio asks, settin’ the book back down.
“I mean—” Elizabeth says, diverting her eyeline. “I have kids.”
Rio almost smiles. “I’m aware. Thought they were in school.”
“I have a husband,” Elizabeth tries weakly. She knows it's a dumb excuse before she even finishes sayin' it. They're both thinkin' of him sittin' outside that bathroom, squarin' up a bill.
“Hmm.” Rio finds that he’s makin’ his way back over to where she is, that his feet seem to be movin’ of their own accord. “So?”
“So—it’s just—” Elizabeth stumbles over her words. He can tell she’s gettin’ worked up. “You have a girlfriend.”
Rio’s face cracks into a smile. He doesn’t correct her. “Whatchu think we about to get up to, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth blushes furiously.
“I don’t know where your mind’s at, but I’m just here to collect, darlin’.”
“Fine,” Elizabeth snaps, but at this point he’s toe-to-toe with her, and she looks up at him, eyes darting wildly. “I’ll go get your money then.”
She doesn’t move.
“What’s got you all wound up, huh?” Rio asks, reaching up and twirlin’ one of her curls around his finger. “Do I make you nervous?”
“No,” Elizabeth grits out. She’s starin’ at his lips. He knows he’s got her.
“Want me to go?”
Elizabeth blinks back up at him, refusin’ to speak.
“No?”
There’s the slightest jerk of her head, nearly imperceptible. No.
“What do you want, Elizabeth?” he purrs lowly next to her ear.
He hears her swallow.
“You’re sleeping with someone else,” she repeats again, but he feels her fingers brush against his belt.
“Yeah,” Rio admits. “That make you jealous?”
“Of course not,” she says, all haughty, like the suggestion is ludicrous, like he ain’t in her bedroom right now ‘cause she signed a moratorium on him comin’ into her li’l paper shop the second he flaunted the fact that she ain’t the only one with someone else in her bed.
“‘Cause you know you’re my favorite,” Rio whispers, burying his face into her neck, fannin’ a hot breath over her skin. And, findin’ he can’t let her think there’s just one, he adds, “None of ‘em compare to you, sweetheart.”
He feels Elizabeth’s li’l fingers slide up underneath his shirt, cold on his warm stomach—only then she takes the smallest bit of skin between two nails— and pinches.
Rio’s jaw snaps shut and he pulls away. “Oh, you wanna play rough, darlin’?”
Elizabeth looks at him with her wide doe eyes. Hungry.
“Take off your clothes and get on the bed.” She looks like she’s about to protest, but Rio cuts her off. “Now.”
Elizabeth stares at Rio for a second longer, then brushes past him to saunter over to the bed. She’s slow and deliberate, starin’ at him starin’ at her from the armoire as she works her hands over the buttons of her blouse, revealin’ more and more of that pale lily-white skin. When she slowly shimmies out of her skinny jeans, her tits bounce and Rio fixates. She catches him and he can see it, the moment she feels powerful.
Rio’s hard in his jeans. He’s gonna fuckin’ get her for this.
Once she’s down to her bra and panties, Elizabeth reaches up behind her back to unclasp the hooks.
“Nuh,” Rio says, shakin’ his head, lower lip poutin’. “Leave that for me.”
Elizabeth’s hands drop. She eyes him, fully clothed. “Aren’t you getting undressed?”
“You ain’t the one in charge here,” Rio retorts. “Get on the bed.”
Not one to break with routine, Elizabeth takes a second to consider rebelling against a direct order, then reluctantly falls in line.
She climbs up into her bed, and then, clearly unsure what to do with herself, she tries sittin’ and lyin’ in a few positions before settlin’ awkwardly into lying down flat on her back, starin’ up at the ceiling. Like she’s in a hospital bed. Or a casket.
Rio pinches the bridge of his nose, wonderin’, not for the first time, what it is about her that drives him this fuckin’ wild. Why she’s the one that keeps him up at night.
Still, he finds himself starin’ at her—takin’ all over her in—her long legs with blonde stubble that shines in the bright sunlight, the patch of curls that’s just visible through her translucent panties, the smooth softness of her bare stomach, the pebble of her nipples beneath her lace bra.
All those times he dreamed of her, imagined her, worked himself up with one of her trophies in his hand—it doesn’t compare.
“Well?” Elizabeth asks, a li’l nervous, mostly impatient, breakin’ him out of his reverie.
“Just wanted to hear you beg,” Rio says, walkin’ over to the bed and then crawlin’ on top of her, knees on either side of her legs, hands placed on either side of her head. She’s like a butterfly, caught in his web.
Elizabeth scoffs. “Yeah, right.”
“No?” Rio asks, tracin’ a finger over her lips. “You sure about that?”
Glaring, Elizabeth opens her mouth when Rio tugs down her lip with two fingers. He moistens himself on her tongue, then trails the wet fingers down the ticklish part of her stomach til he can feel her muscles bounce underneath him.
“Positive.”
“Mmm,” Rio says, lettin’ her believe it.
But then he starts placin’ gentle open-mouthed kisses against her neck, trailin’ feather-light touches down her body, teasin’ her, touchin’ her everywhere except where she wants it.
She whines. Elizabeth tries to shift, tries to grind against his hand, even tries to reach up and kiss him—but he threads the fingers from his other hand in her hair, yanks her head back down to be flush with the mattress.
“No,” he tells her simply.
He licks her bellybutton, trailin’ his tongue up to her breasts, barely pinches a covered nipple between his teeth.
He grinds his hips against hers, makes her feel how hard he is for her.
She reaches for his belt. With one hand, he grasps both of her tiny wrists and pins them above her head.
“No,” he says, firmer this time.
He lets go of her hands. He runs his fingers over the thin material of her panties, can feel how soaked they are for him. He scoots down the bed, nibbles at her stomach, bites her hip bone. He nuzzles his nose into her cunt, then takes the corner of her panties between his teeth and begins to tug them down.
“Rio,” Elizabeth pants, liftin’ her hips, helpin’ him get her naked.
“You want it?” he asks, lips on her ribcage, a single finger swipin’ lightly through her drenched folds. “You want my fingers in your cunt? You want me to fill you up?”
“Yes,” she admits in a desperate whisper.
“Yeah?” he asks, fuckin’ pleased with himself. “How many fingers you want?”
There’s a moment of hesitation, then, quietly: “Three.”
“Beg.” Rio begins suckin’ a hickie between her breasts. “Beg me to touch you.”
Elizabeth’s silent, squirmin’ underneath him.
“It’s easy, mama. All you gotta do is ask,” he prods, smilin’ wolfishly and then nippin’ at her chin.
Elizabeth doesn’t respond.
Rio begins to suck a hickie on her collar bone—a spot where he knows her dumbass husband has a good chance of seein’ it.
At her silence, he murmurs into her skin, “No? You don’t want it?”
Elizabeth pushes her hand against his face, stoppin’ him from finishin’ his hickie.
“The others ain’t embarrassed to beg, you know.” He slides a finger through her folds, just enough to get it slick with her juices, then pops the finger into his mouth, tastin’ her. “They like it.”
Elizabeth’s face turns to stone. Then: “But they aren’t your favorite. I am.”
Realizin’ his mistake, Rio rocks his jaw.
Elizabeth takes advantage of his momentary distraction. Catchin’ her hand inching down to her clit, Rio snaps his fingers around her wrist.
“Elizabeth,” he says, voice drippin’ with condescension. “I said no.”
He pins her hands back above her head, then adjusts so that he’s sittin’ on top of her, his cock throbbin’ against her cunt. He grinds into her, can feel her wetness seepin’ through her panties, leavin’ a wet mark on the crotch of his pants.
Elizabeth whimpers.
“Beg.”
Elizabeth shakes her head, refusin’ to even speak now.
With his free hand, Rio undoes his belt. Then he yanks Elizabeth’s wrists up to his chest and wraps the belt around ‘em, round and round her arms til he can secure the prong in the hole and she’s tied up and trapped.
Rio ramps up how he touches her. He shoves her bra down and grips her breast in his hand, pinchin’ at her now-bare nipple briefly before lickin’ it excruciatingly lightly with just the tip of his tongue. He trails wet, open-mouthed kisses down her stomach, lickin’ into her belly button. Then he licks up her cunt, tastin’ her briefly before he blows gently over her clit.
“You taste so fuckin’ good, mama,” Rio purrs, diggin’ his nails into her hips. “I wanna bury my cock in your pussy. I wanna fuck you til you’re clenchin’ around me.”
Tight-lipped, taunting him, Elizabeth doesn’t reply.
Rio slides three fingers into her, all at once, just up to the first knuckle. Not enough for her, he knows. Elizabeth grunts, but gives him nothin’ more. He doesn’t move, just waits for her to break.
“Come on, Elizabeth,” he coaxes, voice gravelly in the way he knows she likes. He rocks up and kisses her—finally—tongue in her mouth, and he knows he has her ‘cause she kisses him back. He breaks away from her, lips wet. “I know you know how to beg. ‘Member how you begged to be a part of all of this?”
“I did not,” Elizabeth snaps, cavin’, eyes flashin’ darkly. “I did not beg. You are such an assh—”
Plungin’ his fingers deeper into her with no warnin’, Elizabeth cuts herself off with a deep, guttural moan.
“You think—” she tries to grit out, writhin’ under his ministrations. “You think you’re so—”
“Yeah?” Rio asks, crookin’ his fingers up into her so that she gasps. “Tell me what I think, mama.”
“You’re so—you’re so—”
Rio suctions his mouth to her clit, tonguin’ at the throbbin’ red nub.
“—good,” Elizabeth finishes, keening. “Fuck, Rio—please—don’t stop. I’m close—please—no more teasing, I can’t take it—I need—I need—”
She’s losin’ her head, babblin’. Rio laughs into her cunt.
“What do you need?” he presses, swirling his tongue in the way that makes her cry out.
“—you.”
“Fuck.”
Rio tears his fingers out of her, and Elizabeth protests immediately. “No—no—no, please. Don’t—”
But Rio can’t wait anymore.
“I gotta have you,” Rio tells her, yankin’ down his pants. “Now.”
“Please,” she begs weakly. “Make me come this time—please. I can’t stand it—I want you—all the time—please—”
“You’re all I think about,” Rio confesses, completely losin’ his fuckin’ head. He throws his clothes onto the floor, surges up to capture her mouth with his. Elizabeth throws her tied up arms up and over his head, buries her nails into his skull as he fucks into her roughly.
She cries out, flutterin’ around him immediately, fallin’ over the edge.
While he fucks her with long, even strokes, Rio sucks hickies into her neck possessively, desperate that nobody else can have her. Lost in him, she doesn’t even stop him.
When she feels his thrusts get less controlled, more erratic, she interrupts his attentions to her neck.
“Kiss me.”
He does, spillin’ into her as she drags his lower lip between her teeth.
Afterward, he rolls off her, pantin’ heavily. Elizabeth sighs, content.
Rio hasn’t felt this relaxed since—
Fuck.
Since he was in her bedroom last.
“C’mere,” he says, pullin’ her arms towards him. He gently unbuckles the belt, sees the red indents it's left on her skin. He presses his lips to her wrist. Elizabeth blinks her eyes closed.
They lie there for a while, side by side, quiet, catchin’ their breath.
Rio waits for her to say her husband’s comin’ home. He waits for her to kick him out.
She doesn’t. When she finally gets up and puts on her robe, back to him, all she says is, “And don’t even think about getting back into another woman’s bed.”
Rio just grins.