Interview With An Assassin 11

::ELEVEN::

His voice, no more than a deep hoarse whisper, from directly behind me. “Riddick..” I try to cover the shakiness in my voice, but it’s been so long. His hand reaches out to touch, stroke, my hair, stilling me, keeping me from getting up. Melt into his touch, feeling my knees weaken, his breath shaky, fanning past my ear. We stay silent for what seems like forever, to cover our shaking voices, our need. A deep inhale, breathing in the scent of my hair, my skin. Letting it out slowly, as though not willing to give up the smell of me so soon. The deep rumble of his voice, right against the skin of my ear, a tremble at first, before it evens out.

“We’ll be here longer than we thought. I went a little faster than I should have, on the way back, damn near blew the engine. Miss me, baby?”

That last said with a smile in his voice, the answer obvious. His hand slips down to my shoulder, keeping me where I am , as he moves around the couch, sitting on the very edge. The warm heat of his thigh touching mine. Leaning over me, loving the feel of his hand playing with my hair, his fingers running over the edge of my ear.

“Yes, I missed you.” I hate that my voice is shaking so much, but I can’t seem to stop it. Bite my lip hard enough to hurt, until he traces his thumb over the bow of my lower lip, making me stop. Lifting my chin to him, our noses just touching. The arrogant smirk on his lips tells one story, but the intensity in his eyes tells another. He missed me too.

“How long have you been waiting for me?”

“Forever..”

Reach up and kiss his nose at that, the both of us instinctively avoiding kissing, knowing we’ll both be lost, not wanting to give up this closeness, this waiting, just yet. Cupping his jaw in my hands, so we can just look at each other again. The hard whisper of stubble under my hands.

“How long have you been waiting HERE for me?”

“I got in a little over half an hour ago. I started without you, you’ll never get the stain out of that shirt. Have to get you a new one.”

A low chuckle, not so much a laugh as a low staccato purr, the arrogant smirk deepens. My lips skate over his, the softness of his mouth still comes as a surprise to me, no matter how many times I’ve kissed him. The purr deepens to a growl, his breath hitching slightly, the hand in my hair tightening. Our foreheads just touching, breathing in each other’s breath. If there are any other sounds in the room, we wouldn’t know, wouldn’t care. Arch my back up, to touch my chest to his, just wanting to touch him, to tell myself I’m not just dreaming.

“I missed you so much, Riddick. Next time I go with you.” I don’t care that my voice is shaking. He sits up just enough to pull his shirt over his head, throwing it on the floor. Resting into me again. Taking my hand in his, kissing my fingers, eyes closed, breathing in the scent of my sex, now dry, on them. Placing my hand over his racing heart.

“No more talking, Ava.”

His voice hoarse and ragged, torn in a way even our most heated exertions couldn’t achieve. One last look, our noses just touching again. He could never say another word to me, ever. That look would tell me everything. Arch up to kiss him, not caring if it does push us both over the edge.

The heat of the kiss is something that never fails to amaze me. Riddick kisses like he’ll never get to kiss again, as though nothing else exists at that moment, but him kissing me. Pressing my hand over his heart, as though I could even think about moving it, before sliding his hand over my jawline. Feeling his heart race under my hand, as his lips brush mine. Our soft shared moan, as our tongues touch, almost shyly at first, before tangling in each other.

His free hand traces over my ear, stroking my neck. His palm skates over my collarbone, his thumb resting in the hollow of my throat for a moment. A caress over my breast, a squeeze, before pulling at my, his, shirt. Expertly opening the front hook of my bra, releasing my breasts. A groan, a growl, his kiss deepens. Hot breath fanning my cheek as he pulls at a nipple. His calloused fingers working it to a hard peak. His hand rests over my heart, for just a moment, his kiss faltering.

“Ava……”

Just a whisper, his lips barely brushing mine, a slow blink over mercurial eyes, the whisper of lashes.

“Riddick…”

Lost again, the kiss harder, moaning into each other, the muffled sound spurring us on. One last caress over my heart, before sliding his hand back over my side, not lightly this time. Possessive, staking a claim, fingers spread, to span as much of me as possible. Deep animal growl, his hips fidgeting next to me, as his hand slides through curls. A quick trace of a fingertip over my clitoris, before sinking deeper, wanting wetness first. If his heart beat any harder it would burst.

“You’re so wet, baby.”

“I’ve done nothing but think about you since you’ve been gone.”

A deep growl of appreciation, satisfaction. Two fingers slick back wet lips, playing with the edges with his fingertips, teasing himself, teasing me. Sliding deep, all at once, flicking and pressing my clitoris with his thumb. His just being here, talking to me, touching me, already has me so close. Stroking deep, gliding along the upperside, pressing, fingers curling. Press on the outer swollen bud with every stroke.

The both of us panting hard now, no longer kissing. Leaning back, just a little, noses not quite touching. He loves to watch me come. He won’t have long to wait. The pressure of his hand too much and not enough at the same time. His hand in my hair keeping me from arching back away from him. My eyes close, as much as I’d love to keep watching him. I’m not in control over this anymore. The strokes are faster now, the pressure on my clitoris, inside and out, harder. Arching up into his hand, my breath in short plaintive cries, the scream dancing at the edge of my awareness. An act of will, open my eyes. I don’t need to say anything, he knows what I like. His lips drop to my ear, his voice a sound that races straight to my core.

“Come for me, Ava.”

Orgasm by itself is inevitable. This is something more. A gift given. Just one of many I intend to offer tonight. His hand presses hard, holding, as I arch up, letting my scream loose.

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