Chapter Text
Agatha reached up and pulled Rio into a kiss, because God, she needed it.
All day, the thought had clawed at her—relentless, unbearable —that she had pushed Rio too far. That the woman she loved might not come back to her, that she might never feel Rio’s lips against hers again.
But Rio was here.
Still here.
That fact sent a tremor through Agatha, one she couldn’t contain.
And the moment her lips found Rio’s, Agatha sighed with relief into her mouth. Her grip tightened on Rio’s shirt, needing something to hold on to, needing her to hold on to.
The kiss wasn’t like the others.
Rio’s lips moved against hers with a softness that stole the air right out of Agatha’s lungs. For a moment, Agatha didn’t know how to respond—the tenderness was so unfamiliar. This wasn’t the kind of kiss they typically shared, the ones that burned hot with passion and defiance, where they pushed and pulled, each daring the other to surrender.
No, this kiss was different.
It was quiet.
It was careful.
And it was filled with something deeper—something fragile, precious, and impossibly tender.
Agatha let out a shaky breath into Rio’s mouth, as the realization struck.
This kiss didn’t feel like just forgiveness.
It wasn’t just reassurance.
It felt like healing.
Every brush of Rio’s lips against hers, every slow, unhurried slide of their tongues, felt like a careful mending of the fractures Agatha had caused between them. The fight from that morning, of course, still lingered like a shadow between them, but this—this kiss—felt like they were molding themselves back together piece by piece.
Agatha’s chest ached, the weight of it pressing down on her ribs. It was relief and longing, regret and hope all wrapped into one, and it was almost too much. She clutched Rio’s shirt tighter, grounding herself as the kiss deepened, as Rio poured steady reassurance into every movement of her mouth.
Rio’s hands stayed on her face, warm and steady, her thumbs still brushing lightly against Agatha’s tear-stained cheeks as though to remind her: I’m here. I’m not leaving.
And for a few moments, they stayed like that—pressed close kissing gently. Rio held her like she was something precious, something breakable. It was soft, tender, and everything Agatha didn’t know she needed.
But as the minutes stretched on, as Rio’s body pressed against her, pinning her gently against the countertop, something inside Agatha shifted.
She loved the softness.
She needed the softness.
But now?
Now she needed more.
Because as much as Agatha loved the tenderness, the careful way Rio kissed her, she needed the heat, the urgency, the wildfire that had always been them. She needed the spark that burned so hot it threatened to consume her entirely.
Agatha tilted her head, deepening the kiss as a quiet hum escaped her throat. Her hand slid down to Rio’s hips, fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt before tugging her closer— closer —until there wasn’t an inch of space left between them. Her good hand gripped Rio’s hip possessively, her fingers digging in just enough to leave a mark.
“ Please ,” Agatha whispered into Rio’s mouth, her voice low and needy.
The effect was immediate. Rio’s body tensed for just a moment, as though the word had hit her like a physical touch. Then, with a low exhale, she kissed Agatha again, deeper this time.
Agatha let out a quiet sound again against Rio’s mouth—something between a sigh and a whimper—as the kiss deepened, slow giving way to something hotter. Rio’s lips moved with more purpose now, coaxing and demanding all at once, and Agatha gave in, meeting her with every ounce of pent-up emotion she felt all day.
The heat between them ignited, spreading through Agatha’s veins like wildfire. Her hand slid up to the back of Rio’s neck, fingers tangling in her dark hair as she tugged, needing her closer , needing to feel her everywhere .
The second she pulled, it was as though the last shred of control Rio had been holding onto snapped.
Rio’s hands gripped her tighter, her touch becoming firm, possessive— hungry. Her teeth caught Agatha’s bottom lip, a sharp bite that had Agatha gasping, before Rio soothed it with the slow stroke of her tongue.
Agatha shivered at the contrast, her knees suddenly weak as Rio pressed her harder against the edge of the countertop.
The bite of the marble dug into the base of Agatha’s spine, but she didn’t care. Not when Rio was kissing her like this, her body fitting against hers perfectly, like she belonged there.
That familiar coil of want tightened low in Agatha’s stomach—the kind of want that made her ache to shift their positions, to reverse their roles, to push Rio back against the counter and take her right here, right now. She wanted to fuck her on every surface of the damn house until the only thing either of them could think about was each other.
But then Agatha’s casted hand shifted instinctively around Rio’s back, and— damn it —the flare of pain shot through her wrist, a dull throb radiating up her arm. Her fingers—the ones she frequently favored to fuck Rio with, were trapped in the cast and a frustrated huff slipped out of her mouth against Rio’s lips.
Rio stilled immediately, her body still flush against Agatha’s, her breathing heavy as she pulled back just enough to search her face.
“What’s wrong?” she murmured, her voice rough around the edges.
Agatha groaned in exasperation, letting her head thud lightly against the cabinet behind her.
“This,” she snapped, holding her casted arm up. “I swear to God, I didn’t regret breaking my hand on Hughes’s face for a second, but now—”
Rio’s lips quirked into a crooked smile, despite herself, her hands still steadying Agatha at her waist.
“Second thoughts, Mayweather?” she teased softly, though her gaze stayed tender.
Agatha narrowed her eyes but couldn’t help the corner of her mouth twitching upward.
“ Only because now...I have to teach my left hand how to do what my right hand just learned.”
Rio chuckled lowly, a sound that sent a fresh wave of heat through Agatha’s chest as Rio leaned in again, her lips brushing against the shell of Agatha’s ear.
“You’re resourceful,” Rio whispered, her voice a low hum that curled through Agatha.
She pulled back just slightly, her thumb brushing over Agatha’s bottom lip in a slow, deliberate sweep.
“I’m sure you’ll manage.”
It wasn’t just a statement—it was a challenge.
Agatha met Rio’s gaze, and without missing a beat, she bit down gently on Rio’s thumb, trapping it against her teeth. Her lips curved into the barest smirk around Rio’s thumb as her tongue flicked out—slow and devastatingly familiar. She dragged the tip of her tongue across Rio’s thumb with the same curling motion she’d use against Rio’s clit, the intention clear—the promise undeniable.
Rio’s breath hitched sharply, her body going taut as her dark eyes flared.
Agatha held her gaze, her tongue lingering just enough to provoke— to dare .
The sound Rio made was low and feral, something caught between a growl and a moan, and whatever restraint had held Rio back shattered in an instant. She ripped her thumb from Agatha’s mouth, and her hands were gripping Agatha’s hips, pulling her away from the countertop and spinning them around.
Before Agatha could even catch her breath, Rio had reversed their positions, kissing her with a passion that sent sparks racing down Agatha’s spine. She didn’t relent as she backed Agatha down the hallway, their lips never parting.
Agatha should have known this was coming—she’d invited it—but it still caught her by surprise.
That was Rio.
All pure power and untamed energy, like a nuclear reactor, always toeing the line between control and implosion, threatening to consume everything in her path.
Agatha tried to keep up— God, she tried —but Rio was relentless.
It wasn’t until Agatha felt the edge of her bed press into the backs of her legs that she realized they were in her bedroom. She didn’t even have time to process it before Rio pushed her down onto the mattress, the impact while soft, still somehow managed to steal what little air she had left.
And then before she could even recover Rio was on her—literally on her.
She crawled into Agatha’s lap straddling her without breaking the kiss for even a second. Her hands threaded into Agatha’s hair, pulling and twisting, guiding her, directing her like she was something Rio had absolute control over.
Every pull sent a jolt of electricity through her, and Rio’s hips began to move, rolling slowly into Agatha’s lap with a precision that left her dizzy. Agatha groaned into Rio’s mouth, her good hand sliding down to grip the curve of her ass, fingers digging in possessively.
The contact earned her a moan from Rio, muffled against her lips but vibrating through her chest like a hum.
“ Rio ,” Agatha breathed, her voice ragged as Rio’s lips finally broke away to drag across her jaw.
Her head tilted back instinctively, her fingers flexing against Rio’s body.
“Fuck.”
Rio pulled back just enough to look at her, her dark eyes hooded and wild, her breathing matching Agatha’s in its ragged unevenness. A faint smirk curled at the corner of her lips, but there was nothing teasing about it—no playful edge.
It was something sharper—something that screamed intent.
And just when Agatha prepared herself to be devoured again....surprisingly Rio didn’t move.
Instead, Rio just looked at her.
Agatha watched as Rio’s gaze drifted slowly downward, her eyes trailing over the way their bodies were pressed together—her thighs framing Agatha’s lap. Agatha could see the flicker of thought as it moved across Rio’s face, quick and unreadable, but enough to set off something sparking in Agatha’s chest.
Then Rio looked back up, locking eyes with her, and— God help her —there was something devastating in that look. Something that had Agatha’s pulse stuttering, a shiver rolling down her spine.
Agatha could see the words sitting on the edge of Rio’s lips before she literally bit down on her bottom lip, as if she were physically trying to hold back a thought she couldn’t contain. And judging by the feral gleam in her eyes, Agatha knew—she just knew —that whatever Rio was thinking, whatever Rio was planning, it was something Agatha would never be prepared for.
A wave of anticipation hit her like a punch to the chest, but underneath it, buried deep, was the faintest ripple of nervousness.
Because Agatha understood exactly what they were dancing around—what they had been circling since the very beginning.
The power Rio had when Agatha gave it to her. The control Rio could wield with a look, a touch, a word.
And the way Agatha would let her .
They had only just cracked the surface of this—this thing between them. This dynamic, this balance of power that felt so fragile and yet so right . There was so much more to explore, to unearth, to lose themselves in.
“What?” Agatha said finally, her voice unsteady, cracking through the silence because she couldn’t take it anymore. “Do I even want to know what you’re thinking?”
Rio’s smirk widened, a slow, dangerous curve that sent warning bells and heat sparking through Agatha all at once. Her tongue worked against the inside of her cheek as her gaze locked on Agatha.
She didn’t answer right away.
Instead, her fingers moved in Agatha’s hair, nails grazing against her scalp, scratching lightly—just enough to pull at the strands at the base of her neck. The tug sent a sharp jolt down Agatha’s spine, the touch as teasing as it was powerful .
Rio leaned in closer, her lips just a breath away, the heat of her body curling around Agatha like a vice.
“Probably not,” Rio murmured, her voice a low, delicious hum that sent heat curling in Agatha’s stomach.
Agatha’s throat went dry, her entire body taut beneath Rio’s touch.
Oh, she was in trouble.
“Tell me anyways,” Agatha whispered, the words barely audible, her voice betraying the flicker of need and curiosity she couldn’t suppress.
Rio paused, and then she looked at her.
Really looked at her.
It wasn’t just a glance, or a teasing stare—it was the kind of look that stripped her bare. Her breath caught and her pulse pounding in her ears as she held Rio’s gaze, unable to look away.
And then, without a word, Rio pulled back.
The loss of her hands, her warmth, her weight, felt sudden and jarring, like the air had been sucked out of the room. And before Agatha could blink, Rio slid off her lap, rising to her feet with the kind of quiet grace that made the movement feel calculated.
Agatha frowned, her brows knitting together in confusion as she watched Rio straighten.
And then Rio walked out of the room.
She didn’t say a word.
Not one.
She just… left.
Agatha blinked, stunned into silence, her mind stuttering to catch up.
What the hell?
For a moment, she sat there, still perched on the edge of her bed, listening to the distant sound of Rio’s footsteps padding down the hallway.
Then, she heard it—the soft creak of a door opening.
Her door.
Rio’s room.
Her stomach plummeted.
Agatha’s mind started to spiral, confusion giving way to something far darker.
Was she leaving Agatha?
Was Rio seriously leaving her like this, after kissing her senseless, after working her up and then— what? —walking away?
Rio had been right earlier.
Agatha did not like this.
Her jaw tightened, anger bubbling beneath the surface as she tried to process what was happening. She was seconds away from storming down the hall to demand an explanation when she heard it again—the soft thud of Rio’s door closing.
And then, footsteps. Steady, unhurried footsteps coming back to her .
Agatha’s eyes narrowed, her pulse quickening as she sat up straighter, glaring at the doorway like Rio might appear there just to further test her.
And then there she was.
Rio leaned casually against the doorframe, as if she hadn’t just left Agatha hanging, her dark eyes locked on Agatha’s with a slow, simmering intensity that made her chest tighten.
For one long, torturous moment, Agatha was too focused on Rio’s face—the faint smirk playing on her lips, the infuriating calm in her expression—to notice what she was holding.
But then her gaze dropped.
Agatha’s breath caught, her mind stalling completely as she zeroed in on the object dangling loosely from Rio’s fingers at her side.
That fucking backpack .
Oh.
Oh.
Rio tilted her head, that infuriating, devastating smirk deepening like she could see every single thought flashing through Agatha’s mind.
Well… Agatha didn’t hate the idea.
Not one bit.
But that didn’t mean she was going to let Rio off the hook without a little snark.
“ So —just to be clear,” Agatha drawled, arching a brow as she leaned back on the bed, propping herself up on her good arm. She forced a casualness into her tone, trying—and failing—to appear nonchalant. “When you receive a death threat and get forced out of your home, your strap-on makes the cut as an essential item?”
Rio’s smirk widened, wicked and unrepentant.
“Packed it right next to my toothbrush,” she replied smugly.
Agatha snorted before she could stop herself, a sound caught somewhere between laughter and disbelief.
This woman.
“Well,” Agatha said, her lips twitching into a smirk that didn’t quite hide the way her pulse picked up. “At least you’ve got your priorities straight.”
Rio didn’t answer right away. Instead, she stepped forward the backpack swinging lazily from her fingers as she closed the distance between them. The room felt smaller with every step she took—every step building something Agatha couldn’t name.
Anticipation.
Heat.
Or just fucking Rio.
And when Rio finally reached the bed, she set the backpack down next to Agatha with an unhurried ease. But then, instead of saying a word, she reached forward and cupped Agatha’s face in both hands, tilting her chin up until their eyes met.
Agatha’s breath caught in her throat, because Rio’s expression softened—melting from something teasing and predatory into something so full of love it made Agatha’s chest ache. It was the kind of look that made her want to reach for Rio and never let go.
“With you… always, my love,” Rio murmured, her voice low and steady, each word carrying the weight of a promise.
A shiver ran down Agatha’s spine, sharp and all-consuming, as those words settled deep—curling into her chest like they were meant to live there.
And suddenly, Agatha wasn’t laughing anymore.
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, the overwhelming tightness in her chest making it almost painful to breathe. She had to look away, dropping her gaze to the backpack resting against her legs, afraid that if she met Rio’s eyes any longer, her ribs might crack under the pressure.
Rio’s fingers fell away from her face, and Agatha busied herself with playing with the zipper pull until she found her words.
“What made you think I wouldn’t like this?” Agatha finally asked, her voice soft but teasing—anything to steady herself. She forced the emotions clawing at her chest back into place and looked back up at Rio, lifting a brow. “I think the last time we did this— I was very much in the ‘yes’ category for a repeat performance.”
Rio smiled—warm, genuine—but there was a flicker of something else beneath it.
Was that hesitation?
“Open it,” Rio said quietly.
The moment felt like déjà vu, except this time Agatha wasn’t bracing herself for what was inside as if disarming a pipe bomb.
She knew what was inside.
But then she sent a hesitant look to Rio— or at least, she thought she knew what was inside.
She reached for the backpack, struggling for a moment with her one good hand until she managed to work the zipper open. Her brow furrowed as she glanced inside, and then she froze.
Her brain registered what she was looking at, but it still took her a beat to process it. Slowly, she looked back up at Rio, questioning, but Rio just stood there, perfectly still, her gaze unwavering.
Of course.
Agatha exhaled through her nose, glanced back into the bag, and reached inside.
The black leather straps were familiar, but the dildo —that was new.
Gone was the intimidating black silicone Rio had once fucked her with.
And in its place was something undeniably different.
Purple.
A striking color that contrasted starkly against the leather harness. It was slightly smaller, more approachable in size, yet no less prominent.
For a moment, Agatha could only stare at it, her good hand holding it up as though she were trying to reconcile what she was seeing with what she knew . Finally, she looked back at Rio, her brow arching despite the tightness that had returned to her throat.
“Is this because purple’s my favorite color?” Agatha asked, aiming for nonchalance, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.
Rio’s smile widened.
“I thought you’d appreciate the color,” she murmured, her voice low and edged with amusement.
Agatha barely had time to quirk an eyebrow before Rio’s expression shifted, the playful smirk softening into something deeper, something that made Agatha’s breath catch.
“I got it for you,” Rio said, her tone steady.
The simplicity of the statement was its power, and it landed with weight.
Agatha froze, her breath hitching at the weight in Rio’s tone. There was something more there—something unspoken yet impossible to miss. Agatha’s eyes narrowed slightly as she searched Rio’s face— waiting— needing her to finish.
Rio held her gaze for a beat longer, steadying herself. Then she took a step closer, close enough that Agatha could feel the heat rolling off her.
“I got it for you...” Rio repeated, her voice low and soft, as though each word was carefully chosen.
She paused, just long enough for Agatha’s pulse to quicken, before she continued.
“To wear—for me.”
Agatha’s chest tightened and her brain stuttered over Rio’s words as they sank in. She felt pinned beneath Rio’s gaze, her words and gaze almost palpable.
For her.
Agatha swallowed hard, her fingers curling tighter around the leather straps as heat coiled low in her stomach, sharp and undeniable. The weight of Rio’s words lingered in the air as her mind scrambled for something— anything . And when all else failed, she leaned into the one thing that had always been her armor.
Humor.
Agatha arched a brow, her lips curving faintly into what she hoped was a confident smirk as she managed with fake offense.
“Why is mine smaller?”
Rio blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before her smirk returned—slow, devastating, and entirely too smug.
“I thought size didn’t matter,” she teased, her voice dripping with mock innocence. “I’m sure you’ll make up for it… somehow.”
Agatha let out an incredulous pfft , shooting Rio a pointed glare even as the nervous flutter coiled tighter in her stomach.
Agatha wasn’t expecting this .
She wasn’t prepared.
And that, no doubt, was exactly where Rio wanted her.
She dangled the harness from her fingertips, staring at it like it might grow teeth and bite her before setting it to the side on the bed.
“I don’t even know where to begin with using something like this… on you,” she admitted, her voice quieter, a little unsteady.
Rio’s smirk softened into something even more dangerous. She stepped closer, invading Agatha’s space, until their bodies were nearly touching.
“I just need you to wear it, darling,” Rio murmured, her voice a low hum that sent shivers racing down Agatha’s spine. “I can do all the work.”
Oh.
Agatha swallowed hard, her heart slamming against her ribs as Rio’s words curled around her—and then through her.
Well, damn.
Rio smirked, watching as the realization flickered across Agatha’s face, the dots connecting one by one.
“What do you say, Agatha?” Rio murmured, her voice threaded with a dark—silky challenge—nearly breathless with anticipation. She leaned in close— so close that Agatha could feel the heat of her breath ghosting over her ear.
“Will you wear that for me… and let me fuck myself on it— on you ?”
The world tilted.
Agatha’s stomach bottomed out, the weight of Rio’s words hitting her with a force that stole the air from her lungs. She gripped the leather straps tighter in her hand as if holding onto them could somehow keep her grounded.
But she wasn’t grounded—she felt like she was floating with no sense of control.
She opened her mouth, tried to summon her trademark wit, the sharp retort Rio usually dragged out of her so effortlessly.
But nothing came.
Certainly, not with Rio’s words lingering in the air like a tangible thing, a touch, a promise—something that painted itself across her mind in vivid, intoxicating detail.
Heat coiled low and sharp between her legs making her thighs press together instinctively. The image formed in her head with startling clarity—Rio straddling her, moving against her, taking what she wanted— Agatha’s hand on Rio’s hips, holding her steady, guiding her to orgasm—holding her after.
“Fuck…” Agatha breathed, the word slipping out on a ragged exhale, her voice lower than she intended, almost reverent.
Rio tilted her head slightly, satisfaction flaring across her face like taking Agatha's breathless whisper for exactly what it was— acceptance . Her smirk softened into something more dangerous, as she let her eyes drift from Agatha’s face to the harness still clutched in her hand.
She stepped closer—agonizingly close—her body now brushing against Agatha’s knees where they bent at the edge of the bed. Slowly, Rio leaned down until her lips hovered over Agatha’s.
“We’ll get to that , baby,” she whispered, the words sinking past Agatha’s lips and down her throat, like molten heat.
Rio straightened just enough to meet Agatha’s gaze again, her expression nothing short of devastating.
“But you’ve got to put it on first.”
This fucking woman.
Agatha swallowed hard, her gaze locked on Rio’s, the air between them crackling with tension so thick it felt suffocating. Slowly, her good hand reached up and curled around the back of Rio’s neck. Her fingers threaded through the soft strands at the base of Rio’s neck—just enough to tease, just enough to make Rio’s breath hitch.
Agatha’s eyes, searched Rio’s face as she leaned in. She let the silence stretch, let Rio feel the weight of the moment that she herself created but also allowed her more time to gather her own courage, before licking her lips and finally murmuring softly—
“Go lock the door.”
Agatha stood in front of the bed, her arms crossed over her chest as if she could physically shield herself from the overwhelming awkwardness pressing down on her. This had to be one of the most uncomfortable moments of her life—or at least, that’s what she told herself.
But then Rio, in her endless ability to disarm, had to open her mouth.
“Relax,” Rio said with a sly grin, reclining casually on the edge of the bed. “I’ll handle the bottom half. You just focus on the top.”
Agatha rolled her eyes, the dry humor taking the edge off her nerves for half a second—until Rio took her words literally.
Rio didn’t just take over.
She owned the moment.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she reached for Agatha, her hands firm but careful as she pulled her closer. Agatha stiffened, her skin prickling as the awkwardness returned with the intensity of a thousand suns. When Rio’s fingers hooked into the waistband of her pants and, without ceremony, began sliding them down her hips, Agatha’s entire body went rigid.
“Jesus Christ,” Agatha muttered, half under her breath, her hands twitching as though she didn’t know whether to stop Rio or help her.
Rio, of course, was completely unfazed.
She didn’t stop, didn’t pause, just kept going with the kind of calm, surgical precision that should have been illegal in moments like this. Agatha’s pants hit the floor, quickly followed by her underwear, and suddenly, she was standing there—completely bare from the waist down—while Rio reached for the harness on the bed like this was the most normal thing in the world.
It wasn’t.
It so wasn’t.
Agatha’s skin prickled like the awkwardness was a physical force pressing down on her, but Rio didn’t seem affected by it at all. She moved with purpose, her fingers deftly undoing buckles and adjusting straps, her expression focused.
And then it happened.
The brush of warm lips against Agatha’s hip bone.
Her breath hitched, the unexpected touch knocking the air clean out of her lungs. The awkwardness, the self-consciousness, all of it melted under the heat of that kiss. Agatha looked down, her chest heaving, only to find Rio looking up at her with a smirk curling at the edges of her mouth.
Her lips lingered on Agatha’s skin, pressing another kiss just as her fingers continued to work at the buckles of the harness.
Her lips lingered on Agatha’s skin, warm and soft, pressing kisses along the curve of her hip. Agatha’s breath hitched again when Rio’s lips trailed lower, brushing along her stomach, her other hip, and then just above her pubic bone. The heat of Rio’s mouth against her skin was electric, sending sharp sparks shooting up her spine.
And Rio, damn her, didn’t even pause.
Her fingers worked with a practiced ease, the cool leather of the straps brushing against Agatha’s thighs. She murmured softly as she adjusted the buckles, her voice low and soothing, a counterbalance to the fire she was igniting with her kisses.
“This one goes here,” Rio said, her words brushing against Agatha’s skin as she kissed the edge of her stomach. Her fingers slid one strap into place, tugging gently before buckling it.
“And this strap,” another kiss, just above her thigh, “is going to make sure everything stays in place.”
Agatha let out a shuddering breath, her hand instinctively reaching out, her fingers threading through Rio’s hair. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to ground herself or pull Rio closer.
Maybe both.
“Just for the record,” Agatha managed, her voice unsteady, “I’m not absorbing a single thing you’re saying.”
Rio chuckled softly against her skin, the sound low and wicked, vibrating against Agatha’s hip and sending another sharp jolt of heat spiraling through her body.
“Noted,” Rio murmured, her lips brushing the curve of Agatha’s hip before her teeth grazed the sensitive skin. She bit down gently, enough to have Agatha hissing, her fingers tightening in Rio’s hair.
Rio soothed the bite with her tongue, sending another shiver down Agatha’s spine. Her fingers worked the last buckle with practiced ease, and then she pulled back, her mouth and hands falling away. Rio’s eyes dropped, taking in the strap now secured between Agatha’s legs, her gaze dark and feral.
God, this should be awkward.
It should be awkward as hell, but the look in Rio’s eyes—the way her lips parted slightly, her chest rising and falling a little faster—had Agatha swallowing hard.
Rio dragged her eyes back up, slowly, purposefully, and smirked when her gaze landed on Agatha’s still-buttoned white dress shirt.
“What happened to you handling the top half?” she teased, her voice low, warm, and edged with amusement.
Agatha mustered every ounce of composure she had left, glaring mockingly at Rio despite the heat coiling low in her belly.
“I was busy trying not to run out of the room,” she deadpanned, though her lips twitched at the corners.
Rio snorted at that before leaning back on her hands, propping herself up with a lazy grace that was anything but casual.
“Just so you know...you running around in your dress shirt, bare-assed, with a purple strap bouncing between your legs is now permanently burned into my brain,” Rio quipped, her smirk widening.
Agatha rolled her eyes, but her heart raced at the teasing lilt in Rio’s tone, her good hand moving to her hip in a faux gesture of defiance.
“Glad I could leave a lasting impression,” she retorted, though the corner of her mouth betrayed a smirk.
Rio’s eyes glinted as she sat up slightly, her voice dropping into a huskier tone.
“Oh, Agatha—trust me. You always leave more than an impression on me.”
The words hit Agatha square in the chest, her heart stuttering in response.
Rio tilted her head slightly, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips before she stood and reached for Agatha’s hips. In one smooth motion, Rio reversed their positions, now standing in front of Agatha while still maintaining control of the moment. Her hands moved to Agatha’s shirt, fingers brushing over the fabric as she began unbuttoning it with deliberate slowness. It was maddeningly intentional, every movement drawn out as though Rio wanted to savor the anticipation.
By the time Rio reached the last button, Agatha’s breathing was uneven, her pulse a drumbeat in her ears. Rio carefully slipped the shirt from Agatha’s shoulders, mindful of the cast on her arm, leaving her standing there in nothing but her cream-colored lace bra.
Of course, Rio’s gaze dropped immediately to her chest—fixated in a way that was both endearing and undeniably heated. Agatha might have teased her about it if she weren’t just as bad. But as Rio’s eyes began to roam, mapping the expanse of her skin, the heat shifted.
Rio’s expression changed, her brows knitting together as something flickered in her eyes—confusion, then worry.
Agatha followed her gaze, trailing down her own arm until she saw it.
A bruise, dark and unmistakable, wrapping around her bicep in the clear outline of a hand.
James Hughes.
The memory came rushing back—the way he’d grabbed her in the courthouse hallway, his grip hard enough to make her wince. She hadn’t even realized he’d left a bruise. At the time, she’d been too consumed with rage, too focused on delivering that satisfying punch, and later, too distracted by her broken hand to notice anything else.
Rio’s jaw tightened, her fingers brushing lightly over the mark.
“He did this,” she said, her voice low and simmering with anger.
It wasn’t a question.
Agatha sighed, her hand coming up to Rio’s wrist, holding it gently.
“It’s nothing,” she said, attempting to dismiss it, but the way Rio’s gaze darkened told her that wasn’t going to fly.
“It’s not nothing,” Rio said, her tone sharp pulling her hand from Agatha’s light grip, before reaching forward and lightly dragging her fingers across Agatha’s arm as though she could erase the bruise through sheer willpower. “He put his hands on you.”
“Rio...” Agatha started, her voice softer now, attempting to soothe, to get ahead of whatever storm was brewing behind that glare.
Rio’s nostrils flared as she let out a sharp, audible breath through her nose, cutting Agatha off before she could say more. Her jaw was clenched so tight that Agatha swore she could hear her teeth grinding, a sound that made her wince more than the bruise on her arm.
For a moment, Rio didn’t say anything, her eyes fixed on the darkened mark on Agatha’s skin. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, controlled, but trembling at the edges with suppressed rage.
“Do you have any idea how lucky he is that you got to him first?” Rio said, her words measured but carrying the weight of a promise—a threat that sent a shiver racing down Agatha’s spine.
Agatha blinked, caught off guard by the sheer ferocity in Rio’s tone. She opened her mouth to respond, but Rio didn’t give her the chance.
“No,” Rio continued, her eyes snapping up to meet Agatha’s, the intensity in them making it impossible to look away. “Because if I had been there, if I had seen him lay a hand on you...” Her voice trailed off, her hands curling into fists at her sides as she visibly tried to reign herself in.
“Rio,” Agatha tried again, her voice softer now, trying to pull her out of the dark place she was clearly teetering on. She reached out with her good hand, her fingers brushing gently against Rio’s arm.
Rio let out another sharp breath, this one trembling as her fists slowly unclenched. She looked down at Agatha’s hand on her arm, then back at her, her eyes softening just enough to remind Agatha of the woman beneath all that fire.
She swallowed hard, her voice faltering for just a moment.
“I can’t stand the thought of someone doing that to you. Ever .”
Agatha let out a slow, measured breath, her chest tightening as the memories of just days ago came flooding back—the sheer terror, the helpless rage, the image of Rio bleeding, wounded, from the mugging-turned-hit.
She knew exactly how Rio was feeling.
The anger coursing through her wasn’t foreign—it was all too familiar.
Agatha reached up, her fingers ghosting over the stitches still healing on Rio’s brow. Her touch was feather-light, reverent, tracing the edges of the wound.
“Trust me, my love,” she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know exactly how you’re feeling right now.”
Her words seemed to pull Rio’s attention, her dark eyes softening as they searched Agatha’s face. Agatha felt the weight of that gaze, the love and worry intertwined with something deeper—something primal, protective, and unrelenting. It was the same feeling that had driven her to punch James Hughes without hesitation.
Rio’s hand came up to cover Agatha’s, holding it for a moment before pulling it away.
The moment lingered, quiet and charged, until Agatha finally let out a small, genuine smile that edged toward a smirk.
“Now,” she said dryly, her voice laced with deadpan humor, “can we please get back to the part where you fuck yourself on this ridiculous purple cock now strapped to my body?”
Rio froze for half a beat, her eyes going wide with surprise before a laugh erupted from her—a real, genuine laugh that echoed through the room, breaking through the tension that had weighed them both down. It was warm and bright, and it melted the somberness that had threatened to swallow them whole.
“Oh, my God,” Rio muttered, shaking her head as her laughter softened into something more private, her dark eyes glinting with amusement and heat.
She stepped closer, her smile turning wicked as she reached forward and pressed two fingers against Agatha’s breastbone, pushing her back with just enough force to guide her. Agatha moved willingly, her legs hitting the bed until she was sitting on the edge, staring up at Rio with a raised brow that dared her to make her next move.
Rio met that challenge without hesitation, her gaze darkening as she took a step back. And then—without a word—she reached for the hem of her shirt and stripped it off with a fluid motion.
Agatha barely had time to process that before Rio’s hands moved to her waistband, shoving her pants down in a motion so quick and efficient it left Agatha momentarily stunned. In the span of seconds, Rio was standing in front of her completely bare, radiating confidence and power.
Agatha’s mouth went dry.
This woman was fucking beautiful.
Her gaze swept over Rio’s body, lingering on every line, every curve, every inch of radiant, flawless skin. But it wasn’t just Rio’s physical beauty that left Agatha breathless—it was the way she carried herself. There was an unapologetic boldness in her stance, a confidence so magnetic that it made Agatha’s pulse race. And then there were her eyes, dark and locked on Agatha with an intensity that felt like a physical touch, pulling her in.
Agatha’s voice came out low, almost pleading, as she murmured—
“Come here.”
She didn’t have to say it twice. Rio moved without hesitation, closing the distance between them with fluid grace. In an instant, she was in Agatha’s lap, straddling her, and the warmth of her body pressed against Agatha’s own sent a jolt of electricity through her.
And then Rio’s lips were on hers, the kiss crashing down with all the force of a tidal wave. It was wild, consuming, the kind of kiss that demanded everything and gave just as much in return. Agatha’s arms moved instinctively, wrapping around Rio and pulling her closer—needing her— needing this.
Agatha claimed Rio’s lips in a rough, desperate kiss, her good hand gripping her hip with bruising intensity as if anchoring Rio to her. Then, she pulled back, her mouth trailing down Rio’s jawline, her teeth grazing just enough to pull a sharp inhale from her. Agatha’s lips found the curve of Rio’s neck, biting and sucking with a ferocity that left no room for doubt.
Rio didn’t seem to mind.
Her hips canted forward instinctively, rolling against Agatha and pressing the strap perfectly against Agatha’s clit. The friction was enough to drag a guttural moan from both of them, Rio’s sound low and gravelly, Agatha’s sharper, edged with need.
That contact ignited something primal in Agatha. The heat in her blood roared to life, driving her movements as her mouth slid lower, her lips and teeth finding the swell of Rio’s breast. She kissed, licked, and bit with precision, the way she knew Rio craved. She alternated between soft pulls and sharp nips, drawing out gasps and groans that had Rio trembling against her.
“Fuck,” Rio hissed, her voice low and reverent, her fingers threading into Agatha’s hair and holding it up so she could watch. She didn’t just want to feel Agatha—she wanted to see her, to savor the sight of her mouth working over her nipples, of her lips swollen and red as they dragged across Rio’s skin.
Rio’s hips kept moving, grinding into the strap, sending jolts of sensation through both of them. The way she murmured, her words incoherent but full of heat, only spurred Agatha on. She closed her teeth lightly around one nipple, tugging just enough to have Rio’s head falling back with a sharp groan.
“Jesus, Agatha,” Rio rasped, her voice shaky and raw, her body arching into Agatha’s mouth as if she couldn’t get enough.
Neither ocould Agatha.
Every sound, every movement, every moan lit her up, and she was determined to give Rio and her everything she needed—and more.
Rio’s fingers slid away from Agatha’s hair, one hand moving with purpose as she lifted herself from Agatha’s lap. Agatha could feel her breath catch as Rio’s hand wrapped around the purple silicone, her grip firm.
The sight sent a jolt through Agatha—something unexpected, something primal—that settled low in her stomach, coiling tight.
“Wait—shouldn’t we get lube?” Agatha blurted, her voice uncharacteristically shaky.
Rio didn’t answer with words.
Instead, she released her hold on the strap and reached for Agatha’s left hand, guiding it between her legs. The second Agatha’s fingers brushed against her, both of them groaned.
Rio was soaked—so impossibly, undeniably ready—and the realization sent a wave of heat crashing through Agatha.
“No, my love,” Rio murmured, her lips brushing the shell of Agatha’s ear, her voice low—dripping with a desire that Agatha could feel against her fingers. “We definitely don’t need lube.”
It was enough to make Agatha’s head spin and her hand, already poised between Rio’s thighs, moved instinctively. Her fingers slid through the wet heat again and even with her less-dominant hand, she still managed to find enough control to circle Rio’s clit.
The sound that spilled from Rio’s lips—a soft, breathy mewl—was both devastatingly hot and heartbreakingly tender. It struck a chord deep within Agatha.
“God, Rio,” Agatha murmured, her voice rough, almost breaking under the weight of her own desire. Her fingers swirled again, finding just the right rhythm, and Rio’s hips bucked, pressing harder into her touch.
“Fuck—Agatha,” Rio moaned, her voice raw and needy, before reaching between them and grabbing the silicone again. Her movements were unhurried yet commanding, and the sheer control she exuded sent a new wave of heat pooling low in Agatha’s stomach.
“Keep your fingers right there,” Rio said, her voice thick with want, her words nearly a plea but laced with an undeniable authority. “Can you do that for me, baby?”
Agatha barely had time to nod, her mind spinning, before she felt the pull of the silicone harness, the slight shift as Rio adjusted it, aligning it just right.
Time seemed to suspend, every second dragging out as anticipation coursed through her.
And she knew she had a choice—a fleeting, dizzying decision.
Should she look down and watch as Rio took the silicone inside her?
Or should she keep her eyes locked on Rio’s face, drinking in every reaction to Rio taking her?
Agatha chose the latter, her breath hitching as she tilted her head up slightly, her gaze locking onto Rio’s face.
And fuck —it was the right choice.
Rio’s features shifted, her lips parting as her eyes fluttered closed for a heartbeat before snapping open again, locking onto Agatha with an intensity that felt almost tangible. Her gaze was fire and hunger and something so deeply intimate it threatened to undo Agatha entirely.
And when Rio rolled her hips—slowly, testing, teasing, taking—Agatha watched the cascade of reactions ripple across her face. A sharp inhale, a slight quiver of her lips, a flicker of something raw and vulnerable giving way to unrestrained desire.
It was mesmerizing.
Agatha forced her fingers to remain, still moving, still working, and the sound that tore from Rio’s throat—a low, guttural moan—shot straight through her, igniting every nerve in her body.
“God, you feel so good,” Rio murmured, her voice trembling, and Agatha couldn’t tear her eyes away. She wanted to memorize every second of this moment, the way Rio’s head tilted back slightly, her throat exposed, her body arching into Agatha.
It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and Agatha was utterly, completely undone.
“Rio...” Agatha groaned, her voice catching, raw and desperate, as Rio moved with precision. The slow, purposeful roll of her hips sent the strap pressing perfectly against Agatha’s clit, the friction igniting every nerve ending and stealing the air from her lungs.
“Fuck,” Agatha gasped, her hips arching instinctively, chasing the sensation, the overwhelming pleasure blurring the edges of her thoughts.
Rio’s response was instant—a deep, guttural groan that vibrated against Agatha’s lips as their bodies found a rhythm. Her movements grew more insistent, her hands bracing against Agatha’s shoulders for leverage as she ground down, every motion wringing more sounds of raw pleasure from them both.
Agatha somehow still managed to keep pace with her fingers, circling—building up in pressure and intensity with every roll of Rio’s lips.
Rio’s head tipped back for a moment, her moan spilling into the air, rich and unrestrained.
“ Agatha ,” Rio cried, her voice trembling with need, her hips grinding down harder.
The sound—raw, unguarded—was the hottest thing Agatha had ever heard. But the haze of pleasure flickered as a thought pierced through.
They were going to wake Nicky.
Rio seemed to realize it at the same time. Without missing a beat, she leaned down, crashing their mouths together. The kiss was frantic and consuming, Rio’s lips muffling her cries, her moans, her gasps of pleasure, each sound now swallowed by Agatha.
Agatha suddenly became acutely aware of her own orgasm looming closer, like a storm gathering on the horizon. She could feel it—a low rumble deep within her, building with every grind of Rio’s hips. The pressure coiled tighter, electric and unrelenting but she wasn’t going to let go—not yet.
She needed Rio to fall first.
“Look at you,” Agatha rasped, her voice low and rough, thick with desire. Her fingers pressed and circled faster, perfectly matching the rhythm of Rio’s hips as they rolled against her. “So fucking perfect, baby. Taking me so well.”
The words surprised her—Agatha wasn’t usually one for dirty talk. She preferred letting Rio take the lead there, savoring the filthy, breathless things Rio murmured into her ear. But something about this moment, about the way Rio looked above her, wild and vulnerable all at once, made her want to try. To see if her words would have the same effect Rio’s always did to her.
It turned out... they did.
Rio whimpered, the sound raw and needy, her head falling forward until her forehead pressed against Agatha’s. Rio’s hips stuttered for the briefest second, as if her body had momentarily short-circuited under the weight of Agatha’s words, before finding their rhythm again, her movements even more desperate than before.
“You like this, don’t you?” Agatha continued, her voice dipping lower. “Feeling me inside you like this?”
Rio moaned.
“Yes,” she whimpered, the sound high and breathless, her hands gripping Agatha’s shoulders for stability as her movements grew more desperate, more erratic.
“You’re trembling,” Agatha continued, her words a seductive purr. “You’re right there, aren’t you, my love?”
“Please...please...please,” Rio pleaded, her voice breaking on the syllables, her hips bucking into Agatha almost violently.
“Let go for me,” Agatha commanded.
Her fingers worked Rio’s clit faster, circling and pressing in just the way she knew would send her over the edge. At the same time, her hips rolled up into Rio’s, driving the strap deeper, harder, pulling a guttural moan from both of them.
“Come for me,” Agatha growled, her voice raw and unrelenting. “I want to feel you. Let me have it, Rio.”
And then Agatha felt it—the way Rio tensed all at once, her body locking up as her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave. The raw cry that tore from Rio’s throat was loud— too loud —and Agatha reacted on instinct, her hand leaving Rio’s clit to curl behind her neck, pulling her forward into a kiss. She swallowed the scream that ripped from Rio’s mouth, the sound vibrating between them as Rio’s trembling body collapsed onto her.
They fell back onto the bed together, Rio’s weight settling atop her as Agatha worked her hips up, driving the strap deeper, feeling the resistance that wasn’t there before.
Agatha groaned into Rio’s mouth, her own need teetering dangerously close to the edge.
Rio’s hips rolled again, jerky and uncoordinated, rolling back against Agatha’s in desperate, shuddering movements. Her sighs and moans poured into Agatha’s mouth, hot and ragged, and it was too much—the sounds, the way Rio clung to her, the slick, startling wetness—that Agatha was suddenly aware of only heightened every sensation.
“Fuck,” Agatha gasped into the kiss, her body arching as the tension snapped inside her, sending her spiraling. Her hips stuttered, pressing up hard against Rio as the orgasm crashed through her, her cries mingling with Rio’s in the heat of their mouths.
Rio trembled on top of her, her fingers tangled in Agatha’s hair, her breaths ragged as they both rode the waves of pleasure together. Their bodies moved in sync, trembling and clinging, until the last shudders faded into stillness.
Agatha let out a long, shaky breath, her head falling back against the mattress as Rio slumped against her, warm and soft and utterly spent. For a few moments, neither of them spoke, the only sound in the room the unsteady rhythm of their breathing as they came back to themselves.
Agatha’s hand lifted, her fingers threading gently through Rio’s damp hair, her lips brushing a soft kiss against Rio’s temple. It was a simple gesture, but it carried a quiet intimacy that made Agatha’s chest ache in the best way.
Eventually, Rio sighed softly, her body shifting as she sat up. She moved with the grace of someone entirely drained, sliding off Agatha’s lap and collapsing beside face down on the bed with a groan.
Agatha turned her head, her gaze lazily sweeping over Rio’s utterly wrecked form—her flushed skin, her tousled hair, the rise and fall of her back with every breath.
Agatha dragged her eyes away, and drifted down her own body, catching the obscene amount of wetness glistening on her own stomach and the purple silicone gleaming with evidence of Rio’s release.
She smirked, the teasing lighting up her voice before the words even formed.
“Well, would you look at that,” Agatha drawled.
One of Rio’s eyes cracked open, narrowing in suspicion as she turned her head toward Agatha.
Agatha’s smirk widened, leaning into the taunt.
“Christmas came early again,” she quipped, her grin widening at her own audacity.
Rio’s open eye rolled dramatically before narrowing again, and she let out an exaggerated huff.
“You are horrible,” Rio muttered, though the corner of her mouth betrayed the faintest twitch of amusement.
Agatha opened her mouth to deliver what was undoubtedly going to be another smug remark, but before she could get a single word out, a pillow smacked her square in the face.