by Jennifer Ann
So why am I one kiss away from ripping my heart from my chest, and offering it to him for safe keeping? Why does the thought of leaving him in the morning to go back to my sucky life terrify me? Why does the unknown of what will happen after this twist my stomach into painful knots?
Yearning spreads through my veins like a virus. Each time I try to guide his hips home, he draws back, as if prolonging the moment is his only concern. As much as I get it, and wish we would always know this sensation of rapt expectation over connecting for the first time, I’m afraid I’ll either implode or drown him in my juices if we wait one minute longer.
As he’s destroying my lips, I push on his back, attempting to guide him inside of me. With a deep groan vibrating in his throat, he pulls the tip back out while giving my mouth a well-earned rest. “Not yet.” His finger circles around my puckered backside. “I’m not done exploring all of you.”
Groaning, I touch my slick forehead to his. “I can’t wait any longer. Give me that beautiful cock, Blackwood, or I’ll finish myself off.”
In a dark tone that sends shivers racing through me, he grabs the condom. I sit up and snag it from his fingers, wanting to be the one to sheathe him. He hisses through a clenched jaw as I take my time slipping it on, stroking him along the way. With an impatient look, he yanks himself from my hands, gripping the tip of the condom and adjusting the base. Then he flips me over to my back and I squeal, having never been manhandled like a sack of potatoes.
His body blankets mine, making every breath harder to take, but I love it. As far as I’m concerned, he can do whatever he wants to my body as long as he fucks it hard.
“Hmmm…who’s the eager one now?” I tease, running my fingers along his defined chest.
“Better hold onto something, gorgeous.”
His expression slackens when he pushes inside me with one long stroke. My slick opening accepts him like an old friend despite the blazing ache spreading through my center as it adjusts to his massive girth. Holy hell…he’s huge.
“Jesus, Zo. You’re soaked.”
There’s hardly a moment to catch my breath before he draws out and does it again. I cry in pleasure and victory, loving that it’s every bit as glorious as I had expected, and so much more. I’m trapped in a sensation somewhere between Heaven and Hell as he continues at a rapid pace, owning my body and officially claiming himself as mine. Beneath the weight of his alluring depths of blue, a shard of something meaningful pierces my heart, drawing moisture from my eyes.
I quickly blink it away, ashamed. What’s wrong with me? Who the fuck cries during mind-blowing sex with a man like Ryker?
He sets a hand on my neck, dragging his thumb along my throat with a taunting amount of pressure. “So fuckin’ tight…so sexy.” His thrusts quicken as he grunts through clenched teeth. “How will I survive you, gorgeous?”
When he sinks down to give my tingling breasts his full attention, my pulse hammers in my ears. How will I ever survive him? He’s a gentle, generous lover—the best lay of my life. The chances of finding another man like him are parallel with my chances of ever leaving the South Side.
As he begins a drawn-out torture on my nipples, I thrash and moan, clamping my hands on his tight ass cheeks. One of his fingers puts pressure on my clit and I climb higher and higher until a sky full of stars fills my head. I throw my head back, clenching around him.
“Oh god…gonna come,” I pant.
“Fuck! I can feel your sweet cunt squeezing me!”
The foul words send me tumbling over the edge. Struck with an overpowering release, I yell out his name, vaguely wondering if my eyes are closed, or if I’ve gone blind with pleasure. The force of it tears me up inside in the most delightful way, replacing every last nerve-ending with an epic display of a thousand fireworks.
Ryker draws back and drives into me a few more times until he roars, thighs trembling. “Oh shit! Zo!” The sheer magnitude of his beautiful voice sends another wave of pleasure through me. I’m disappointed he’s wearing a condom, because I’d love to also feel the evidence of what I did to him.
I smile to myself as he collapses on top of me. A second later he’s covering my face with soft kisses while muttering a bunch of nonsense.
I just got properly fucked by a rockstar.
I’ve never felt as elated as I do when waking with Ryker’s hard body molded against my back. After we finished sex the first time, we kissed for what felt like hours before I rode him the way I’d fantasized all day long. It was everything—the way his eyes devoured me, the way he folded his arms behind his head to give me total control, the way his cock tapped every last nerve ending. The climax was out of this world, like I had been transported to another universe.
“Morning, gorgeous.” The wide smile he throws me in the early light should be illegal. Mostly because I’m not a morning person, and need to ease into the day slowly. It’s not fair that he’s a vision of perfection the way his hair’s ruffled artfully around his head. Meanwhile, there’s a good chance I resemble questionable roadkill.
I grunt out a reply and he laughs deeply, drawing me into his strong arms and kissing me soundly. My lips still ache from the night before, but I don’t let that stop me from enjoying the sensual licks of his tongue.
Soon his face is between my legs and I’m on the brink of another brilliant orgasm. It leads to another languid round of sex. He’s tender this time around, extra attentive to what feels best on my end while giving me these adoring expressions that stop my heart. Another bundle of confusing emotions clog my throat, tempting me to break down and wail like a newborn. But I power through, managing to hold off as he comes inside another condom.
The second he’s off the bed and headed for the shower, I’m filled with a warm glow that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. Tears finally fall down the sides of my face, having no rhyme or reason that I can make sense of. Good lord, I’m a mess. It’s just…I’m always looking out for Charlize, focused on what makes her happy. When’s the last time anyone’s taken care of me?
Later, while Ryker’s making omelettes in the modern kitchen designed for a chef, I shower under steaming-hot water. After toweling off, I wander naked through the mansion.
The home’s outrageously large for one person, giving off an empty, lonesome vibe. Though decorated with a masculine touch, I get the feeling Ryker had nothing to do with any of it. I picture his taste being similar to his bedroom, in blacks and grays, probably with a ton of leather furniture. The rich mahogany and dark paisley patterns seem better suited for the old man I met at Pinky’s.
I’ve never been much of a reader, but I imagine the two-story library complete with a sliding ladder at the far end of the house would be every bibliophile’s wettest dream. It’s not that I don’t appreciate a good book, I’ve just been too busy to give any kind of hobby a fair chance. As I’m thumbing through a brittle copy of a book filled with some of the most romantic poems I’ve ever read, Ryker coughs behind me.
My poor heart nearly gives out when I turn to find him in a pair of low-slung shorts that reveals a perfect “V” leading to my favorite part of his body. Good lord, the man’s body is phenomenal. It invokes all kinds of deliciously kinky thoughts. Abs beckoning to be licked like an ice cream cone, soft bristled beard and luscious dark hair calling to my fingers…I wouldn’t even know where to start. I missed out by not watching him cook.
“What’re you doing?” he bites out.
I snort playfully, assuming his grumpy tone to be in jest. “Uh, reading? Why, is that not allowed here?”
Without warning, he grabs the back of my neck and bends me over the ladder to give my bare ass cheek an unbelievably hard whack. A scream rips from my throat. What the hell was that for?
In a notably dark timber, he answers my silent question. “That’s for tempting me with that gorgeous body while I’m trying to make your breakfast.”
Sadistic much? As pain blossoms across my tender ass cheek, arousal trickle
s down my legs. Okay, so maybe sadistic equals fun. I’ve only ever been subject to relatively vanilla sex that usually involves either missionary or cowgirl, and no kink of any kind. Whatever this is, I want more.
With a throaty groan, I grind against his hand. “Again.”
The next strike to the same spot is so sharp that I’m convinced he’s using a whip, but I turn to find him empty-handed. I squeal in a sound that I doubt I’ve ever made before. The dude can hit. There’s a feral look in his beautiful eyes when he asks me if I want another. Lip held between my teeth, I nod.
This time he slaps my other cheek, wrenching a horse scream from my throat. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to sit later, but I really don’t care. “Again,” I pant.
Instead of another spanking, he plunges a few fingers inside me. I squirm with his touch, dying for him to alleviate the heat spreading through my body. “Ryker…please.”
Next thing I know, he’s biting my neck and fucking me raw from behind until my legs turn to twin bands of useless rubber. He coaxes an orgasm out of me with his thumb. After I break apart, he continues with the power of a jackhammer while rolling my nipples between his fingers. He doesn’t last much longer before he’s shooting a rope of warm cum over my back, roaring like a madman.
After cleaning me off with his shirt and dropping kisses against my sore backside, he pulls me up to stand on my tingling toes. Beautiful eyes searching mine, his eyebrows knit together. “Was that okay?”
I wrap my arms around his thick neck, smiling down at his perfect lips. I’ll have to seduce him in this room again sometime. It was the roughest and dirtiest round of sex yet. If he has a kinky side, it just may revolve around the musty smell of books. “Whatever that was, I want to do it again sometime.”
After finishing his scrumptious breakfast, and taking our first erotic shower together, it’s nearly eleven—the time I told Charlize to be home.
Ryker sits on the marble counter in the bathroom, legs locked on either side of me as I run a brush through my wet hair. I made him throw on a pair of underwear so the temptation to stay wouldn’t be as strong, but there’s nothing he can do about the intimidating bulge attempting to push through his boxers, or the fine view of chest and abdomen muscles covered with smooth, tanned skin, waiting to be touched.
He pulls my free hand down to his mouth, kissing each of the knuckles until tiny flutters brush over my heart. Every moment we’ve been here following the gig, he’s been the most charming man in existence. Although I’m well aware we’re still in the honeymoon stage, I’d like to think he’d always treat me that way if we somehow made “us” work. But the odds of being in a relationship with this man haven’t been in my favor from the start.
A dark growl slips through his throat. “Don’t know how to say this without sounding like a dick, but…I like you better without makeup.”
I scrunch my nose at my reflection. “My freckles make me look twelve.”
“They remind me of the girl who was always watching me in geometry.”
My cheeks burn hot. “You saw that?”
“How could I not? You were already beautiful back then, just in a different way.” He pulls at the neckline of the clean Godsmack t-shirt he loaned me, stealing a peek at my bare breasts. “They also remind me of the freckles surrounding your tits, and these are hot as shit. You should really stay—I haven’t had a chance to study these up close in the daylight.”
Batting his hand away, I giggle and move in closer until we’re chest-to-fluttering-chest. “I could spend an entire week with you, doing all the things we’ve done since last night, but I have to check in with my sister.”
I slide my lips over his, dipping my tongue inside to savor the taste of Ryker à la eggs, coffee, cigarettes, and minty toothpaste. His arms wrap around my waist, cocooning me in his warmth and mystical scent. Earlier I had rummaged through his medicine cabinet, hoping to find whatever cologne makes him smell so edible so I could spray some on his shirt before I took it home. I only found an aerosol deodorant and some kind of beard conditioner that contributed to a small portion of my new favorite scent. A majority of it seems to be unique to Ryker—all man.
Once our lips part, he hooks a finger inside the front of my skirt. “What’re your plans for tonight?” He gives me a forlorn look that makes me want to either strip naked, or get down on my knees and take him in my mouth again. Anything to make it go away.
I run my fingers over the neat bristles covering his jaw, wondering how many days he goes without trimming. I’ve noticed a subtle difference since the night before. My thighs took a beating earlier, even though his beard’s as soft as angel’s wings. “It’s my first Saturday night off in forever. I’ll most likely spend it watching a marathon of eighties movies with Char, if I can catch her. That kid’s never home anymore.” I sigh, already hating that I won’t be with Ryker. “What about you?”
“I’m meeting the guys in a bit to jam. We’ll probably come back here and hang late, plan what we’re gonna do about Ben.”
A different kind of ache fills my chest when I imagine being in his shoes. I’d lose my damn mind if anything happened to Charlize. “Why don’t you just call the cops, and officially report him as missing?” He raises a single eyebrow, and I laugh in understanding. The police on the South Side are as crooked as my little sister, paid under the table to follow Terrance’s bidding. Besides, Ryker and his friends are technically felons. They’d be crazy to draw attention to the shop. “Right. Have you considered trying the MC route? I know some of the guys—”
He cuts me off with a heated kiss, holding my head in place as our tongues tangle. It’s a dirty, rotten trick, but one that works well. I’ll do anything for his kisses. If there was a competition that was scored by skill alone, the man would take home the championship.
When he backs away, I brace myself on his chest, breathing heavily. “You could stop over later.”
“Could be late. We talked about having another jam session…it helps to keep my mind off Ben, and I came up with some new material that I want to work on.”
“You mean like a new song? Something you wrote?”
His eyebrows dip into a sharp ‘V’. “Don’t sound so surprised. It happens.”
Shaking my head, I smooth the wrinkles on his forehead. “I’m not surprised. I’m just…majorly turned on.” I release a dreamy sigh. “Like you weren’t already hot enough.”
“It’s a work in progress.” The corners of his mouth twitch with a suppressed smile. Moments like this when he’s depressingly somber, I want to pinch his nipples, or do something absurd to make him laugh. Whatever it takes to hear the deep roll of his voice. “Maybe I can play it for you some time.”
Grinning like a little kid, I hold onto his face, surprised I have enough willpower not to attack him with the promise of another earth-shattering orgasm. “I can’t shake this feeling that you’re going to be a big star one day, Ryker. You’ve got the right charisma, voice, looks, talent—everything it takes to be a successful rockstar. You were practically born for that shit.”
A twinge of jealousy slices through me when I realize that would mean groupies would come after him in mobs. Women like that blonde at Purple Reign. I suddenly feel more possessive than I’ve ever felt about anything. With all this talk of taking care of my problems, I’ve assumed we’ve reached the point of exclusivity. But what if I’m wrong? What if I’m not the only woman he wants to take care of?
“Stop by when you’re done,” I plead. “Doesn’t matter if it’s late. I’m used to staying up until three or four on the weekends.”
His nostrils flicker with irritation. “Those days are over.”
“I know, but this is different. I’ll stay up if it means I can see you.”
“Sure your sister won’t mind?”
I shrug. I’ll be lucky if Charlize doesn’t ditch me before the sun’s down for something more exciting. I don’t have a clue how to keep her around short of tying her to the couch. “We
’ll have all day to hang. She’ll be sick of me by then.”
“Then I’ll be there…eventually.” He rests a hand on my neck, smiling as his thumb traces my jaw. “Fuck. I miss this gorgeous face already. Sure I can’t give you a ride home?”
I hold my phone up to show him the little black car on the screen. “My ride’s already here. Besides, we’d never make it out of the driveway.” I kiss the tip of his nose, then shuffle back toward the door before he has a chance to kiss me again. “If you think of it, send me a video of the new song. I’d love to hear it.”
Eyes darkening, he nods. “That won’t be a problem. I’ll be thinking of you the entire time.”
I race down the stairs before my fickle heart convinces my feet to turn around. I had a feeling when he walked into the club that he’d have the power to destroy me. I wasn’t prepared to hand over that power in such a short amount of time.
9
Ryker
For hours after Zoe leaves, my body continues to hum with gratification. I’ve been texting her on and off all day whenever she’s not doing laundry, or working out to pilates videos on YouTube. About swallowed my tongue when picturing her down on her back, swinging her legs through the air. Christ, I want to spend every day for the rest of my life buried in that woman, letting her tight pussy milk my dick for all it’s worth. Couldn’t decide what it was about being with her that was so damn sensational, though I’m guessing it’s a combination of factors. Whenever I close my eyes, I’m rewarded with a vision of her sweet smile, face covered in freckles.
Lyrics and melodies to potential new songs floated through my head the entire time she stuck around, making it even harder to let her leave. After spending less than a day together she’s become my muse, and that’s saying a lot. Some of the greatest tunes in the history of rock ’n’ roll wouldn’t exist without the Bebe Buells and Yoko Onos of the world.
