Against the Wall

by Rhyannon Byrd

  Shea tried not to stiffen up, knowing what was coming next, ready for it—even hungry for it, but still nervous. Ryan’s cock was massive, and though his thick fingers felt good as they slipped free from her backside, she still wasn’t completely certain she could take something as large as his full-sized erection. She took a deep, panting breath, trying to relax her muscles, only to let out an embarrassing shriek of alarm at the first press of the wet head against the tight rosebud.

  “Just breathe with me,” he murmured, his voice like rough silk, stroking over her skin, and she fell under the spell of raw sensuality he was weaving around them. The air and their heated bodies smelled sweetly erotic, the melody of their moans filling the silence of the night, and she succumbed—willingly.

  One large palm pressed up against the center of her chest, between her swaying breasts, moving with the rhythm of her lungs. “Breathe with me,” he repeated, his chest expanding against her back as his own lungs filled with air, and as they exhaled in unison, the broad head of his cock pressed into her in a delicious stretch that had heat leaping to an inferno in her veins, pumping through her body in a fevered rush of ecstasy and sensation.

  “Oh my God,” she groaned, breathing with him, and each time they exhaled he pushed deeper, working the thick intrusion of his cock into the tight recess until it was buried halfway up inside of her. Her burning muscles clamped down on it so hard, they both gritted their teeth from the tender, painful pleasure—and then the pace changed, his control slipping away as he began to move in a helpless, relentless rhythm.

  His hips pulled back, and then he sank in another two inches, the pleasure exploding through her body, sharp and satisfying.

  “I’m sorry—I can’t hold back,” he groaned, his hips picking up speed, pushing her harder with each greedy thrust. She struggled to answer, but could only pant louder. And then all she could do was cry out in need as his hand hooked around the front of her mound again, two fingers pinching her swollen clit, working it into a frenzy of pumping need.

  Her hands clawed into the bedding, her back arched, and suddenly she was helping him, pushing back against his burrowing cock until she’d taken him to the root, stuffed full of his throbbing flesh.

  “Fuck…you’ll kill me,” he growled, his lust-filled voice full of wonder as he slowly withdrew, pressed back in, withdrew, then pressed harder, until they were once again moving in a vicious, violent need for every ounce of pleasure and sensation they could wring from the passionate encounter. An intensely erotic experience they both knew they’d want…need…again and again.

  The tighter she gripped him, the harder he rode and stroked her, until they were groaning and shouting and grinding together in another volcanic, earth-shattering, ground-shifting release. Ryan shot up into her in a powerful blast of cum that had her shaking beneath him, her muscles contracting tighter and tighter as his wicked fingers propelled her into an orgasm so strong, she thought she must have passed out.

  Time was lost, forgotten, and when she came back to reality, he was falling to his side as he carried her down with him in the tight circle of his arms, crushing her back to his chest—his cock still nestled up tight within her body, content in its place, as if it belonged there. They were sticky and wet with cum, sealed together from their fluids in a poignant, emotional melding of bodies that neither wanted to end.

  Neither spoke, but the idea of words seemed such a harsh intrusion into so meaningful a silence. They drifted, together, lost in the moment—and a little in awe of it.

  Later, after some awkward maneuvering and a quick run through the shower, Shea lay warm and soft in his arms again, sleeping against his chest in utter exhaustion, while Ryan struggled to regain some sort of grip on reality. Damn, he was so far out there, flying on the biggest high of his life, but terrified he was going to make a complete jackass of himself. This couldn’t be good, because it was too fucking good.

  The woman in his arms had become his entire friggin’ existence—completely blindsiding him.

  She sighed against his chest, snuggled closer against him, and he wanted to take her all over again. No, not good at all. He’d been too damn rough with her, which was putting it lightly considering the way he’d nailed her sweet little ass, and she did need some downtime, even if his insatiable prick didn’t give a fuck. Come to think of it, her precious little cunt probably wouldn’t protest another go either, greedy little thing that it was, but he was going to be gallant, even if it killed him.

  Trying not to think about it, he sifted his fingers through the soft strands of her silky curls, loving the way they felt. Loving the warm press of her body against his, the moist heat of her sex-swollen cunt against his hip, her soft thigh draped over his aching cock. Jesus, he was in love with her. He knew it, felt it, but he couldn’t accept it. Not yet. No way in hell.

  He knew he wanted Shea, but there was no sense rushing this—this thing between them. Especially when she had this irrational, terrifying, utterly consuming hold on him. He needed time to work it out, time to learn how to handle it without making an utter ass of himself. They could take their time. Take it easy. Work up to living together, and in the meantime, he’d have her close.

  Hell, she was right next door. He’d be able to see her every day, sleep beside her every night. They could even take turns whose apartment they stayed at. He’d make it clear their relationship would remain exclusive, and eventually they’d take those next steps.

  Eventually.

  Ryan’s arms held her closer, crushing her to him as he tried to ignore the disturbing feeling that it wasn’t going to be enough, that he needed those other steps now. It had to be, damn it, because he just wasn’t ready to throw his heart out on the line. He could only hope Shea felt the same—or hell, that she felt anything at all.

  After what seemed like hours of trying to work this thing out in his mind, Ryan finally felt the need for sleep. Taking care not to hurt her, he gave in to the urge and gently pushed his cock back up inside of her, needing to feel it wrapped up warmly in her body where it belonged. He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple and her swollen mouth, luxuriating in the ecstasy of having her close, of being buried deep inside her with her scent surrounding him. Then he fell into a deep sleep with his body touching hers, inside and out, skin sealed to skin, heart against heart.

  Chapter Eleven

  She had had him for a week.

  The best damn week of her life.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  Not nearly enough. Oh, she’d experienced enough mind-shattering physical sensation to blow every brain cell she had, but her heart wanted more.

  Her heart wanted it all.

  It wanted the throbbing pulse of pleasure that he forced down her nerve endings until she was screaming and writhing in blood-pounding ecstasy, his wickedly talented cock teaching her things she’d never even known about herself. The limitless lust and need and ravenous, insatiable, demanding hunger he could pound through her system, making her beg and plead for the warm, sweet, clenching gush of orgasm until her throat ached. Making her plead until they were a grinding, pounding union of skin, sweat, and eager mouths and hands that couldn’t get enough of each other—not to mention cock and cunt that seemed to never want to separate.

  It was a passionate, sexual heaven. A physically decadent paradise. A pure, blissful perfection of everything she had known she would find in Ryan McCall’s arms. He gave her everything—all that he was—except for that one part she wanted more than anything.

  His damn stubborn heart.

  Throughout the long week, he’d called her on her cell during her breaks between classes, just to talk with her. Sometimes their conversations were playful, teasing, and yet others were just a sweet, simple sharing of their days. They’d laugh about the latest staff room rumor and he’d bitch about the snag in his latest case. It was surprising how she looked forward to those moments almost as much as the physical ones—just learning about his life and day-to-day routine. He
was so funny and sexy and exciting to be around—and everything she’d felt for him leading up to last Friday night had only intensified over the course of the last seven days.

  And then yesterday, he’d nearly made her come by the sound of his voice alone, in the middle of the university’s cafeteria, as he described in explicit, delicious detail how they were going to sixty-nine when they got home that night. Despite all they’d done—all she’d experienced at his hands—that was still one sweet spot that they’d yet to explore. Something they’d kept just out of reach, letting the slow, sweet burn of anticipation build. Ryan’s deep voice, so rough and suggestive, had set her on edge, and his promised words had kept her in a state of constant arousal to the point where she’d felt she was going to either burst or melt into a pulsing puddle of need in her plastic chair.

  It’d been one of their most erotic experiences yet, his husky point-by-point description of everything they would do. “I’m going to spread those pretty pussy lips, open you wide, and suck on your swollen clit until you’re shaking and crying and that hot little cunt is soaked in your cream. And when you’re jerking against my face, all wet and juicy, sucking my cock down your throat, sucking on it like you want to fucking swallow it, your hot little mouth packed full of it—then I’m going to give you my tongue and fuck that delicious hole until your juices are spilling all over me, sliding down my throat, fucking filling me up.”

  Damn, that man knew how to drive her wild. When her last class let out, she’d rushed home like a demon was on her ass and spent an hour soaking in a hot bath full of vanilla scented bubbles, careful to avoid her pulsing, aching clit—wanting to stretch the anticipation out for all it was worth.

  And when he’d walked through her door, his hands already going to the buttons of his fly, fingers ripping them loose as fast as they’d go, his sinful blue eyes eating her alive, she’d flooded with cream, the telling juices trickling down her thighs. He’d growled a feral sound of hunger when he’d reached her, her flimsy robe gone within the span of a breath, and then they’d been rolling across her late great aunt’s Oriental carpet, lips and tongues and limbs tangling in a carnal demand of flesh and lust. She couldn’t even recall how they’d made it from standing to lying, her senses too absorbed with hunger for the taste and scent of his hard, warm body as skin and muscle shifted in their urgent movements against one another.

  His mouth had been everywhere, licking and kissing as if he were starved for every inch of her, every delicate nuance of her body. Ravenous for everything that made her so different from every other woman he’d ever known. The sensitive skin behind her ears. The back of her neck and her pierced little navel. The insides of her elbows. The hollows of her hipbones.

  When they finally shifted, mouths to throbbing cock and sweet, slippery cunt, Shea had thought she would die from the rush of pure, erotic awareness.

  And all the while, Ryan had rasped hot, detailed, sexy commands against the sensitive flesh of her pussy, telling her what to do, teaching her how to draw it out until they were both trembling with desperation, their bodies slick with need. And when he couldn’t take it anymore, when she’d driven him beyond his limit, he’d growled out his demands, firing her with the desire to blow his mind.

  Oh, shit…more, baby.

  Deeper.

  All the way down—suck it in.

  Fucking suck it deep.

  More…more…more.

  And she’d moaned with savage satisfaction when she finally pushed him over the edge and they flooded into one another, coming with such force they’d nearly shouted themselves hoarse.

  Then the wicked man had taken her pleasure-sated body into his arms, made her heart flutter at the sweet, soft touch of his warm lips against her own, carried her into her bedroom, and promptly handcuffed her to her headboard!

  At first she’d been stunned, giggling at his playfulness as he stretched out above her, whispering devilish sentiments in her ear. Then he’d made her come so many times with his clever fingers and tongue that she was crying and cursing, begging for the feel of his cock inside of her. And when he’d finally let her have it—parting the tight muscles of her pussy with his thick root—she’d come so hard she’d passed out, only to awaken to him giving her those soft, sweet kisses again, whispering silly little words about how beautiful she was…how delicious.

  How much he always wanted her.

  How he only wanted her more every damn time he had her.

  But it hadn’t gone beyond that. She hadn’t even set foot in his apartment, because he’d yet to invite her there. Every evening Ryan came to her straight from work, they’d eat dinner together, spend the night screwing each other’s brains out, and in the morning he would run home to change before heading back to work.

  And now it was Friday again, damn it, and Shea wanted to know just what in the hell was going on. This was what she wanted—and so much less. She wanted it all, damn it! Wanted everything! But for all she knew, he’d be heading back to Red’s tonight. And if not tonight—then when? And what was she willing to do about it when he did?

  He’d said all he wanted was to fuck her, and by God, he had. Oh, had he ever. As she dragged her tired body through her apartment, slipping off her shoes, tossing her backpack into the corner of her bedroom, every carnal act they’d done together flashed through her mind in a torrent of vividly detailed images.

  Ryan with his mouth at her breasts, sucking at her nipples as if he meant to devour them.

  Ryan with his head buried between her thighs, probing deeply with his tongue while his thumbs held her wide open for him, unable to get enough of her taste.

  Ryan propped up on his arms above her while they both watched the hard, savage thrust of his body into hers.

  Everything they’d done had been about mind-blowing physical pleasure—and yet, it’d felt like more than just incredible sex, as if he’d been trying to tell her something with his body that he either couldn’t or wouldn’t say with words.

  It made her so damn angry and frustrated—his refusal to open up. She’d tried to tell him how she felt that first night, but he hadn’t wanted to hear it, and he wasn’t going to say it himself. She had to find a way to reach him—had to get past that stubborn-ass armor of his or she was going to lose him before she ever even had him.

  And she was no quitter.

  That was another one of those wonderful things Ryan did for her. When she was with him, she felt more confident—more certain of herself—like she could take on the world, if that’s what she wanted.

  It was odd, considering he was such a big, beautiful, dominating man, but he didn’t treat her like a weak doormat to walk on and use. He treated her like a sassy, sexy woman and she felt more powerful for it. She’d been more outrageous and daring and full of life in the past week than in the entire last twenty-seven years, and she knew it was because of him. Not that it was his doing, exactly, but more like—like his influence on her. Being near him, a part of him, was good for her. She was stronger for it, a better person for it.

  So then why was she moping around with her tail between her legs, waiting for him to make his move?

  How much more pathetic could she get?

  Screw this, she thought with a disgusted growl. She was not going to play the pathetic weakling here and let him get away that easily. No, she was going to dig in, show him what she was made of, and rock his world until he didn’t know whether he was coming or going. She just had to remember to keep her emotions out of it, at least until the time was right and he was ready to hear what she had to say.

  A part of her deep inside knew that he might never be ready, but she was just going to have to be woman enough to stand up and take it.

  And, of course, change his mind.

  With that thought clutched to her chest like a talisman, Shea strolled into her bathroom for a quick shower, ready to put her final plan into motion.

  Chapter Twelve

  He’d forgotten his effing umbrella. It figur
ed, after the afternoon he’d had drudging through old case files and wrapping up paperwork, that the sky would decide to unload on him now. And shit, he was in too much of a hurry to get home to Shea to worry about getting soaked in the downpour.

  He’d just stepped out into the biting, gray rain when his cell began buzzing against his hip bone. Jogging over to his truck, he climbed up into the humid interior of the cab and cranked the engine to get the windows defrosted, cursing the tiny silver phone for being so damn small. How the hell was he supposed to talk into something no bigger than a freaking business card?

  Or maybe his hands were just too damn big.

  “McCall,” he muttered into the insubstantial mouthpiece, grinding his jaw as images of his “big” hands moving over Shea’s soft skin flooded through his memory, singeing his already sensory jammed system. She’d been burned into his consciousness—her taste, her smell, the feel of her naked flesh against his own—all of it was right there, pounding in his temples, pumping to the rapid beat of his heart.

  He’d had a lot to think about today, starting with the crack of the morning phone call from Hannah. When his cell had begun vibrating on the bedside table, he’d carefully disengaged his cock from Shea’s warm pussy, loving the way they had often slept that way throughout week, and walked into her living room to take the call.

  He’d known who it would be without even looking at the caller id, wondering if Hannah was gonna make it a habit of keeping tabs on his and Shea’s sex life from now on. Her grandmother had taken a turn for the worse, and so she’d yet to make it back from Tennessee.

  “Still there, huh? Just tell me I’m not going to have to come home and go kung-fu on your ass.” Hannah’s voice had been loud and clear, making Ryan wince from the jolt to his sleep-dazed system. Shit, the damn woman had sounded like she’d already had a gallon of caffeine, and he’d been working on a real bitch of a sex hangover.