by M. Never
Ryan is beautiful and powerful and seductive, and the worst part about it is that he totally knows it. He owns it. Using his intrinsic sexuality to his advantage.
My heart is racing because all I want to do is tell him what I want. What I really want. And that’s him, inside me.
My head is racing because everything I know is telling me this is taboo. Something frowned upon in my social circle. In my father’s social circle. My rationale and my desire are slicing me right in two.
When Ryan forces my knees apart and crawls on top of me my head and body go to war. Urging me back onto my elbows, all my nerve endings throb as his body overtakes mine. I grab onto his neck with one hand as he grinds and rolls, every inch of him surging against every inch of me. The quill on his bulging bicep rippling as he moves. It’s So. Fucking. Hot. I can barely stand it. But when I look up into his eyes I’m shocked at what I find. There’s no eagerness or excitement or passion, just emptiness, nothingness, a vacant stare.
Ryan really has given me what I want. He’s shown me Jack the Stripper.
My heart constricts, because this isn’t the Ryan I know, and definitely not the one that I want.
I hear Emily’s voice inside my head: Don’t be scared. Show Ryan who’s boss, then let him break you down. Let him know you can be strong and confident, and still be vulnerable when you’re together.
Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to take her advice.
I push Ryan off me and onto his back. “Alana, what the—”
“Shhhh.” I put my finger over his lips, silencing him, his eyes as huge as satellites as he stares up at me.
I run my fingertip down his strong jaw, over his hard chest, teasing his smooth skin, stroking and caressing the cuts in his abs until I reach the line of his shiny blue briefs. Ryan throws his head back, panting from my commanding touch. His reaction fuels me, spurring me to move.
No, I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I am. This is the effect Ryan has on me. He pushes my hard limits, he always has. That’s why I love him. Why I’ve always loved him. He makes me feel alive.
I mimic his moves, channeling my inner Britney Spears. Rolling my body over his to the rhythm of the music, I bump and grind, amplifying the friction that’s already crackling around us. Ryan can’t keep his hands off me as I rub against him over and over. There’s heavy petting, mounting desire, and a power I’ve never felt before as we connect on a brand-new level.
I boldly sit up and straddle Ryan, shake my hair out, and smile temptingly. He runs his palms firmly up my thighs as I circle my hips in a seductive dance. I stop him with an impish finger wag before his hands travel too far. Ryan bites his lip and groans as I place his arms over his head. He strenuously watches my every move with parted lips, ragged breath, and a spellbound expression.
I begin to untie the string of my wrap dress—a white little sexy number I thought Ryan could have some fun with—ready and willing to break down all the barriers left between us. I want him here, I want him now, and I don’t give a shit that we are in the back room of a busy strip club. It doesn’t matter where we are, all that matters is that we’re together.
Slowly, still keeping with the seductive drum of the music, I unwrap one side of the dress, and then the other, revealing a blush pink, mesh bra with a diamond-studded front clasp, and panties that match. Both completely see through.
“Holy fuck, Alana,” Ryan growls, grabbing my hips and forcing my body down to his, showing me just how much he approves, his erection nearly busting out of his tight blue shorts. I brace myself with one hand on his chest and feel his heart pounding erratically underneath my fingertips. My heartbeat matches the pace of his. They throb in tandem. Calling to each other. I lean down and kiss Ryan, closing the distance between us. The physical, metaphysical, and the emotional one. If I wanted to truly know Ryan, I needed to walk a mile in his shoes, and I did. I ran a whole damn marathon. And I’m as sure now as I was five years ago that I’m committed to making this relationship work. No matter the challenges. Because we belong together. I have always known it, and tonight has proved it.
I begin to slip off my dress when Ryan suddenly stops me. “Not here.”
“Why not here?” I grip the material.
“One, because I want it deadly silent.” He traps my waist in his hands and thrusts his hips up forcing a small moan out of my mouth. “So I can hear each syllable of my name while I make you scream it.” Every single muscle south of the border clenches with searing need. “Second, I don’t want our first time to be on a leather couch that has a hundred thousand miles on it in the back of a crowded night club. Or anyone getting a glance of your ass in the air either. It’s mine.” He grabs my right butt cheek and squeezes, causing me to squeak.
“You also don’t want to give the other women any ideas?” I throw fuel on the fire.
“Something like that.” He sits up so we’re nose to nose. “You’re so fucking incredible.” Ryan kisses me slow and hard, boiling the blood in my veins and roasting the muscles in my body, signifying exactly where this night is headed. And I can’t wait.
“You ready to get out of here?” He wraps my dress back around me and ties the string, double-checking to make sure the knot is tight. I nod, reality setting in as I ingest the carnal, predatory look in his eyes.
There’s suddenly a lump in my throat the size of a boulder from anticipation and fear. Oh, God, sex with Ryan—and Jack the Stripper.
Reality has just kicked in.
We barely get into Ryan’s apartment with clothes on.
We did nothing but paw and pull and press on each other in the elevator and all the way down the hallway to his front door. My whole body is screaming for him to touch me, anywhere, everywhere. Right. Fucking. Now.
Ryan pushes me onto his bed and aggressively attacks my neck with kisses, stroking every inch of my body with persistent hands, shoving my dress up past my waist. He groans as he grinds his hips against mine. He’s ready. We both are. I think. Shit. That’s my problem, I think too much. I think about Ryan slipping out from between the beads with another woman, I think about what we did behind the curtain and wonder if he enjoyed himself as much with her as he did with me. I think about all the women he’s had, and how all I’ve ever had is him.
I need to stop thinking and get out of my own head. Shut it all off and go back to that moment where I was ready. Where I was confident. Where all I could think about was the next five minutes and nothing else.
“Alana?” Ryan breathes my name between kisses. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Nothing, why?” I attempt to kiss him back, but I’m losing momentum. Shit.
Ryan pulls away with a ‘don’t be a bullshitter’ expression. “Don’t lie to me, Alana. I can feel it, something’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong.” I try to pull his lips back to mine, but his head won’t budge. He just stares down at me with a forceful glare.
Fucker.
Resigned, I ball my fists over my eyes and sigh. “What do you want me to tell you, Ryan? I’m insecure? I’m trying not to think of all the women you have climbing all over you? Or of all the women you’ve had?” I so do not want to have this conversation right now, but I think it’s inevitable and it sucks. I’m an expert at detaching my emotions, except when it comes to Ryan. He’s the fucking antidote to my defensive poison.
“You’ve been with other people?”
“One other person, Ryan. One, other person besides you, and it was a total disaster. I don’t even think it counts.”
“What do you mean?” He’s clearly confused because we’ve never really talked about this.
We never did dredge up my intimacy issues or discuss my sexual past, if you could even call it that. One boy my sophomore year of college, the all-around nice guy I could never pull the trigger with. Even though I tried, desperately. I couldn’t muster up enough courage to go through with it. I was so messed up after what happened with Ryan, I completely shut down.
We’d start but never finish. And the one time it got to the point of penetration I absolutely freaked. We stopped speaking after that, and I swore off men ever since. It was too hard. Burying myself in school was easy. Uncomplicated.
“Intimacy is hard for me,” I confess, “because I’m always afraid I’ll wake up, and whomever I spent the night with will be gone. I didn’t want to hurt like that again.” My voice evaporates. This conversation totally sucks. I don’t want to look weak. It’s a character flaw embedded by my father. Remington’s aren’t weak. They don’t show emotion. They don’t even have emotions.
I’m not a very good Remington.
“Alana,” Ryan coos, and I want to slap him. Maybe kiss him. I’m not sure which. “I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t want you to know.”
“You have to talk to me.”
“Talking isn’t my problem, Ryan.”
Thinking is.
“You didn’t tell me how you felt, Alana. Do you really think I’m not going to be here in the morning? After everything I’ve said? After everything I’ve done?” He swipes his thumb over my cheek. His tone is firm, but his actions are affectionate. Consoling.
I shrug, because for all intents and purposes, I do believe he’ll be here tomorrow, but there’s still a hurt, eighteen-year-old girl inside me who needs to come to terms with what happened. That Ryan didn’t leave because he wanted to. He made a choice that affected more than just me. And it hurt us both equally.
“I don’t want to disappoint you,” I mumble, turning beet red. I’m pretty sure when Emily told me to be vulnerable she didn’t mean like this.
“Alana, you could never disappoint me.” He shifts while still on top of me, his eyes holding mine hostage. “I may have had more lovers than you, and I may take my clothes off for countless women, but you are the only one who can strip me bare.”
I take a deep breath as his words wash over me like holy water. The statement a baptism to my soul.
His declaration is enough. And just like I reassured him all those years ago, it will be perfect, it’s with you, he has reassured me all these years later.
We’re even now.
I smile at him. A genuine, indisputable, unquestionable smile and pull his lips to mine.
There’s no hesitation on either of our parts. It’s right. It’s the right time, with the right person, in the right place.
Ryan rips my dress open, disintegrating the string. Both of us hot and heady and breathless, and in no time at all there’s nothing between us—no clothes, or doubts, or inhibitions.
Ryan trails light kisses all over my body, starting from my neck, over my bare breasts, down my trembling torso, along my outstretched legs, and around each ankle. My skin is tingling and my core is on fire as he retraces his steps, gliding the tip of his tongue up the inside of my right thigh. “I want to hear you cry my name, Alana. I want you to cry it all night long so everyone in this fucking city knows exactly who you belong to.” He licks a slow, hot drag between my legs and I nearly fall apart. “Ryan . . .” I gasp, yanking on his hair. I feel him smirk against my skin.
“Just like that.” He licks again, and my pussy throbs. Locking his arms around my thighs he tortures me with his mouth. Providing only enough pressure to make me wet and drive me mad.
“Oh,” I try to roll my hips, desperate to gain more friction, but my lower body is imprisoned by his iron grasp. My head, my heart, my muscles, and clit are all pulsing. “Ryan, oh, God, please.” I’m not even sure what I’m begging for.
“Please, what?” He flicks his tongue against my pounding little pressure point.
“Please . . . I don’t know.” I pant.
“Make you come?”
“Yes, that. Please.” I’m falling apart. Physically and emotionally. I want Ryan, all of Ryan. I want the pinpoint of pressure in my heart and between my legs to explode at the same time and I want Ryan to hit the button.
Ryan releases my legs and draws his face up to mine, his big blue eyes blinding me with lust.
“Spread your legs for me, baby. Only me.” I do as I’m told as he eagerly nestles his erection against my slick pussy. I moan on contact. Firecrackers are about to explode inside me.
“There is only one thing I know right now.” Ryan rocks against me.
“What’s that?” I shift impatiently underneath him, every inch of me humming with electrifying need.
“We’ve been apart for way too long.” In one powerful surge he sinks inside me and it’s a clashing of souls. My body bows from the forceful intrusion and my desire sings as it’s freed from its cage. Ryan groans as he moves inside me, his body trembling as violently as mine.
“I never forgot how fucking good you feel.” His words are clipped, strained from battling with his control. He moves gently, but commandingly providing exactly what I need. What I’m starving for. Him, all of him. Invading my body and my mind. Ryan is my real. He’s my peace. My escape. My every-fucking-thing.
“I never forgot either.” I force out the words as he grinds slowly and rhythmically, a shallow burn lighting in my core. Ryan dips his head, slipping his tongue urgently between my lips before outlining them in a slow, tortuous glide. He’s driving my senses wild with both his hips and his mouth as he feverishly drags us both to the height of pleasure.
I’m completely lost as every part of him touches every part of me, my whole body tensing and pulsating, all warm and ready and desperate for him.
“Alana,” Ryan moans, almost insufferably, as I match each one of his sensuous, stabbing, soul-consuming thrusts. Reveling in the sound of his rapturous voice, I suck on his skin and nip at his neck, straining in ecstasy as he drives me harder and higher until the shallow burn becomes a raging inferno I can no longer stand.
“Fuck, Ryan!” I erupt as my orgasm implodes.
“That’s it, baby. Let go. Let. Fucking. Go.” He bites my searing skin, punching in deep, over and over as I internally combust.
The climax is so fierce I literally see stars, my body quakes, and I scream each syllable of Ryan’s name audibly and uncontrollably. Just like he said I would. Just like he wanted. And now everyone in this city knows exactly who I belong to.
I barely register Ryan stilling inside of me until I hear the raw groan tear from his throat. We’re suspended in time until he collapses on top of me, the two of us sweaty and slick and panting in a frenzy.
“I love you, Alana,” Ryan breathes. “I swear to God, I never stopped loving you. You were the only thing that got me through.” He clutches me so tightly, he cuts off my air supply.
“I wish I could have been there for you.” I slide my fingers through his hair consolingly. The thought of him alone, rotting in prison, eats away at me. Moving my fingertips down, I softly caress his bare back, his chest rising and falling against mine from his labored breathing.
“Me, too.” Ryan buries his face in the crook of my neck. “Me, too.”
“I love you.”
Something is tickling my thigh and rubbing against my cheek. I flutter my eyes open to find Ryan staring down at me.
“Tired?”
“What gave it away?” I smirk lazily.
He drops his head and places feathery kisses all over my face, his fingers grazing up my naked thigh until they’re teasing the still-sensitive flesh between my legs. I hiss.
“How long have I been sleeping?” I glance at the window. It’s still dark.
“Too long,” he hums as his hand travels up the center of my torso to one of my breasts, and massages it gently.
Mmmm.
“Wake up,” he murmurs forcing my mouth open with his, tongue firmly brushing against mine. I lift my hand to the back of his head accepting the deep kiss that is stirring all my senses. “We have five years to make up for.”
Five years? “I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow, am I?” I joke against his soft lips.
“You’re not going to
be able to walk for a week.”
“I think I’m okay with that.” I laugh.
“Alana, you make me so happy,” Ryan announces abruptly.
“I can tell.” I roll onto my side and rub my hip up against his erection.
“Not just there.” Ryan grabs my hand and brings it to his chest, putting it right over the little scar on his left pec. “Here, too.”
I peer into his cobalt blue eyes shining with emotion, his heartbeat thumping steadily under my palm.
“I’m happy, too.”
“Good.” He draws me closer, slipping one arm around my lower back and one leg between my knees. I’m virtually trapped against his body, and I love it.
“I don’t think I could survive losing you again,” he professes against my mouth, his tongue skimming my bottom lip.
“You don’t have to worry about that, I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’ll never know how much it hurt being apart.” His tone is so raw.
“I know how much it hurt, Ryan. You left me, remember?”
“I didn’t leave, Alana. I was stripped from you.” Ryan rolls on top of me and pins my hands over my head with a fierce expression. “And it will never happen again.”
My heart beats wildly against my ribcage as I scan over his serious face. Ryan said he made a choice, but I don’t think it was ever a choice. Especially after that statement. He once told me Sean is the one person he could never turn his back on. And he didn’t, even when it meant he would lose everything. Which he did. But that’s Ryan. He’s ferocious and loyal and he loves intrepidly. How many people can you say that about?
“I hope not. Because if you leave me high and dry again, I’ll find you.” I wrap my legs around his waist, the force causing him to grunt on contact. “And when I do, I’ll make sure you understand the true definition of pain.”
