And just like that, we were naked.
There was no slow build up, no anxious reveal, and no awkward ‘does he like the way I look without clothes on’ moment. It was quick, hasty, rushed, and perfect. It was also a relief. A relief to finally be bare with him, bare to him. My naked skin was pressed up against his and we were simply together. Having his bare skin touching mine gave my body the same satisfaction as a loud and heavy sigh, as if I’d been waiting for that contact my whole life and finally, it was happening. I didn’t realize my body had been waiting for this.
He was still pressed up against my side, his leg thrown over mine, and his hand began to wander over my body, trailing from my neck, down over my breast, past my navel, causing involuntary shudders. When his fingers gently parted me, softly teasing the most sensitive area of my body, he finally spoke.
“Are you all right?” he asked, still trailing his fingers just outside of my opening, causing my toes to curl into the mattress with anticipation.
I nodded urgently, silently begging him to simply undo me, to touch me where I’d been craving the feel of his hands for weeks. When his fingers slipped into me, he kissed me at the same time and all I could do was release a moan into him. His tongue moved to the same rhythm as his fingers, and the effect was maddening. He pushed in, then pulled out, so lazily that my mind was screaming at him to quicken his pace, to do something more than tease me.
My hips began to meet his hand at every thrust, trying to elicit more from him, to take more than he was willing to give me. Finally, his fingers moved into me and stayed pressed inside, and his mouth came away from mine.
“You’re perfect,” he said, his mouth just a hair’s breadth from mine, his fingers reaching far inside me, then stroking upward. He held my gaze for a moment, watching me writhe beneath his hand, then his gaze traveled down my body, watching his hand work me over.
I gasped at the sensation, his fingers moving over my g-spot so intensely, so acutely, every muscle from my belly button down was tense and moving toward rigid. My knees drew up and my hands reached out and wrapped themselves around his bicep, simply looking for a way to ground me to him. He was going to push me over the edge quickly, I could tell. My body, primed for this for weeks now, was simply not going to last much longer without giving him what he wanted.
Just when I was at the very rim of my orgasm, about to plummet into bliss, he pulled his fingers away and slowly stroked my wetness, up and down. The abrupt change in sensation and tempo had me reeling, keening, and nearly panicked. My body both loved and hated what he’d done; loved the way his wet fingers felt against the hot, warm skin of my labia, but hated the absence of the wound-tight feeling in my core. The feeling was like picking up a music box and turning the dial on the bottom. You turn and turn, and slowly the dial becomes more difficult to move, harder to twist, until you get to a point where it simply won’t turn anymore and you feel like if you were to turn it just one tiny fraction more it would burst and fall apart in a million miniscule fragments. That’s what it was to have Riot’s fingers inside me—like being wound to the point of fissure. Only, just when the glorious point of fracture approached, his fingers retreated, along with my orgasm.
As he used his fingers to lazily spread a trail of my wetness all around my opening, his mouth found my nipple, pulling it in and sucking hard. I mewled, of course, because my body didn’t care about pretenses or politeness around Riot or his mouth and hands. My body simply wanted to find that place where he was going to give me that ultimate high. So when he used his mouth, no matter where, my body was going to agree—quite loudly.
“I could never have imagined how hot it would be to see you like this,” he said, his mouth still pressed against the swell of my breast. “You’re so needy,” he mumbled, taking my nipple in his mouth again. “I want to give you whatever it is you need.”
My response was another moan.
“Tell me what you need.”
“I need you back inside me,” I managed, but only out of necessity. My words barely audible because my body would have performed any number of miracles at that moment to only get him back to the place where his fingers made my world fall away.
“Like this?” he asked as he slid two fingers in again.
“Mmm…,” was my response.
Then his fingers worked inside me while his mouth took my nipple again, and his free hand found mine and our fingers laced together. His hand worked faster, gradually speeding up and applying more pressure until I was crying out and writhing on the bed. His mouth pulled away from my breast and his face lowered to mine, our gazes locking as I panted and brought my hand to his face, holding him there so I could see his caramel-colored eyes as I finally reached my peak.
That familiar ball of tension built in my core, radiating outward, tingling all the way down to my toes. My breath hitched, my heart thundered, and then the wave of release swept through me.
“Yes,” he growled slowly. “That’s it, baby.” He slowly pumped his fingers in and out of me, letting me fall back down to him from my high. “You’re so beautiful when you come,” he said, his lips moving down my throat again as I was still trying to return to normal. “I can’t wait to feel you around my cock, gripping me, clenching like that.”
He pulled his hand from me, then rolled back on top of me, settling between my legs. He kissed me again, this time slow, but deep. When he lifted from me he was holding out the condom.
“Would you like to do the honors?” He was smiling and I couldn’t help but smile back.
I took the condom from him. “Lean back,” I whispered. He did as he was told and sat back on his ankles. When I moved to sit up I realized that in our haste to become naked I hadn’t gotten a good look at him, so I let my eyes wander while I had him at my disposal. His tanned skin looked good in moonlight and his body was simply covered in muscle.
My eyes fell to his cock and my breath caught in my throat. He was gorgeous and perfect, just like I knew he would be: long, thick, but not overwhelming. I reached my hand out to touch him, wanting to feel him without the barrier of the condom. My fingers shook, but when I reached him I confidently wrapped my hand around him and slid all the way down to the base.
He groaned and I smiled, liking the idea that I was making him feel good.
“You’ve got a great dick,” I said as I stroked him up and down.
“He’s never steered me wrong,” Riot said, his eyes closed, head tilted back, obviously enjoying the attention. I swirled my thumb over his head, spreading the milky precum around, watching his face as I touched him. His eyes scrunched closed and he moaned, but then his hands were on my shoulders and his eyes were looking right into mine. “Kal, I’ve got to get inside you, like now.”
I smiled and opened the condom then rolled it down his length, which was even fuller and firmer than before. Once he was covered, he quickly pressed me back into the mattress, one hand gripping me behind my shoulder while the other grabbed my ass and hauled it up toward him.
“Are you all right?” he asked again, his eyes full of affection and concern. He was asking for permission and it was adorable. I wanted every part of him in that moment: his sweetness, his roughness, his ownership. I wanted to be everything to him. But all I could do was bite my bottom lip and nod.
His eyes flitted down to my sex, and I watched as he lined himself up with my opening. When his eyes found me again, they stayed on mine as he slowly pushed into me, inch by inch, until he was so deep I thought he’d found a way to bore into my heart. Once he was all the way in, filling me, stretching me, I let out a sound that was half moan, half sigh, and my head fell back with pleasure.
“Holy fuck, Kalli. You’re perfect. It’s perfect. So fucking sweet.” His head was shaking back and forth, as if he didn’t even believe the words himself, couldn’t wrap his mind around the way it felt. But it was perfect. I’d never felt so right with someone before, and all he’d done was enter me. All we were, in that moment, was a connectio
n. But it was perfect.
After a few blissful moments of just feeling each other, he slowly pulled out, all the way to the tip, then slid back in, groaning the whole way. “I knew it would be good, Kal. I knew it would be amazing. But I never thought it would feel this way.” He continued to pump in and out, slowly building up speed and tempo.
All I could do was grip him, pulling him closer to me, hoping that at the end of everything I would still be whole and the totality of me would still be intact.
Riot might have been the most present lover I’d ever had. He was constantly talking, checking in, and whispering things to me, at me. I couldn’t always respond because, well, Riot. But his words never ceased to affect me.
“God, it’s good,” he rasped.
“Do you feel how perfectly I fit inside of you?” he groaned into my neck.
“You’re everything,” he whispered against my lips just before kissing me.
He pushed me higher and higher, using my body to get the most perfect fit he could find, listening to my body and its reactions, handling me, molding me to him.
It was when he turned me onto my side at the hips, both legs together and pressed into the mattress, with his hands pinning my shoulders down, as he thrust quickly into me, that I found my release. And while usually I felt my orgasms from the waist down, this one gripped me in my chest and shot outward, causing my back to arch off the bed and a loud moan to rip from me.
“Shit,” he groaned, taking long strokes through me. “I’ll never get this image out of my head. I’ll never be able to forget what you feel like, wrapped around me, squeezing me as you come.”
His words did nothing to help calm me, but I didn’t have time to think about that because suddenly he pulled out, grabbed my hips, and flipped me so my stomach was on the bed. Then he lifted my hips and my knees naturally found their footing under me. In no time at all he was back inside me, gliding in and out, hitting new spots, and I found myself on that familiar climb again, my core tightening around him.
Then I felt his front against me, and his arms wrapped around my shoulders as he pulled me up to him so that we were both kneeling on the bed. My back was up against his front, and his hands snaked around my body, one coming to rest over my breast, the other finding my clit, and his mouth was at my ear. Every single sense was overwhelmed. I could only hear his breath and his words and he pumped his hips up, thrusting forcefully into me. My skin was hyperaware of his, where we touched, when his skin moved against mine. Each nerve ending was in shock and begging for reprieve, but it felt too good to stop. The musky scent of us swirled around me and my eyes watched his hand furiously rub against my clit, asking me to come again. When I licked my lips the tang of salt was there.
“I’m going to come again,” I managed, the build-up too intense.
“I know,” was his response, and it drove me that much closer to the edge. “I’m going to come with you this time.”
I groaned, both at his words and the images they conjured up in my mind, but also at his hard, thick cock stroking in and out of me at such a bruising pace. It was glorious. My hands reached back and fought to hold on to anything I could grasp; his shoulder, his hip, I was trying to stay grounded in him. I was moaning continually, my cries punctuated by his thrusts, and I was inching closer and closer until finally I felt the heat ignite in my core and every muscle seize up.
“I’m coming,” I cried, although I wasn’t sure my words were audible; it was very possible I hadn’t said anything at all, or that I was mumbling incoherently. All I knew was I was on the precipice and he was dragging me over.
“Fuck.” Riot’s voice carried throughout the bedroom as he groaned and growled, pumping into me as my orgasm flashed through me, reaching every last part of my body. I knew he’d finished coming when his hips stopped pumping and his voice had quieted, and it was all I could do to reach out and press my hands against the wall behind the headboard to keep myself from falling forward and breaking our connection; I wasn’t ready for that yet.
His hands moved slowly all over my body: around my hips, up my back, over my shoulders. He shuddered, then slid out of me, sinking to the bed and pulling me backward on to his lap. I was limp and lifeless, still not fully in control, my hands reaching for support from the wall, his lips moving kisses up my spine.
“I can’t wait to do that again,” he said against the skin of my back.
It was all I could do to laugh and collapse on the bed. He followed me, landing on his back, removing the condom, then tying it off and dropping it to the floor.
“I don’t know if that’s possible,” I said, but it sounded more like a sigh. His arm pulled me to him, spooning me against his sweat-slicked body. Usually, at that juncture, I’d pick up my clothes, get dressed and make excuses as to why I had to leave. I’d lied about meetings, having to work early, girlfriends having emergencies; you name it, I’d lied about it. All to avoid what was happening in that moment with Riot. Intimacy. Closeness. Emotions. Permanence. I’d avoided those at all costs before, but right then, in his arms, I wouldn’t have left for anything. I wanted nothing more than to lie in that bed and soak him in. I wanted to let his arms fall around me, hold me close, and snuggle in. Spend a night asleep in his arms. Spend a morning making love again, and in the sunlight, too. “I’m not sure that’s something we can recreate.” I sounded more wistful than I intended and inwardly cringed at the sappiness of my words.
“Maybe not, but I’m more than willing to try,” he responded, his voice mirroring my own, full of warmth. He sat up suddenly and pulled the comforter down beneath us, then lay back, arms open wide, splayed against the crisp sheets. “Come here,” he whispered.
There was absolutely nothing I could do except go to him. My head naturally found its way to the crook of his shoulder and my arm draped across his chest. Lined up like that it became painfully obvious I was much shorter than him, as my feet only reached his shins.
I smiled because I liked feeling small next to him. It brought unfamiliar feelings of security, and instead of pushing those feelings away, for once, I decided to let them stay and keep me company as I fell asleep wrapped around the only man who I’d ever let in that deep.
Chapter Fourteen
Make it Official
I woke the next morning to the smell of bacon and the sound of Riot softly saying my name.
“Kalli, baby, wake up. Time to eat.”
My eyes fluttered open and I focused on Riot’s handsome face hovering just above mine, his boyish grin turning up the corners of his lips. I stretched under the covers, noticing my body ached, but not uncomfortably so. It was a good ache.
“Hey,” I garbled sleepily. Then my eyebrows furrowed and my mouth turned into a pout. “Did you make bacon?”
“I did, indeed,” he said, laughing and sitting back, holding a plate out for me. I sat up and brushed my hair back from my face, then leaned against the headboard. The plate he handed me was covered with scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and hash browns. The sight of the food, coupled with the wonderful smell, kicked my hunger into overdrive and I realized I was starving.
Riot walked around the bed and picked up another plate from the table on his side and slid in next to me, careful not to spill his food. Then he picked up his fork and started eating as I watched in a state of shock.
We were going to eat breakfast in bed, yet another thing I’d never done with a man, and he was going to act like it was the most natural thing on the planet. He noticed my slack jaw and wide eyes.
“Do you not like your eggs scrambled?” he asked with a full mouth, which should have been repulsive but came across as adorable.
“Um, no. I mean, yes, I like my eggs scrambled. What….” I closed my eyes for just a moment to gather up my thoughts and get them in line. “Where did all this food come from? Ella and Porter haven’t been here in a while and they don’t usually keep food like this in the house.”
“I drove to the grocery store,” he said, shruggin
g, then piling another forkful of food into his mouth. I tried not to notice his lips as the fork was pulled back through them.
“How’d you know where the grocery store was? I’m not even sure I know where it is.”
“I saw it when we got into town, and again last night as I drove us home.”
“You drove my Rover to the grocery store? While I was sleeping?”
He had the audacity to laugh at my outrage.
“Chill out, babe. Your food’s getting cold.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, but couldn’t argue with the growls coming from my belly, so I picked up my fork and started eating. I managed to tamp down the groans that I wanted so badly to release at the taste of the food, not wanting to stroke Riot’s ego any more than necessary.
“So, what would you like to do today?” he asked between bites.
“Well,” I said just before swallowing. “We could stay in Lincoln City, go to the beach, or walk around the waterfront. Although, it’s really not being-outside-at-the-Oregon-Coast weather. We could drive back north and stop in Portland and do something there, or we could go all the way to Seattle and figure it out later.”
“Or…,” he said, a smile coming over his face. “We could stay here, naked, and watch movies between all the sex.”
“All the sex?” I asked, laughing. “You think this is like some sort of buffet?”
“That is a very interesting proposal.”
I scoffed. “It’s not a proposal.”
“I think you’d let me make you into a buffet if I really wanted to.” His voice dropped low and I tried to ignore the blush I felt creeping over my face.
Never Standing Still Page 15
