by Zoe York
“Don’t laugh at me,” she murmured, watching through lust-heavy eyes as he thrust slowly, each wet plunge lifting her higher and spinning her faster. Vaguely aware that her legs were starting to shake, the muscles burning, she tried to relax back against the bed, but that wasn’t what she wanted. Curling up, she propped herself up on her elbows, the sight of Ryan’s head between her legs just as hot as the magical things he was doing with his tongue. And his lips. Oh God. He covered her entire sex, kissing her now, sucking on the lips and circling her clit with the tip of his tongue, then sucking there, and she threw her head back, the electric tug sending a bolt through her entire body. Her legs now twitched out of control, and she collapsed, wrapping her thighs around his head—try not to kill him, Holly, you’re going to want him to do this again—as she catapulted into a stunning climax, complete with fireworks behind her eyes and a sexy, muscular man to catch her as she floated back down to terra firma.
Ryan slid up her body. He kissed her after she caught her breath, then rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. She braced her hands on either side of his head as he cupped her breasts together, kissing her nipples, then sucking one deep into his mouth, leaving it wet and hard and ready for more when he licked across to the other. More came in the form of his thumb, stroking around the wet peak in a lazy pattern that worked a direct current straight to her core. She rocked against his thick, muscled middle, an ache building inside her. She wanted to be filled by him, stretched to her limits.
She wanted him inside her.
Lifting her hips, she rocked down his body, her naked centre finding his tented boxers. He groaned as she ghosted over him, a desperate feeling she recognized in herself—every muscle and cell in her body was crying out to submit to this man, let him claim her in the most elemental way. Working her way down between his knees, she grabbed his boxer waistband and stripped him bare, getting her first look at his cock.
Thick, long, and curved, his erection bobbed in the air, leaning toward his left hip. Dark curls surrounded his sex, but his balls were mostly bare, and all of his most sensitive skin was a dark, dusky pink and beautiful. She circled his shaft with her fingers, loving the way he gasped as she started to stroke him. The crown of his penis was exposed, glistening with pre-come, but as she jerked him she realized he must not be circumcised, because his foreskin slid effortlessly up the head with the movement of her hand.
Blinking ever so slowly, she found his gaze, burning as he looked at her looking at him, and she smiled and licked her lips.
— —
Ryan wanted to freeze time and stretch out this moment in Holly’s trailer as long as he could. She was sitting between his legs, curled up on her hip, one hand bracing herself next to his thigh, the other wrapped about his cock like it was an ice cream cone she was about to lick.
When she did, he was going to do his damnedest not to come all over her face.
His pulse was rocking, wild and out of control, and his mouth was dry and hot as he stared at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips wet and swollen, and they both smelled like sex. Private madness. He wanted to preserve this moment forever.
As she twisted onto her knees, her ass rising in the air behind her, her golden hair falling to the side, he fought to keep his eyes open. Too easy to give in to the feeling and rut against her hot breath, find her lips and slide into her hot little mouth.
That would feel too good. Too much. Too perfect. And he’d be lost. So he held himself back and let her set the pace. Slow. Teasing. Her tongue met his cock softly, licking beneath the head, then around and down, circling like her fingers had. Her hand slid lower, squeezing him at the base. He flexed into her touch and she made a pleased sound.
“You’re so beautiful.” He reached for her head as he said the rough words, and she leaned her cheek into his touch before lifting up and taking just the head into her mouth.
He’d been wrong. There was nothing too much about this. It was just right.
But he couldn’t keep still. His hips jerked, driving his shaft between her lips, and she gobbled him down, their urgency apparently shared. Moaning around him, she bobbed her head, his shaft slick now with her spit. She wasn’t working him too hard, wasn’t trying to make him come. It just felt good. Amazing, really. He sank into that feeling, letting himself enjoy what Holly was giving him.
The gift of happiness. Of pleasure.
He hadn’t known it could be like this again—although this was different, too. Special in its own way, uniquely made from the two of them. Memories hovered in the background, but there wasn’t room for anyone else right now.
He’d deal with that thought later. Right now, he was all Holly’s.
He wanted to touch her. Spin her around and have her sit on his face. Fuck, they didn’t have enough time for all the ways he wanted to worship her body. Stroking his hands over her shoulders, he tapped her side and she looked up, her mouth sliding off him with a wet pop.
He’d meant for her to twist to the side so he could finger her or something, but the wide-eyed, wet-mouthed, sloppy-happy-fuck me face she gave him was too much.
“I need you,” he said hoarsely, then they were kissing and spinning and grinding, the world all upside down and crazy and perfect he just couldn’t handle it.
“Condom,” she gasped, and he found one blindly with his right hand as she sucked his tongue into her mouth, refusing to let him go even as he sheathed himself.
Once protected, he hovered over her, one hand next to her cheek, the other fisting himself between them. “Ready?”
“Oh God, yeah,” she whispered, lifting her hips in invitation. Her softness brushed his tip and he pressed in, just a bit. Just enough to seat himself in her entrance. Already she felt snug and hot, and as he stroked in a bit, she cried out, tightening her hold on his torso.
She was so tight, it felt like he must be hurting her, but she rocked and ground against him, welcoming each gentle thrust. “Okay?”
“Soooo okay,” she panted, grinning up at him. “It’s just been a while.”
“You feel incredible.” He lowered his weight onto her, pulsing gently with his hips as she slowly stretched around him, taking him fully into her body. Kissing her softly, their lips lingering together, he pulled almost all the way out, dragging his length out of where it wanted to be, so he could thrust deep again. Worth the aching loss of her heat to feel that clutching sensation as she tightened around him.
Over and over again, he pistoned his hips, surging into her, and she met him on each stroke, fucking him from below. She circled her hips and rocked her pelvis, finding all the spots where they rubbed together just right. When she gasped at the same time as something perfect rubbed against the sensitive spot right behind the head of his dick, they both froze and looked at each other, not wanting to lose that connection.
“Is that good for you?” she breathed.
He huffed a laugh. “Oh yeah.”
“Keep doing that. Yeah, just…Oh, God. Ryan!” She went wild beneath him, writhing as she found her pleasure from where he was buried deep inside her. His balls were already tight, ready to explode as soon as he picked up the pace.
“Hold on,” he grunted, and he wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself or her, but she wrapped tight around him as he let himself fly, carrying her with him as he chased the best feeling in the world. Higher, faster, right there. Their bodies moved as one, Ryan thrusting hard into Holly as he braced his hand against the wall to keep her head from slamming into it. Her heels dug into his ass, her teeth grazing his pecs as she shuddered beneath him, seizing. And inside, she squeezed him hard, once, twice, three times before devolving into fluttering little clutches that milked his own release deep inside her.
— SEVENTEEN —
LIMBS entwined, they lay together in her cozy trailer. Ryan had rolled away long enough to deal with the condom, then pulled her close again, and she pressed a line of soft kisses down his arm. It had been so good.
And n
ot nearly enough. When Ryan rolled her onto her stomach, kissing his way down her back, she readily lifted her hips so he could enter her all over again from behind.
She was coming practically from the first thrust through her sensitized folds. When he realized she was already there, he gripped her hips and powered into her, taking his own pleasure rough and fast before collapsing beside her again. She grabbed his fingers and kissed them breathlessly. “Wow.”
“That was a bit wild that time.”
She just smiled. “Wild is good.” No, he deserved more than that. “Or so I’m discovering.” She rolled her lower lip through her teeth, still feeling that hum of arousal coursing through her blood. Really? After three orgasms? “I’ve never had sex quite like this before.”
He’d shifted away to get rid of the second condom, and now whipped his head back, looking at her incredulously. “What?”
“You know… all reckless, wild abandon and that kind of thing.” Frowning a bit, she reached for the right words. “It takes a level of…trust. Like I said, I trust you with my secrets, Ryan.”
He relaxed into the pillow next to her as his gaze searched her face. “Why me?”
“Because…” She shook her head. “It’s hard to explain.”
He shrugged. “Try me.”
“Being famous…it doesn’t make it any easier to date. That sounds so sad panda of me. God. I’m not complaining about my life. I’m blessed with a wonderful career that allows me to escape from my mother as often as I want, but still support her with ease because I’m pretty sure that’s why I was put on this earth.” She groaned. “But it doesn’t make it any easier to find the handful of people in this world that I just click with, you know? I don’t have more friends than other people. If anything, I have fewer, because there are all these other layers that I need to wade through to know if I can trust someone. So take that and add in the intimacy of sharing my body and my heart…it’s…”
She rolled her face toward her pillow, running out of words and feeling embarrassed. Her hair draped between them, and Ryan didn’t push it out of the way. He just skated his fingertips down her spine, leaving a lazy trail of awareness in their wake. He stopped in the small of her back and started drawing circles there. “I think I get it. I’m the same way now because of how Lynn died. I feel exposed and wary, I guess.”
It was a small window of opportunity, and she didn’t know if the time was right, but she was going to try and squeeze through it anyway. “This was your first time since she died, wasn’t it?”
He was nodding slowly when she twisted onto her side and looked at him. “Yeah.”
“Was it okay?” She said it earnestly, and when he started laughing, she scowled at him. “Not like that. I know it was good. You rocked my world. But I mean…emotionally. Are you okay with it?”
He just looked at her, but his eyes didn’t go cold and his lips stayed soft. He’s really giving it some thought. And not running scared, she realized with relief. She gave him a small smile and waited, quietly tugging up the sheet they’d shoved down the bed in their exuberance. Maybe best to be covered for moving the conversation from sex to emotions.
But as she wrapped the lush Egyptian cotton around her, he reached out and pulled her close anyway.
“I’ve been worried since I met you, about disrespecting Lynn’s memory,” he started, his voice quiet. “I’ve gone to a support group, a bereaved spouses thing. And we’ve talked about moving on, but it’s…different in theory than in reality. There’s this guilt. And I don’t feel it all the time, but then it tugs at me after the fact.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, an ache building in her chest.
“No…I don’t feel it right now. And I don’t want to feel it anymore. That might be easier said than done, but—“ He tensed, and she froze, not knowing what to say or if there was anything she even could say. “I don’t want to say anything that might make this awkward for you.”
“Hey, I’m pretty boneless right now. How about you trust me to know that your feelings are complicated and that’s okay?” She kissed his chest. “You still love her. If she hadn’t died, you’d still be happily married and I’d never know how good you are at all of this naughty stuff. That’s okay. It’s all true. Not saying it doesn’t make it disappear.”
“It’s not all true.” He inhaled roughly. “Yes, I loved her. Always will. She was my wife, and the mother of my children. When she danced with Maya, I thought my heart would explode with happiness. But we weren’t happy. And that’s my fault. I should have done something. Counselling, a weekend away, try to reconnect with her. I don’t know. And I don’t know why I’m telling you this, because you’re right. If she was still here, I wouldn’t have…we wouldn’t have talked. I would’ve noticed you from afar as the pretty movie lady and moved on with my life.”
She nodded, trying to process that at the same time as giving him some space to do the same. When it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything else, she spoke quietly, choosing her words with care. “You know I’ve got issues with my mom. And they don’t compare or anything, I’m not saying that. But I tried a lot of different therapy once I was a grown-up, and the advice that helped me the most was a Buddhist quote. ‘Forgiveness means letting go of the hope for a better past.’ You won’t be able to forgive yourself for not doing things differently until you stop wishing things were different.”
“I can’t,” he said, his words strained. With a jerk, she looked up at his face, and he twisted away, like he didn’t want her to realize he was close to tears. “I’ll always want things to be different for my kids. They deserve their mother.”
“I can’t argue with that. I don’t want to. But they’ve got an awesome father who stepped up to the plate, Ryan.”
He snorted, his face still tipped up to the ceiling. “So awesome that I ditched church with them to have sex.”
“Were you going to church otherwise?” She’d known him for almost three months, and never once had he gone before. He carried enough guilt, he didn’t need to add that to the pile.
He closed his eyes, a wry smile curling up one side of his mouth. “No.”
“Then shut up.”
— —
Holly let him use her shower, then dried his hair for him, making an actor joke about continuity errors as she restored him to his pre-fucked look.
On the inside, though, he was permanently altered—both by the amazing sex, and the unexpectedly emotional conversation afterward. When they kissed goodbye, he poured all the gratitude he could muster into it. Words wouldn’t do his feelings justice.
After she peeked outside and confirmed the coast was clear, he took one last firm taste of her lips and headed for his truck, going the long way around the block to avoid anyone he might know.
He grinned to himself as he steered his truck out of town, past the home of Colonel Foster, father of Dean, Jake, Matt and Sean. Their old man did the parenting thing on his own, and his kids turned out all right. Even Sean had buckled down after a rocky couple of years at the end of his teens. Baby Foster was now gearing up for his overseas tour as a lieutenant. Had to fucking salute him and everything.
Jake had tried to tell Ryan that it would work out, months ago. He hadn’t been ready to hear it.
Now he still didn’t want to hear it. Wasn’t ready to accept that he was all his kids had. But Holly was right. Wishing it was different wouldn’t change anything.
By the time he pulled into the driveway for a different Foster—Jake, and by extension, Dani—he was feeling something that felt a lot like calm. Settled.
He wasn’t the only guest for a late post-church lunch, it looked like. Rafe’s truck was parked in front of the garage, and Matt’s was around the side of the house.
Inside, he found almost the entire Minelli and Foster combined clan. Apparently Sean and Dean had hopped in Matt’s truck, and Tom had biked over, and they were all crowded into Jake’s office at the front of the house with Rafe, listeni
ng to sports radio and yelling about something.
Ryan did a quick count. The only one missing was Zander. The older generation were also absent, but with the noise level his kids were generating, that probably wasn’t a bad thing.
“What the heck is going on in here?” he asked as he strolled into the great room. Living room at one end, eat-in kitchen at the other, the room was both a shining example of the high-end construction Jake was capable of, and a comfortable family-centred space.
And with the hand print artwork Dani had taped to the walls, courtesy of his monsters he was sure, it tilted a bit heavier to the latter right now.
Jake paused mid swing, his hands still around Gavin’s ankles. Ryan stared at his friend, and his suspended in mid-air seven-year-old.
“I’m a clock,” Gavin said, giggling.
“All right, carry on.” Ryan scooped up Maya, inspecting her hands for paint, but he didn’t find any. “Did you do art work with Aunt Dani?”
“Last time. Today we went to church.”
“And was that fun?”
“Mmm-hmmm. I went to Sunday School and made a spring basket to put prayers in.”
Ryan was pretty sure something was lost in the translation there, but he nodded and smiled as his daughter wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed, still telling her story about the teacher and the prayers and thinking of others. It all sounded pretty good in Maya’s sweetly squeaking voice. “That’s great.”
“Do you want to come next week, Daddy?”
“Maybe, boo. Maybe. Where’s Jack?” He’d heard his oldest crowing about something when he came inside, but now that he’d covered most of the main floor, the nine-year-old was missing.
“Dani’s teaching him to cook.” Maya leaned, pointing to the kitchen, and sure enough, there was his kid wearing an apron and proudly waving a spatula on the far side of his friend and former co-worker. Across the room, Olivia waved at him as she glanced up from typing something on her phone.
