by Eden Summers
Everything grew dark under the weight of rapture. She leaned down, delirious and searching for clarity as she placed her head against his shoulder, still rocking with his penetration.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this.”
“Stop swearing,” she panted, shaking her head to fight his hold.
“Why?”
“Because it’s so fucking sexy.” She couldn’t take much more.
His low chuckle tickled her, burning her nerves and increasing his power.
“Wait until I start to fuck you.” His voice traveled from the sensitive spot below her ear. “Wait until my face is between your thighs and you’re fucking my mouth.”
“Ryan,” she warned. At least she thought it was a warning. In her head, she sounded stern. Authoritative. Yet, in her ears, the word had seemed oddly fragile. More like a plea.
“I’m going to fuck you until you know you’re mine.” He licked her earlobe and grazed the sensitive flesh between his teeth. “I’m going to make you come over and over until you’re addicted to me, like I’m addicted to you. And between now and then, there’s going to be a lot of therapeutic cursing heading your way.”
She shuddered, head to toe, pussy to breasts. She never imagined him this way. Her fantasies were filled with gentle Ryan. Sweet, thoughtful Ryan. That man had been enough to make her wet on the darkest of days. But this guy, the one with the silver tongue and filthy mouth was going to kill her. One orgasm at a time.
“Stop. Talking.” She wanted control. At least a little bit. Yet he tore it from her. He stole her sense and used it against her, his thumb now stroking over her clit jewelry like he owned it.
“Less talk, more action?”
He sucked her neck, hard, the skin burning under his lips. She dug her nails into his back, unable to stop herself from riding his fingers harder. She was close, so close. With each breath her pussy clenched, clamping down on him, threatening to take over.
“I’m…” Her orgasm hit, the fluttering overload creating senselessness. She made noise, made movements, all of them without thought as she clung to him, pulling him tighter and tighter into her chest. He whispered as she came, words with a lilt of love and affection. She struggled to understand him, tried to focus, but she was drowning. There was no escape until heaven receded and her gasps became proper breaths.
They remained silent as she gained control, her sense of self-preservation almost within her grasp when he removed his fingers from her pussy, clutched her ass, and dragged her from the counter.
She squealed—a girlie, weak sound.
“You’re a squealer?” He led her to the bed, placing her down softly on the mattress, her nightie falling back into place.
“I am not.”
He straightened, standing tall to stare down at her splayed before him. “I’m pretty sure that was a squeal.”
She narrowed her gaze, ignoring the need to grin. “And I’m pretty sure your life will be over if you ever repeat what you heard.”
He chuckled, his panty-melting smile killing her as he unbuckled his belt. “Duly noted.” His erection bulged against his zipper, his length becoming more evident when he shucked his pants. She held her breath, swallowed, and gripped the bed coverings tighter in an effort not to squirm. He was truly magnificent. She didn’t know how anyone could ever let a man like this slip through their fingers. It was stupidity. Insanity.
He met her gaze as he dragged his boxers below his knees and stepped out of them. The desire to lick her lips was undeniable. Everything inside her itched to lower her attention. To take in every inch of him. To lavish in all the parts of him she’d never laid eyes on. The need to stare at his nakedness a living breathing thing. Instead, she focused on his eyes, letting his confidence wash over her to smother all the reasons this shouldn’t be happening.
“Go on.” His voice was low, gravel-rich. “Look your fill.”
Cocky bastard. But she did. She lowered her eyes and took in the sight before her, from his muscled shoulders, the defined pecs and trail of hair from his navel all the way down to his crotch. His cock stood proud, thick, the veins of his shaft bulging.
Yep, truly magnificent.
She clenched her thighs, unable to deny the need for friction. “Come here.”
He complied, kneeling on the bed. He spread her legs, his attention on her face, not on the parts of her body he exposed as her nightie climbed up her thighs. “Take this off for me.”
Her heart stuttered and she gripped the silken material to pull it over her head.
He looked her over, so slow, so leisurely, his gaze raking her as if she was a newly acquired masterpiece. Then he stopped, his head bowing as his eyes clamped shut.
“Ryan?” Her stomach turned as she waited for a response.
“Give me a minute.”
Why? Was he caught up in thoughts of his wife? Felicity? Hannah? Christ, was he thinking this was a mistake?
When he finally lifted his chin, pure conviction stared back at her.
“I know you’re worried,” he started. “But I can’t go back from this. I can’t give you space anymore. Not even time. I just can’t. I’ve wanted you for too long to ever return to friendship.”
She nodded.
“No, you don’t get it.” He kept punishing her with his sincerity. “This is us now. We’re together. You’re mine.”
She blinked to fight the burn. “I’ve always been yours.”
His muscles bunched, pulling taut. “You’ve got no idea what it means to hear that.”
“I think I do.” She reached up, placed a hand around his neck and pulled him on top of her. “Because I feel the same.”
His heavy body covered hers, the hardness of his chest pressing into her breasts. Arousal seeped from her core, the slickness of her pussy out of control. While one hand tangled in his hair, she ran the other between them and brushed her palm over his cock.
He hissed, the aggressive sound nirvana through her veins. He gyrated into her hold, working himself in a slow rhythm as he stared down at her, his lips close, his heart even closer. She could read his thoughts, the dirty ones making her shiver and the hopeful ones inspiring heart ache.
He wasn’t holding back. She could see he wanted all of her, not just her body, not just her friendship. He’d ransack her soul if given the chance. And she wasn’t sure she should let him. Not when being with him could mean the end of all the things that defined her.
“Don’t think so loud.” She squeezed the head of his shaft, delighting in another hiss.
“Then don’t deny me,” he growled. “Stop worrying. Stop obsessing over the negative thoughts.”
He ground into her, her hand falling away as his cock nudged her entrance. She arched into the sensation, allowing him to slide into her, his length sinking deep. Her core contracted around him, another emotion-inspired orgasm already hovering close.
His palm glided over her waist, her ribs, to the curve of her breast. His thumb stroked lazily over her nipple, forward, back, forward, back, the slow tempo mimicking the way he began to move inside her.
His mouth found hers and their rhythm increased. The brushes of his thumb became harder, the glide of his tongue a lascivious swipe, the grind of his hips so painstakingly deep. Then everything stopped—sound, movement, pleasure.
“Shit.” He withdrew and shoved from the bed.
“What is it?” She scrambled onto her elbows, tracking his movements as he lunged for his pants.
“Protection.” He pulled out his wallet, his cheeks flushed with arousal, embarrassment or maybe even guilt.
“It’s OK.” She held out her hand. “Give it here.”
He handed over the wallet and fixed her with a chaste grin. “I’m not used to…”
“I wouldn’t want you to be.” She didn’t want him to finish his sentence. She didn’t want Julie in this room, or anyone else, for that matter.
“It’s in one of the side compartments.”
He climbed
back between her legs, paying homage with his lips to the inside of her thighs, her hip, her stomach. His attention was a delirious distraction as she ransacked his wallet, pulling out business cards and old receipts until she found her prize.
“Got it.” The foil was scratched and crinkled, her fingers flicking over something rough on the other side. She flipped the small square and found a piece of paper stuck to the packaging. A tiny blue Post-It that read—Enjoy the ride, bucko. Love Taiden.
“Does Sean usually leave love letters on your condoms?”
“What?” He paused, his lips poised above the curve of her breast.
“Yep.” She held up the note and tried not to laugh as he squinted at the writing.
“Everyone’s a comedian.” He snatched the paper and threw it aimlessly. “God knows how long that’s been there.”
She wondered, too. Had it been days? Weeks? Months? “Make sure you thank him for the well wishes.”
“Yeah,” he grated. “I will.”
His hand covered hers, the foil packet disappearing with his retreat. With a bite of his teeth, the wrapper was opened, the protection removed. Then he was gripping the base of his shaft in one hand and placing the condom over the head of his cock with the other.
She was embarrassed by her fascination as she watched him cover his length. He was so hard. So temptingly real.
“Want me to go slower to prolong the show?”
Bastard. “I could watch you do that all day.” She met his gaze, smirked. “But then you’d never get what you want.”
His eyes softened as he leaned down to hover over her, hip to hip, chest to chest. “I already have what I want.”
She quirked a brow and jolted her pelvis. “So there’s no need to go any further?”
“There’s no necessity.” He ground his erection into her, the head of his cock finding her entrance. “But there’s definitely need.”
She scratched her nails along his back and wove her legs around his waist. “I think there’s a necessity to stop talking.”
He brought his nose to hers, his smiling lips an inch away. “I’ll never speak again.”
The lush stroke of his mouth brushed over hers as his hips nudged into her. His cock breached her pussy, the penetration sinking further while his tongue coaxed a deeper kiss. He didn’t break his promise when he pulled back. He didn’t speak. But his eyes whispered compliments, the endearments making her moan.
He held her captive, surveying her as their rhythm increased. The grind of his pelvis became harder, his fingers clutching the bed coverings beside her head. The tendons in his neck tightened, his body glistened with a sheen of sweat. She leaned up to nip his shoulder, to lick and suck his salted flesh. Everything she did gained a response—a hiss, a growl, a harder thrust of his hips.
She clenched down on him and wove an arm around his, her nails digging into his bicep to hold on. The necessity to slow ate at her. She didn’t want this to end, but she couldn’t stop. Every grind against her clit piercing increased the insanity. Each peppered kiss along her skin stoked the need to come.
When his beard grazed the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder joined, she lost hope. Her pussy fluttered. Spasmed. Her eyes clamped shut as she called out, the sound deafening. Then he was there with her, her name moaned over and over.
The friction built with his harsh thrusts, her receding orgasm coming back with vengeance. “Shit.” She came again, her legs so tight around his waist she thought he might break. She was still coming when she opened her eyes and found love staring back at her.
The shocking image dissolved her pleasure, the seriousness dragging her into the real world where fantasies didn’t exist. She’d never seen that look before. Not from any man. And not through all the years she’d seen him with his wife.
The affection he had for her was hers alone. A tangible emotion she would adorn like a treasured piece of jewelry. “How long have you imagined this?”
“All my life,” he murmured, placing a kiss against her sternum.
She closed her eyes with a smile, allowing a few seconds of shameless bliss before she looked at him again. “Ryan, I’m serious.” She tugged on the loose strands of his hair, demanding focus. “How long have you wanted to be with me?”
He kissed her shoulder, her neck, the delicious spot below her ear and whispered, “Forever.”
Chapter Fourteen
Leah had never woken up happy. She’d previously roused from slumber feeling content, occasionally even energized. But never happy, with tingles in her belly and a heavy throb beneath her ribs. Not until today.
Ryan’s arm was wrapped around her waist, his chest spooned against her back.
“Morning, gorgeous.”
“Gorgeous?” She turned in his arms, fixing him with a raised brow.
“Yeah, sweetie or pumpkin don’t suit.” His eyes were dreamy, this morning a shade greener than blue. “And although ball-buster was a great fit, I was looking for something more personal instead of a name the band, crew, and anyone in general would be likely to call you.”
“That’s sweet, Ryan. Really sweet.” She shot him a playful glower and then nuzzled into his chest, wrapping her arms around the huge expanse of muscle. They’d stayed awake for hours, the darkness ticking away as they made up for lost time. “I never want to leave this room.”
He ran his fingers through her tangled hair, letting his touch travel down her back with each swipe. Goosebumps awakened under his fingertips, his affection branding her skin like an iron.
“Still think this is temporary?” His lips were against her temple.
“I don’t want it to be.” The vulnerability was hard to admit. Painful, even.
“So how do we make this work? Do we come clean or keep it quiet?”
A breath of derisive laughter escaped her lips. They didn’t even have that measly choice. “At the moment, there’s no option but to keep quiet. We’ve got Felicity and Grander to think about. If this gets out, it’ll jeopardize the publicity campaign for Slicker and inevitably extend our tour. Then there’s your divorce—”
“Forget the divorce. I won’t let Julie affect this in any way.”
“There’s also my boss. He can’t find out. Not until I come up with some sort of leverage.”
“What type of leverage are we looking for?”
She nuzzled further against his chest, wishing his heat and protection would work outside these four walls. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it off and on for years and nothing seems likely to placate.”
“Talk me through it. What’s the biggest hurdle?”
Her happiness was starting to vanish, the bliss of the night before being eaten away by reality. “Everything is a hurdle, and it all starts with my contract.” She leaned one elbow on the mattress and faced him. “I’m paraphrasing, but the document says something like—any physical relationship with a client—casual or otherwise—will result in immediate dismissal.”
“Contracts can be renegotiated. You know that.”
“I do.” She nodded, her lips unable to resist the temptation to kiss his pec. “But my boss won’t renegotiate. Not without something in return.”
“Like money?”
She fought to hide a wince. Putting a price on a newborn relationship wasn’t something she was willing to do. Not only was she protective of her savings, but she was also aware of the heavy weight it would put on both their shoulders. “I wouldn’t suggest it.”
“I’d be happy to pay.”
This time there was no way to hide the wince. It was there for him to see. “No.” It wasn’t like she didn’t have the means to pay either. With no notable family, friends, or expenses outside of Reckless, her bank balance was exceptionally healthy. It was the idea in general, the Pretty Woman narrative that didn’t sit well. “I’ll think of something else.”
“We’ll do it together. You’re not on your own.” He finger-combed the hair back from her cheeks, his gaze lowering
to her neck, his eyes widening. “Christ.”
“What?” She sat up straight, her body on display as she tried to see what he was looking at.
“You’ve got a family of hickies along your neck and shoulders.”
“What type of family? Conservative middle-class or devout Mormon?”
He cringed and delicately brushed her hair back to assess the damage. “Not funny,” he murmured. “It looks like I attacked you.”
“I’ll wear something to cover it.” She collapsed against him, her fingers trailing along the scratch marks and moon like symbols from her previously embedded nails. “You didn’t get away unscathed either.”
“I have battle scars?” His tone spoke of pride. “You can hide yours, but I’ll make sure to wear something that shows mine off.”
Her smile was a mere flash before her thoughts kicked in.
“What did I say?”
“Nothing.” She sat up, gripping the sheet at her chest, and reached for her nightie. “I need coffee.” She pulled the material over her head and flung back the covers. “Do you want some?”
“Sure. After I get a truthful answer.”
She pushed from the bed, considering her response. It was jealousy, tainted with heartache and sprinkled with animosity. None of which he needed to hear.
“Leah?”
She heard the rustle of the bed, then the clink of his belt and the zip of his pants.
“I don’t want to use threats to get you to talk.”
“Threats?” She whirled around, getting caught up in his grin.
“I’ll tell the guys you’re a squealer.” His grin turned to an unabashed smirk. “I’ll tell them everything. Every dirty little detail.”
She raised his smirk and countered with a sexy saunter toward him, stopping toe to toe. “You wouldn’t dare. You’re too much of a gentleman.”
He shrugged, the confident response making her pussy clench. “Wouldn’t I? Pretty soon the world is going to think I turn women to the dark side. Bragging about your orgasm tally will help to keep some balls in my court. And I’m sure Mason would appreciate finding out I was undoubtedly the biggest pain in your ass last night.”
