Riley smiles, and we lean in, kissing tenderly. I pull back just enough to laugh quietly, tapping her phone. “Now post this,” I urge her. “Tell the world I love you and you love me, because I want to take you home and make love with you so much that I can barely wait. And I’m not fucking you in the park, no matter how much you beg.”
Riley’s eyes flare at the jump from sweet and lovely to sexy and dirty, but she clicks around on her phone quickly. “Done.”
“Not even close, Sunshine,” I tell her, standing up and pulling her up with me. I grab her duffel bag, half expecting her to be checking the response to the post when I turn around, but her eyes are on me.
Going public is a big deal for Riley Sunshine and Moonlight Mark, but for us . . . we just want to go home. Now.
* * *
I hate that we have to take our separate cars to my place, but we get there at the same time, and I waste zero time pushing Riley through the door. “I got champagne to celebrate. Want it now or later?” The question is punctuated with kisses along her jaw and down her neck.
Riley’s smile is pure seduction. “Now.”
“Are we still talking about the champagne?” I murmur against her skin.
She giggles, pushing at me gently. I growl at the idea of stopping but leave her to grab the bottle from the fridge.
“Just bring the bottle,” she says from behind me. “We don’t need glasses.”
Fuck, yes. I want to see Riley with her lips wrapped around the green bottle, chugging champagne like a wild woman. Something about her being so unrestrained is sexy as hell.
I set the champagne on the counter and pop the top. I lift the bottle and toast her. “To Riley Watson, my sunshine.”
I take a drink of the champagne and pull her close, kissing her deeply and letting the bubbly alcohol flow into her mouth. Riley startles at first, and some escapes to dribble down our chins, but then she moans and her tongue tangles with mine as we share the drink back and forth, swallowing when we pull back.
“Is that how you plan on drinking the whole bottle?” Riley’s grinning, swiping at her mouth.
I shake my head, catching her hand in mind to suck the sweet drink from her fingertips. “Nope . . . I plan on licking at least a third of this off your body. I wonder if the bubbles will tickle?”
“One way to find out,” Riley answers, taking me by the hand and leading me into the living room.
She pulls at my shirt, and just as eagerly, I help her with the buttons. Within moments, I’m shirtless and she’s stripped to her socks and boots, which take too damn long right this moment.
“Sit back and tell me if this tickles,” she orders, picking up the bottle from the table to take a long swig.
Riley gets on her knees and, before I know it, has me in her mouth. The sensation of her talented lips and tongue working over my cock while the effervescent champagne tingles on my skin is like nothing I could ever anticipate. I groan, my hands grabbing a double handful of Riley’s hair. “Mmm . . . that’s it,” I encourage her as she bobs up and down on my stiff shaft. “Fuck, I love your mouth. I love all of you.”
She hums, and as she cups my balls and takes more of me into her mouth, her tongue works the underside of my shaft, teasing me from root to tip as her lips keep a champagne-tight seal around me. She’s not going to waste a drop of this.
I push her down further, not hard but enough to let her feel my control and my hand in her hair as I start thrusting up into her pink-lipped mouth. She looks up, her eyes burning with desire, silently asking for more. I pull her hair slightly and thrust myself all the way into her mouth until I can feel her throat muscles gripping and working the head of my shaft as she swallows the champagne.
“Fuck, baby . . . you ready now? Do you want it in your mouth?” I growl as I feel myself swelling, approaching my limit. Riley blinks, trying to nod but unable to do much more than muffle her assent, and I pull back just in time to explode onto her eager tongue. Riley moans deeply, and I realize she’s been finger-fucking herself, her hand half buried in her dripping pussy. She’s not coming, not yet . . . but the sight has another spasm racing down my spine and through my cock.
Finally, she’s drained the last drop from me and pulls off, swallowing and grinning foolishly.
“My turn,” I reply, climbing off the couch and pushing her to the leather surface. “Lie back,” I order, getting on top of her. I lower my lips to hers, tasting the sexy mix she just sucked down before kissing over her neck, licking her skin, and pinning her to the sofa.
“Noah, I need to come,” she whimpers. “I’m already so close.” I chuckle evilly, letting the sound vibrate on her skin, but not where she wants it. “Noah?”
“You come . . . when I say,” I tell her evenly, looking into her eyes, and she nods desperately.
I drizzle a narrow stream of champagne onto her breasts before licking it up, flicking my tongue over each nipple until her back arches with pleasure. I can feel her squirming, trying to grind her pussy against me, but I tease her, keeping my thigh just far enough away that I’m in total control.
“Mmm . . . you’re torturing me,” Riley groans as I lick lower. I pour a generous amount of the champagne onto Riley’s stomach, making her laugh as I lick the fluid out of her ticklish bellybutton.
“You know you love it,” I tell her, pouring the champagne over her pussy. The cool alcohol makes her gasp, but at the same time, she squirms. “Do the bubbles feel good on your sensitive skin? Can you feel them teasing over your clit and lips along with my hot breath?” She wiggles, and I pin her hips down, not letting her fight the overwhelming sensations. “Now I want my taste.”
Riley’s breath hitches as I cover her pussy with my lips, sucking the heady mix that has my cock hardening again. Riley always tastes delicious, but the lightness of the champagne makes her sweeter, and as I lick her deeply, she moans loudly, encouraging my eager exploration.
“Nobody’s . . . ever made me feel the way you do,” Riley pants out as I flick my tongue over her clit.
“Not just tonight,” I promise her. “I’m going to make you feel like this forever.” It’s an honest vow, not just sex talk.
“Fuck,” Riley answers. And that’s how I know my good girl is close. Filthy words start to fall from her naughty lips when she’s past the point of no return. I slide two fingers into her, and guided by the clenches of her inner muscles and her cries, I feast on her, licking and sucking until she’s thrashing her head from side to side, unable to think of anything but the feelings I’m giving her. She’s fully in my control, totally trusting me.
Riley’s eyes fly open, and she bucks once, hard, before her stomach clenches and she lets out a guttural cry, coming on my tongue and fingers. I nibble at her, keeping my tongue on her clit until she sags back, her hand coming to the back of my hair to yank me off her.
I pull my fingers out, sucking them clean and then kissing my way slowly up her body to capture her mouth again. “Fuck, you’re beautiful when you come for me,” I tell her, cradling her in my arms. “Always gorgeous, but that moment is mine. Ours.”
“My body wants more . . . but I’m sensitive, can’t take another stroke of your tongue,” Riley says as an aftershock shudders through her body, agreeing. “You’re so intense.”
“You inspire me,” I murmur.
“Got any more tricks up your sleeve? Metaphorically speaking,” she asks, running her hands over my bare chest.
I think, and my mind, that devious, delicious pile of jelly between my ears, gets an idea. Picking her up in my arms, I stand up and grab the mostly empty bottle of champagne.
Riley looks down the hallway toward my bedroom, but I head toward the double doors that lead out to my small balcony.
“What are you doing?” Riley asks, her eyes wide in horror. I grin, noting that public sex isn’t her thing. Luckily, it’s not mine, either. I don’t want to share her.
“Turn around,” I tell her, setting her down. She sees my treadmi
ll, and her eyes narrow in confusion. I cup her chin, looking into those angelic blue eyes. “Trust me. Put your feet on those side ridges.”
“Then what?” she asks, already pressing her ass back to present herself to me. My sweet, good, and sometimes naughty girl.
I shove my champagne-stained pants and shoes the rest of the way off, and once nude, I mount the belt behind her. I take a drink of the champagne, offer her one, which she takes gratefully, and then set the bottle in the cup holder.
Taking her hips in hand, I slide my hard cock deep into her and start the belt nice and slow. With the side supports of the treadmill and her boots still on, she’s just the right height for me to fill her up without having to bend my knees too much.
“Now you control the speed.”
The whole city lays out before us through the windows of the double door. Even with the light pollution, we can see the stars and the city lights twinkling. It looks magical.
What’s more magical is the feeling of her body, of her pussy gripping me as my hips move naturally from walking. She finds a new pace, a bit faster, where I’m jogging slightly. With every bouncing step, an answering ripple rushes through our bodies. The seesawing motion of my own running takes care of the rest, my cock sliding in and out of Riley’s welcoming body as she holds onto the handles and pushes back against me as best she can.
“This is crazy,” she moans.
“You make me crazy,” I answer. Though I’m breathless from the exertion and how good she feels, I pant out, “I’m just glad I jog every morning. I’m going to think of you like this every time now.”
Riley moves, and I slip out of her, but it’s only so she can adjust. She swings each leg up and over the handrails so that she’s hanging in the air, the bars beneath her knees and her chest pressed to the screen in front of her. “Like this,” she tells me.
I slam back into her, now able to use my hands to bounce her down onto me as I thrust up with every step. We find a rhythm, her rocking and me running, fighting off the orgasm as long as we can still breathe because it feels so good.
Riley clenches around me and orders, “Faster, please . . . Noah, fast and hard.” She pushes the button beneath her, speeding up the treadmill, and I have to sprint, holding onto her and our bodies jolting hard with every step until I can’t take it anymore. With a last jump, I plant my feet on each side of the belt and thrust as hard as I can, grunting loudly as my orgasm takes over and I explode deep inside Riley.
Riley whimpers, unable to make words as she comes one more time at the feeling of me filling her up.
We hold still, the belt whirring beneath us, until with a trembling hand, Riley hits the Stop button on my treadmill. We try to step off, but both of us are too spent, and we collapse in an exhausted heap on the unmoving belt, our bodies tangled in one another.
Sometime later—maybe a minute, maybe ten—I feel like I can move again. “Come on,” I urge her. “I’ve got a warm shower and a bed with our names on them.”
Riley smiles dreamily and nods. “Sounds perfect.”
Together, we make our way to the bathroom where we stand under the warm spray, letting it do the trick to wash away the champagne residue. And then, dry and naked, we stumble to the bedroom where I pull back the comforter and blanket before curling up with Riley, who lays her head half on my shoulder, half on the pillow as she looks at me.
“That was amazing,” she sighs.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I tease, and she swats at my chest playfully. “I was a bit worried about the treadmill, but I think it worked out.”
I feel Riley’s cheek lift as she smiles at my silliness, and I squeeze her tightly, enjoying that I can make her smile. I’m still not used to being that for someone, but I’m damn glad I am for her. “I love you, Sunshine,” I whisper into her hair.
“I love you, Moonlight,” she whispers back.
“I think we just made a thing. Is that a thing?” I ask.
Riley wiggles happily, and the warmth of our bodies beneath the blankets makes everything feel more intimate. It feels . . . right.
We feel right.
I want this life with Riley—her in my arms each night, Raffy waking me up with his cold nose every morning, and every moment in between.
As we drift off to sleep, neither of us even thinks about the other big thing that happened tonight. The post on Riley Sunshine’s page. It seems secondary to everything else—to our saying, ‘I love you.’
Chapter 21
Riley
I almost hate to do it, but I have to. I hit submit on the post, knowing that the influx of fresh images is going to push the ones of Noah and me down my page.
I’ve been reading the comments on our reveal post all morning, and I’d say they’re at least ninety percent positive. So many people are happy for me, intrigued by ‘Midnight Mark’, and already wondering when they’ll hear wedding bells. Like . . .
JuniorMintzzz930- Please tell me that he’s got a twin brother, or maybe even 2?
Like I told Noah, the negative comments don’t hit me the way they once did. I can understand people being upset or jealous. I’ve been there myself, watching friends like Becky and Simon fall in love, get married, and start a family while I focused on work. I didn’t begrudge them their happiness. I supported it whole-heartedly, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t a tiny thought of ‘Why not me?’ Of course, no one considers that Riley Sunshine might’ve been lonely. Honestly, not even me.
But I’m not lonely now, that’s for sure. And I’m proud of the pictures of Noah and me. Even if they’re moving further down my feed after this morning’s auto-post of daily inspiration and the photo album from my collaboration with India.
The photos she took at Big Mike’s are amazing. Truly, the best images I’ve ever had taken. I look fresh, fun, and sunny, with a little dash of sexy in them. I’ve never seen myself the way India saw me, which is probably half of what makes her such a stellar photographer.
I send a link to Mike so he can see his diner in all its glory, and if he wants to, follow the comments. I tagged the restaurant in the post too, so hopefully, it’ll help boost his business. Not that he needs it, judging by the line of people who were waiting to get in by the time India and I left, but publicity is always good.
I pull a few images that are close-ups of my face, highlighting the cat-eye eyeliner and ruby red lipstick I’d gone with for the shoot, and send them to my contact at Joroast. They’re tagged in the album too, but I want to make sure they see what their investment in me is netting them.
And though we’ve talked back and forth a few times since the shoot to go over the photos, I send India another email to thank her for the amazing experience and beautiful work.
All told, this single post has hours and hours of work involved in it before I hit the submission button, and I’m not even the photographer. I know India also has hours of editing work in the photos. Our work might be different, but nothing online is spontaneously recorded and posted anymore. There’s so much that goes into it behind the scenes, even when it looks quick and easy.
I spin in my chair, stretching my arms overhead and wiggling them in the air to get some of the tension out. I have a video conference in thirty minutes, and I’ve been hunched over my computer since eight AM.
Raffy barks, and I eye the clock, deciding I have time to run him downstairs for a potty break before my call.
“Come on, boy. But you’ll have to be fast. No sniffing the whole block when we both know exactly where you’re going to pee, ’kay?”
Raffy sticks his nose in the air and twitches his mustache as he struts to the door. I choose to take that as his agreement to my negotiation.
Outside, I’m standing by Raffy’s tree, my back turned so he’ll do his business, when I hear my name.
“Riley! Oh, my gosh! Hey, girl,” a female voice calls.
I turn toward the voice but don’t see anyone I know. But there’s a young woman waving at me wildly.
Her black hair is in matching long braids, her dark eyes rimmed in black liner, and her smile is glistening with gloss. I look to her outfit for a clue, but it’s some type of uniform, white pants and a white polo shirt. I have no idea who she is.
“Hi,” I say hesitantly. “Sorry, do I know you?”
She laughs and shakes her head as though I said something funny. “No, I guess I just feel like I know you. I follow you online.”
“Oh! Well . . . hi!” I give her one of my Sunshine Salutes, my fingers wiggling below my chin as I smile warmly. “What’s your name?”
“Myra,” she answers, saluting me back.
I grin. I guess I never thought about other people doing the silly move that always makes me smile. I wonder if they do it back to their screens when I wave in videos?
“Nice to meet you, Myra. Are you having a good day?”
“I am now,” she jokes, looking a little starstruck. Going serious on me, she adds, “Really, though, it’s been tough lately, and when I saw you, I felt like it was a sign. The universe is giving me a chance to tell you how much you mean to me.” Her tone is earnest, her eyes sincere, and I can’t help but feel for her. She’s smiling through pain, that much is clear to see. “Yeah, my guy ghosted, left me with a baby and the bills. And I didn’t have a job.”
“Oh, my gosh, Myra! I’m so sorry!” I hold my hands over my heart as it breaks for her.
“It’s okay. I almost tracked that no-good man down and made him sorry he ever met me. But I’m a good woman.” She looks to the sky like she’s apologizing for even having the mean thought. “So I took your advice instead. Even in our darkest days, we can find joy, grow happiness, and share sunshine,” she quotes me. “And it worked!” Her smile is wide and bright, no trace of the difficulties she’s been through.
“What happened?” I ask. If I were sitting down, I’d be on the edge of my seat. Since I’m standing on the sidewalk, I’m dancing from foot to foot in excitement, much like Raffy, who’s ready to go inside and get a treat now that he’s done with his potty business.
The Blind Date Page 26
