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I knew it.
And I walked toward it without even the slightest bit of hesitation.
I stepped between his spread legs and his hands landed over the fluffy material covering the sides of my thighs and drifted upward... then inward. They snagged the sash and as his eyes drifted up to find mine, his fingers pulled and the material split down the center.
My breath exhaled slowly and his hands whispered to the center of my belly, putting his hands flat there and gently drifting upward between my breasts, over my chest. He moved slowly to stand as his hands slipped under the shoulders and pushed the heavy material down. It slid over my arms, off my fingertips, and pooled in a semicircle around me on the floor.
But Ryan's eyes didn't drift. He didn't look me over.
He watched my face.
He gauged my reaction.
He wanted to make sure we were going at my pace.
The move was up to me and I knew it.
My hands moved out, landing at his wrists and carefully sliding upward over the corded muscles of his forearms and biceps, resting on his strong shoulders for a moment as his eyelids got even heavier, then moving down over his pecs. My finger traced the outline of his coat of arms for a long moment before my hands flattened again and slid down the sides of his abs, watching in fascination as the muscles tensed beneath my touch. They settled on his hips, fingers snagged under the waistbands of his pants and what seemed to be boxer briefs as my gaze moved back up to his face.
Then, I guess seeing no uncertainty in my face, his hands moved down to my wrists and did the same slow exploration upward then down. Except when they drifted down from my shoulders, his palms closed over my breasts.
My breath whimpered out of me, my breasts swelling, my nipples hardening into tight points against him, and wet pooling between my thighs.
God, it had been so, so long.
His hands slid so his fingertips were at my sides and his thumbs moved circles around my nipples for a long minute before trapping them between his thumbs and forefingers and rolling them with a firm, almost painful pressure.
My sex tightened hard and my hands pulled at the material keeping the rest of his body from me. The slacks and boxer briefs fell and he stepped out of them. His hands released my breasts and went around to my back, sliding down until he was cupping my bottom, then hauling my whole front to his as his lips crashed down on mine.
His cock pressed against my belly, promising things, not the least among them- complete fulfillment, stretching me like I had never been before.
His tongue moved inside to claim mine as one of his hands slid down my thigh to snag my knee, hauling it up and placing it next to his hip, allowing his cock to slide between my folds and stroke upward to press into my clit. I moaned against his lips and he pulled back, eyes watching me, then stroked himself against me again.
Then he was switching our positions so I was the one with their legs against the bed and he pushed me downward onto it, pressing into my shoulders until I was across it longways. He went down on his knees in front of me, grabbing my knees and pressing them open wide against the mattress.
I felt his scruff first, scratching up my inner thigh. Then his lips as they pressed soft kisses up the sensitive skin. There was the barest of pauses when his lips met the crease of my thigh before his mouth closed over my clit and sucked hard. I cried out, my hand slamming against the back of his head, my hips arching up into the brilliant, almost blinding pleasure as his tongue started working me in tortuously slow circles. His hand stroked up my other thigh as he continued to devour me, moving low and pressing a finger inside me, thrusting lazily for a long minute before another finger joined and the pressure became too intense, too acutely similar to pain.
And I shattered.
His name cried out from between my lips as he kept licking, kept thrusting, dragging it out, milking it for all it was worth.
My hand lessened on his head and his mouth released me, but his fingers stayed inside me, still, but there. He kissed up the triangle above my sex, my belly, licked beneath each swell of my breasts, then closed his lips around my nipple and worked his tongue around it until, although it seemed impossible, it tightened further. He went across my chest to continue the torment as the desire built again, as my sex tightened again.
And that was exactly when his fingers started thrusting once more. But not slow and soft and sweet- fast, rough, primal.
