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His kiss becomes firmer, his hands tighter around mine. I can feel every single pulse on his shaft as he slips deeper. My back bows when he thrusts that final bit, my face falling into his neck as I cry out.
And he stills, allowing us both to settle into the feeling. ‘Are you okay?’ he asks quietly, and I nod, unable to speak through my pleasure. Pulling away so I lose my hiding place in his neck, he looks down at my sweaty cheeks. His stubble is glistening, his top lip wet. He’s a vision, his wet hair dark and messy. God, he’s so handsome, ruggedly so.
Slowly, he withdraws, sliding free, and then he carefully and precisely rocks back in. His breathing is instantly ragged, his eyelids heavy. ‘Amazing, right?’
Oh my goodness, yes, completely. But I want to feel him, so I flex my hands, and he releases, allowing me to bring them to his shoulders. ‘Kiss me and it’ll be even better.’ I fist his hair and tug him down to my mouth, and my pleasure goes off the charts. I’m teetering back on the edge of lost control, my movements becoming a little crazed again, though hampered by his body on me.
I throw my legs up, circling his back tightly. His momentum doesn’t falter, his drives smooth and exact, each plunge better than the last. My blood starts to burn, my hearing starts to buzz, and the pressure in my lower belly builds and builds. My swallow is lumpy, a ball of emotion lodging in my throat. I’m overwhelmed. Amazed by how incredible this feels. How wonderful he is.
He’s watching me with fascination as he drives me wild with his measured lovemaking. Then his fists sink into the mattress and he pushes his torso up, never once faltering in his pace. Now he’s splitting his attention between my breasts and my face, and the sweat is beginning to pour from his brow as he rolls his hips carefully. He has more leverage, more room to send me even crazier, and he does, the expression on his face cut with pleasure.
I throw my arms back and grab the wooden headboard as I watch him, his face twisting, and he falls to a forearm, taking his spare hand to one of my breasts and covering it, massaging. I brace myself for the feel of his mouth there, seeing the intention in his eyes as he dips slowly and latches onto my nipple, sucking firmly on a moan of bliss. I close my eyes and I’m gone, a slave to Ryan, his mouth, and his hips thrusting at a mind-bending pace.
The pressure continues to build until I’m panting to keep myself from exploding. He must sense my waning control, because he moves back to my face and cages me in again, nudging my cheek with his nose in silent demand. I open my eyes, and the vision of him pushes me past the point of return. My muscles lock, claiming the pleasure, and I get sucked into a vortex of peace as I’m captured by my orgasm.
Ryan never takes his gaze away, and though desperate to close my eyes, I don’t. I do, however, have to brace my arms into his shoulders to deal with the onslaught of pleasure, going to unthinkable heights.
He jerks on a grunt, and his drives become grinds that accompany a long, drawn-out moan, his jaw tight as he comes. And he blinks, appearing dazed, before he falls onto me on an exhausted puff of air, crowding me, still rolling those gorgeous hips, milking every last drop of pleasure from me.
I’m wiped out.
Yet bursting at the seams with a new kind of energy as we lie in a sweaty, breathless tangle.
In my daze, I notice that the storm has died. At least, it has outside. Inside me, it’s very much alive, and I’m worried it could be damaging. My dormant heartache has gone as if it was never there. Could Ryan be my cure? It’s a tempting thought – for so long I’ve had to be unrelentingly strong – but it’s also dangerous. This distraction, as lovely as it is, could make me weak again.
I wrap my arms around Ryan’s broad back, my nose buried in his clammy shoulder. He smells as good as he looks and tastes. Manly and tough. I inhale through my nose and let out the breath on a broken sigh, storing every second of the last half hour to memory. I wait for regret to creep up on me as our breathing gradually evens out. It’s peaceful, but that storm inside rages on.
Eventually, Ryan finds the energy to peel himself away from me, shuffling down the bed and laying his arms across my stomach, his chin resting on top. He looks up at me with that crooked smile, and I find myself reaching down and drawing a line across the scar at the corner. ‘How did you get this?’ I ask.
