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He started at her navel, dipping his tongue inside her belly button and moving on up, teasing at her nipples. He sucked one, then the other, back and forth, making her gasp and start to squirm. He gripped both her breasts with those rough hands and shoved them together so that he could taste both at once. Sloane moaned. That was new. Not exactly innovative, and yet, no man had ever done it. She was amazed at one: how utterly lame her sex life had clearly been to this point, and two, how fantastic it felt. It was like cutting through red tape. Just suck them both at once.
“Remember when you got the senior superlative for Best Dressed?” Rick asked her.
As if she gave a shit about high school right now. “Yes,” she said, breathlessly, afraid if she didn’t play along he would stop doing what he was doing. “How do you even remember that? I forgot until you just mentioned it. I wasn’t even that fashionable. I was the very definition of Basic Bitch.”
He flicked his tongue over her nipples, his beard teasing at the tender flesh of her breasts. “I was stalking you in those days. In a non-creepy way.”
That made her laugh breathlessly. “Stalking is always creepy, Ryder. There is no non-creepy stalking. But anyway, what about my questionable and pointless in the grand scheme of things senior superlative?”
“I always thought you should get Most Beautiful.”
That kind of touched her. She’d known Dickie had liked her, but not to that extent.
“And Best Tits.”
And… he ruined it. But she wasn’t really annoyed. She’d known that too. He’d made a part-time job out of checking out her chest. She lightly smacked the backside of his head. “Grow up.”
He grinned at her over the peaks of her taut nipples. “Oh, I’m all grown up. Want to see?”
“Yes.” She had to admit, she was curious. She wanted to see this infamous cock that made the women of Beaver Bend weep in gratitude. Or something like that.
“But first, you.” Rick sat back and without any sort of warning, took down her jeans.
Sloane gasped. “Give a girl some notice.” He’d taken her panties down too, all in one very skilled motion.
“I did. I took you to bed.”
He had a point, but damn, she was very naked. “You’re overdressed, which is a cruel irony. You were mostly naked all night and now you’re sporting far too many clothes.”
“I like to keep you guessing.”
She thought he would take his pants off then but he was apparently serious because instead of shedding his jeans he bent over and kissed her clit. She gave a tiny gasp. Oh, damn. That felt like the world’s biggest tease.
“Open your legs for me, Sloane. Let me see you.”
“What? No.” She instinctively protested. She wasn’t even sure why other than it wasn’t necessary and she felt oddly self-conscious. Without meaning to, she pulled her legs together even tighter, trapping his head between her thighs. Oops. She didn’t mean to squeeze him like a melon. She eased up a little.
“Come on, you were a cheerleader. I know you know how to do the splits.”
“That’s what people do in porn. Not in real life.” She was sure of it. Like, pretty sure. Not really. At all. But seriously? No. In real life, people had vanilla sex. That was the whole reason for the jokes about marriage and relationships being the death of sex.
Except this was neither. So was she supposed to throw on a short skirt and wave her pom-poms around topless? Because that shit was never going to happen. Ever.
Rick gave a laugh that was muffled by her thighs. “I didn’t mean literally do the splits on my dick. It’s flirting, banter. But, if you want anything good to happen to you, your legs have to open at some point. I’m just saying. I can be creative as fuck if you want, but if you ease up on the death grip your thighs have on my head, you won’t regret it, I swear.”
She barely heard a word past “splits on my dick.” No one, in the history of life, could actually do that unless they were an aerial gymnast. “I haven’t done the splits in ten years.”
He shook her thighs a little with his hands. “Focus. No splits. It was me teasing you. Just relax, Sloane.”
“I can’t.” Damn it, she was blowing this. But she felt gangly and awkward and sexually lame. She and Tom had sex every other month or so and then it had been very straight forward, routine. In and out. Literally.
“Tell me what you like.”
“I don’t know.” She didn’t. “I mean, I like my vibrator.” She didn’t want it to sound like she liked nothing. “I know how that, you know, works.”
“How it gets you off?” Rick asked. “That’s good, beautiful. Really good. Do you finger something first, get yourself wet?”
She nodded, eyes widening at the look on his face. He looked very, very turned on. She relaxed her thighs a little, reassured.
