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Ryan…
I don’t even know what else to say. I can’t believe he’s texting me this right now. My phone buzzes in my hand again, and I look down, my face hot. He’s not done with this yet.
My thick fingers work in and out of your hot channel. And when I have you on the edge, I stop. Your eyes search mine with a disbelief that’d I’d dare stop what I was doing. But it’s my cock I want you coming around, not my fingers. Spreading you even wider, I thrust into you in one swift motion. Over and over, I pound into you, hitting that spot no man but me can even reach inside of you. Your inner walls squeeze me like a vice. So tight, so hot.
Jesus, he’s trying to kill me.
I take you to your breaking point, but then slow down, and drag it out. I keep doing it. I torture you, tease you, make you beg for me to stop – make you beg for me to just give you what you want. And when you do, that’s when I give you everything. With one final thrust, I grind into your clit and take your nipple deep into my mouth, pinching the other one as hard as I can. You milk my cock for everything it has to give you, and I fill you so completely, it spills out.
Holy fucking shit. I think I’m going to combust just from reading this. My clit is throbbing, and when I rub my thighs together, I can feel how slick I am.
I need him. Right fucking now.
When you’re with me, you’re mine, Ashley.
His.
I’m his?
I like the idea of that way too much. I’m in this too deep. I have to go home in a few days, and if I start thinking of Ryan as mine, and being his, then that’s going to make leaving more painful than it’ll probably already be.
All Ryan did was rescue me from potential starvation and hypothermia, and then brought me to his house to stay with him until the storm passes.
But what about after? Am I supposed to pack up and leave? Go back to Dottie’s? Go home?
I didn’t think this through at all. I can’t get my hopes up. I can’t start believing that this little arrangement we have going is a real thing.
Glancing back down at my phone, though, my thoughts dissolve as I read his messages again.
I’m fucking fucked.
This man is going to break my heart. I know he is.
But if that’s the case, then I might as well enjoy the ride, right? Just like Keats, I’ll take the few days of bliss.
Biting my lip, I don’t even think about what I want to say, I just start typing. Apparently, I’ll be going down with the sinking ship that is my sanity.
What if I told you I was breaking your rule right now, sheriff? What if I told you that it’s your fault? I’m flushed, flustered, and so desperately wishing you were here right now to see what your messages are doing to me.
He answers immediately.What did they do to you, sweetheart? Are you slick between your thighs, and ready for me to just slide right in?
A little moan escapes my lips as I rub my legs together, trying to hold off.
Yes.
Are you touching yourself yet?
No.
Do it. Take your leggings off right now.
I don’t even care how he can guess what I’m wearing right now, I just hook my thumbs in the waistband of my leggings and peel them down my legs.
Okay…
Now, spread your sexy legs wide, and run a finger down your wet folds – feeling what I do to you.
Sighing, I sit up straighter, and throw one leg over the back of the couch, doing exactly as he says–a shudder rocking through my body at the first touch.
