AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Together we glide our fingers through my slickness. He sucks a sharp breath through his nose.
Groaning again, he throws off the cover and uses the bulk of his body to roll me onto my back. Neither of us says a thing as he hikes my leg over his shoulder and enters me on a gentle, deep thrust.
My breath catches at the feeling of fullness. He begins to move. Our eyes catch as we instantly find a steady, controlled rhythm.
We go slowly. This angle feels sharp at times, especially when he hits me at the top of his thrusts. But I like it. I like the edge of pain. How his root falls just short of brushing my clit.
I reach between us and play with myself. He looks down to watch and sputters, hips jerking. His control is slipping.
Good.
I roll my fingertips over my clit. I feel my pussy flutter around him as my orgasm approaches. He must feel it too, because he ducks his head and sucks my nipple into his mouth.
I gasp.
He moves to the other nipple, nipping at it with his teeth.
It sends me over the edge. I close my eyes and come with a soft moan. Everything about this orgasm is soft—how it comes, how it recedes. The feeling it gives me in my chest and between my legs.
Riley growls, the sound rumbling in the barrel of his chest. He pumps himself into me and comes too. I feel him emptying himself inside me, thrusting again and again until he lets out a long, low breath and rests his weight on top of me.
Makes me feel breathless, his body pinning me down this way. I’m at his mercy, filled with him in every sense of the word.
I open my eyes to see him hovering above me. His eyes are open and wide awake. My head trapped between his massive forearms.
Taking in my face, his full lips quirk into a smirky grin-smile thing that’s so hot and so genuinely joyful it fills me with that feeling too.
I’m going to burst. My chest brims with things I’m not ready to name, things I’m not sure I should be feeling at all.
Help. I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.
I forgot how much of a cheeseball I am when I’m with Riley.
A mushy, sentimental cheeseball. One he doesn’t seem to mind hanging out with one bit.
He kisses my mouth. I grab onto his forearms, like that might keep me from falling.
“Morning.” His voice, gravelly with sleep, invades my skin and makes goosebumps break out along my legs and arms. “Sleep okay?”
I nod. “You?”
“I did, yeah.” He rocks his hips, pulling out of me the tiniest bit. I feel his cum leaking out between us. “Fuck, I love makin’ messes with you.”
“I’ll strip the bed—”
“Nu-huh.” He leans in to draw his mouth over my neck. “You stay right here. You drink coffee?”
I bite my lip. There’s that brimming sensation again. Like my body can’t possibly contain the enormity of how much I like this guy. “I do, yeah.”
“I’ll make us a pot.”
“I’ll make eggs, then.”
He smiles. “Not gonna lie, I like the sound of that.”
Riley gets out of bed first and pads to the bathroom. I throw on one of his shirts—a broken-in Bald Head Island tee I find neatly folded in a drawer—and a pair of clean underwear I packed. Then I take a few to freshen up when Riley’s done in the bathroom.
I hear Tom before I see him. He greets me with a furry, slobbery kiss right to the mouth. Laughing, I smooth the hair out of his eyes. “Good morning to you too, Mr. Cruise.”
The velvety smell of freshly brewed coffee hits me when Tom and I walk into Dolly’s kitchen. Riley’s standing at the counter in a pair of shorts. No shirt. His hair sticking up every which way as he fills a pair of mugs with steaming hot coffee. The muscles in his back bunch and release when he glances over his shoulder at me.
His expression contracts. “Aw, Legs, I like you in my shirt. That, you’re allowed to wear.”
“Good. I remember what happened last time I was in your kitchen naked, and my body needs a break.”
His brows snap together. “You sore? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It’s a good sore. I’ll be fine, nothing a little rest can’t fix.”
“You’ll tell me if it’s ever too much?”
“Of course.” I nod at the coffee pot in his hand. “Smells delicious.”
“You take cream and sugar?”
I grab onto the edge of a nearby table. The motherfucker looks good enough to eat. Happy and at ease.
He is making me coffee.
“Both.”
He grins. “Me too.”
He stirs a good splash of cream and one heaping teaspoon of sugar into each of our coffees, the spoon clanking pleasantly against the mugs. Then he sets down the spoon on a napkin and turns to me, holding out a mug.
