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“Get on your hands and knees.”
“Fuck you.” My voice shook with need, betraying me.
He chuckled while running a finger along my calf. “You want to come, baby?”
“Fuck you,” I repeated, but my body begged him to finish the job. I was already complying with the asshole.
Once I was on my hands and knees, he returned his mouth to my entrance. Spreading my ass cheeks apart, he devoured me with his tongue.
Oh damn.
I let out an undignified moan of pleasure as his tongue worked me.
“This is mine,” he whispered before sucking my folds into his mouth again.
I pushed back toward him, reminding him that I needed to come.
“Let me ride you,” I asked through shallow breaths.
“No.”
“Fuck you, let me ride you,” I begged as he moved his tongue north, lapping at me in the most sensual way. I tried again. “Let me come on your cock.”
He flipped me over, spread my legs, and pulled me closer.
“Beg me.” A dark smile lit up his face, one I wasn’t familiar with.
“No.”
We went to war; his gaze seared me, told me he knew he’d win—but mine said,Not a chance.
“I can come on my fingers just as easily as I can on your cock.” I smiled sweetly at him.
Was that a wheeze leaving his chest?
He sat back, and I advanced, straddling his lap and sinking down onto his hard length.
“Yes…” I let my head fall back as I adjusted to his size.
“Fucking look at that,” Ryan mused, his chin tucked to his chest, his gaze locked where we connected.
I rode him slow and steady, until his hands came to my hips, rolling them against his length in more even strokes.
“I’m yours, Ryan. My body, my heart, my soul if you want it,” I whispered.
His face was set in hard lines, his expression like a piece of glass: previously shattered, now put back together in the grimmest of colors. I wanted to see brilliance in those muted shadows, not heartache. I wanted to fulfill him, complete him, and make him whole.
I pushed down harder as he pulled just as firmly. We were trying to tear one another apart, and whatever was left in the end would be the remnants we’d use to move forward.
“Mine,” he panted.
A muscle jumped where my hand pressed. Right as I slid my thumb into his mouth, our orgasms detonated, me throwing my head back, moaning his name and a thousand curses, him roaring my name into my skin while he leaned up, clutching me to him as tightly as he could. Our breathing slowed as our chests heaved and Ryan lay back, pulling me into his chest, holding me tighter than he’d ever held me before.
* * *
Hours later,we were wrapped around one another. Ryan’s finger traced down my bare arm as I watched shadows dance along the ceiling. The severity of what had happened between us settled in. He’d used me, treated me like one of his seasonal women, and instead of demanding more from him, from myself, I had sunk into it and drowned us both.
“I’m sorry,” Ryan whispered behind me, as if he was responding to my silent reflection.
