Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Hutch brushes the hair back from my face and lowers to me for a kiss. His lips are soft and gentle, and up close like this his woodsy scent is mixed with the lingering notes from the yummy dinner he cooked for me.
Hutch lifts me up, making me laugh, and walks us to my couch.
Should I insist we slow down, maybe end the night with a kiss on the doorstep instead of letting him have me however he wants me?
Maybe.
Also…no effing way.
Because there is nothing more intoxicating than being what Ryan Hutchins wants.
My living room is sparsely furnished. Just a loveseat and matching chair and a TV on a stand in the corner that mostly collects dust. Hutch lowers to the loveseat with me on his lap. He tugs on my thighs to get me closer, bringing where I’m starting to ache in contact with the steel rod in his pants.
I caress his face in the darkness as we kiss, our lips crashing together. He strokes up my spine, beneath my sweater and over the back of my bra, his touch tender and caring, like he wants to memorize me with his fingers. He skims down to my waist and brushes his thumbs up my belly. I rock to him, and flick my tongue with his, savoring his soft groan and his sensual caresses. His thumbs move up my ribs, his hands molding my sides. When his thumbs brush over my nipples, I’m so ready for it that I groan.
“I love touching you here,” he says, his fingers pinching and swirling with just enough pressure to make my breath catch in my throat. He breaks from my mouth and kisses down my neck, each kiss lingering on my skin like he knows it’s driving me crazy.
He lifts the hem of my sweater and kisses the place between my breasts while he scissors and caresses me over the satin. “But I love kissing you here even more.”
With a flick of his fingers, the front closure of my bra pops free. He groans, taking me into his mouth while he swirls and strokes with his fingers, wringing every drop of pleasure from me. I try to tug my sweater off but he slips the bra through each sleeve instead. “This stays on,” he says in that possessive purr that makes my hair follicles prickle.
So much for feminism.
I sigh my consent, combing slowly through his hair.
He hums in approval.
I tug at the back of his shirt and he helps me slip it off. He comes back to my mouth, giving me a moment to caress his smooth, strong shoulders and chest while we kiss and touch.
He presses against my lower back to bring me closer. The soft fabric of my sweater seems to heighten the sensations in my body as my breasts brush his chest. He rubs my nipples over the fabric, making the heat inside me explode. He slides lower, kissing me everywhere as he disappears between my knees. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he pops the button of my jeans and peels them down, carefully unweighting each of my thighs to slide them all the way off, leaving me in just my sweater and the black satin panties that match the bra he discarded so expertly.
I’m not sure what I expect, but it’s not for Hutch to peel my panties aside and press his mouth to where I’m throbbing. I grip the back of the couch as a tremor rattles through me.
What on earth is he doing?
Because of my sweater and the swell of my breasts, I can’t see him below me, but oh my god can I feel him. He grips my thighs to bring me closer, spreading my knees open. The tip of his tongue is like magic, touching me everywhere. He glides over my clit with little flutters from his thumb while he feasts. I hold onto the couch as my breaths come faster and a heat begins to burn low in my belly. He reaches up to my breasts, his fingers slick from touching me.
Oh, such wicked, intense pleasure.
It’s dirty, but so hot.
I rock against him, driven by the tight craving turning me inside out.
He groans, the vibrations humming through me. The need for friction and more, more, more has me grinding shamelessly against him. His caresses and groans make it that much more intense, like his pleasure is locked with mine. I close my eyes as the knot inside me unravels. Gripping the back of the couch, I cry out with each stroke of his tongue until I’m shaking. When he finally lets me rest, I lower my forehead to the fabric and savor the final notes of sweetness tumbling through me.
Hutch plants little kisses up my body then wraps me in his arms. I curl into him, grateful for his sturdy frame and his tenderness, while he strokes my lower back.
“That was incredible,” I say, limp in his arms.
He chuckles. “Best dessert on earth.”
I laugh into the crook of his neck. “Will you let me return the favor?”
He gives a low groan. “Sometime, yeah.”
“Not now?”
He lifts my chin so he can kiss me. The lingering taste of me on his tongue only seems to tighten my cravings all over again, and our kisses quickly turn heated. I rub my palm over his erection, and he sucks in a breath. “You ready for more, all you have to do is ask.”
“Is this a tricky way to get me to beg?”
“I won’t need tricks for that.”
I laugh and cradle his face so I can kiss him. “Such confidence.”
He kisses me back and glides his fingers down the sides of my panties that are soaked thanks to him, and in one motion, releases the fabric so it taps exactly where I’m starting to throb. I suck in a gasp of surprise but my body responds with an urgent yes .
His look darkens like he knows exactly what is racing through my mind.
“You ready to lose control, sweetheart?”
I gaze into his dark eyes. The answer is on the tip of my tongue, but I bite it back. “Are you?”
He chuckles, his smile turning playful. “Let’s find out.” He lifts me off him and pivots so he’s right behind me, caressing up my sides.
“You look good on your knees, Greely.”
“Don’t get used to it.” I gaze back at him.
He comes closer, his belt buckle pressing into my spine as he strokes up, taking the sweater with him. I raise my arms to help, but once the sweater is off, he lifts my arms to behind his neck. With a soft sigh into my hair, he caresses slowly down the underside of my arms to my breasts, his touch sensual, almost reverent.
“I could touch you like this all day.”
I bite my lip as the cravings start to stir inside me. If he keeps taking such good care of me like this, I won’t ever want him to stop. Closing my eyes, I turn so I can kiss him. He continues his unhurried exploration of my body, caressing and stroking, pausing to kiss me back.
He takes my hands from behind his neck and bends us forward. A shiver of anticipation travels down my spine as I grip the back of the couch. Hutch kisses down my back, his lips so soft, and slides my underwear down. I rock on my knees to help.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he says, caressing the outside of my thighs and over my hips. He strokes up my back, moving in behind me again, his erection thick and hard against me. I force a measured breath to slow my racing heart. I just need to have a little patience, and I’m sure he’ll tend to the cravings twisting tighter and tighter inside me. Or I could beg and he might take care of them now.
“You okay with me back here?” He caresses slowly over my ass.
I should fire back a snarky retort, but it’s like my tongue has lost power. Or maybe it’s my brain. He strokes me between my thighs, making me quiver.
“I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”
“Don’t stop,” I blurt.
He laughs. “Someone’s getting demanding.”
“It’s your fault.”
“I know,” he says in that sensual purr.
I funnel my irritation at how easily he’s turned me into a needy mess into maintaining what dignity I have left. What this man can do with just his fingers…
The pleasure from his touch ripples through me, making my breaths come faster and my core tighten. He cradles my right side with one hand and hovers over my spine, planting soft kisses while his attentive caresses start to unravel me. Gently, he thrusts a finger inside me.
I suck in a breath, my fingers curling around the back of the couch.
“You’re dripping for me, aren’t you?”
“I’m so going to get you back for this,” I manage between pants.
He withdraws, making my body shudder with need, and kisses up my spine. “Get me back for what?”
Begging him is on the tip of my tongue, but I’m scared to say what I need. Maybe because I’m not ready to admit how much I want him. Maybe I’m afraid it’ll drive him away—after all, if I tell him, it means he will have conquered his goal.
“Being so good to me,” I say instead .
He wraps his arms around me and sighs into my shoulder blade. “Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea how good I’m going to be to you.”
Hot tears prick my eyes but I blink hard to shove them back. What is wrong with me?
He strokes me again, dipping inside me and circling with his thumb. My body cramps with an urgent thirst. I don’t know how much longer I can take this.
“Please,” I whisper.
He sweeps my hair so it falls to one side, then caresses down my back. “Are you asking to be fucked, sweetheart?”
A shudder rattles through my core. He is torturing me. On purpose. I force a steadying breath. “If you don’t, I might have to do it myself.”
He laughs. “Oh, we’ll be having none of that.” To my relief, he unbuckles, the clang of the metal imprinting in my mind, driving my anticipation into crisis levels. “But I reserve the right to revisit that idea some other time. While I watch.”
Laughing, I glance over my shoulder. He grins back at me as he slips a condom from his wallet and drops his pants and briefs to the floor. Watching him roll the condom down his impressive length might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Or maybe it’s just my current state of crazy and how badly he’s made me want him.
He rubs me in soft circles, eyes locked with mine. “If it’s too much, you tell me.”
“Hutch,” I say on a sigh.
He moves between my thighs. The press of him right there has me gripping the couch in anticipation. Slowly, he rocks forward, pressing inside me. I gulp a breath as my body works to take him. God, it’s delicious. He rocks back and thrusts again, driving until there’s nothing between us.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he says, caressing up my sides and down my back.
I lower my forehead to the back of the couch to steady myself. He cradles my waist, like he needs to steady himself too. He starts to rock in slow, sensual thrusts, and it’s so incredibly good.
The movement of our bodies blends with the soft squeak from a couch spring and our panting breaths like the sexiest soundtrack ever made. His breaths get louder, faster. He’s so firm and hard where I’m needy and aching. With tenderness, he caresses me everywhere, my hips, my shoulders, my breasts, lighting up my skin, whispering praises, until I’m lost to the most intense form of pleasure I’ve ever known.
My climax builds from my deepest place, drawing every bit of tension inside me to one hard knot that I’m desperate to rip apart. I give into it, let it consume me. What other choice do I have? I can no longer hold back from this man. Even if it’s going to shatter me to pieces in the end.
When my climax hits, I close my eyes and brace against his thrusts, focusing on the way he is everything I need in this moment. My cries echo in the tight space as I relish the joy and beautiful hope expanding inside me. I try to hold onto it as it slips through my fingers.
Panting, I rest my forehead on the back of the couch.
With a groan, he withdraws, planting firm kisses down my spine to my still-throbbing flesh. He parts me open with his tongue, making me gasp.
I jolt away. I’m still too sensitive. I couldn’t possibly...
But he grips my thighs and buries his face between them, attacking me like a starving man. My fading climax takes a sharp turn and soon my belly feels molten and the craving for him spirals tight inside me.
I reach back for him while I arch to get more, my fingers curling into his hair. “Hutch, oh…”
His deep groan vibrates through me. I come again, bucking and gasping. With a satisfied sigh, he kisses up my spine and thrusts deep inside me. It’s firm, almost aggressive, sweetening the final notes of my release, drawing a sharp cry from my lips. He grips my waist and draws our bodies together, the rhythm quickening with his breaths. I bury my face into the couch as he takes control, coming with a firm grunt that sends a pulse of heat through me. I tighten around him as a tremor rattles down his frame. Panting, he folds forward and wraps his arms around me.
“Too fast,” he says.
Laughing, I reach back for him. “There’s a cure for that.”
With a groan, he kisses my shoulder. “It better involve your bed.”