Chapter forty-six
Rylee
Let it out.
H is teeth sink into my skin again, sending a jolt of pain straight to my veins before his tongue swipes over my clit, the pleasure so intense it drowns out the pain. The mix of sensations makes my body tremble, the heat inside me building as I inch closer to release. His fingers slide inside me, curling perfectly, while his tongue continues its rhythm. The pressure keeps mounting, my body helpless against the overwhelming sensation.
And then the wave hits—it’s not just the orgasm; it’s everything I’ve been holding back. The pain, the shame, the fear; all of it crashes through me, and I can’t stop it. Tears spill over before I even realize they’re coming, my back arching off the bed, the pleasure twisting into something raw, something that feels like I’m being broken apart and pieced back together all at once.
“Luc,” I choke out his name. The sobs come harder, almost too much to handle, as if my body can’t separate the pleasure from the pain.
Before I register what’s happening, he’s pulling me into his arms. My head instinctively buries in the crook of his neck.
“Let it out, baby. I got you,” he whispers, his hand rubbing slow circles on my back.
The pressure in my chest feels like too much, and my teeth sink into his shoulder, needing something to hold on to. He doesn’t flinch or pull away, just holding me tighter as I break down in his arms. I cry until there are no more tears.
He continues holding me for what feels like hours until my body gradually relaxes and the sobs subside. I pull away to look at him, and what I see breaks me all over but in a completely different way. My eyes must be red and puffy, and my hair a tangled mess, but he’s staring at me like I’m the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.
His hazel eyes are full of tears, pain, tenderness, and something else I don’t dare to name. His curls fall over his broad shoulders. His hard chest rises and falls with each breath. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.
My thumb reaches out to wipe the tears on his cheek. “You’re crying?” I ask, feeling the wetness on my fingers. He glances down at my hand, surprised, like he didn’t even realize.
“I am,” he says, almost to himself.
I lean forward, pressing my lips to his eyelids and kissing them. “Gracias,” I whisper, my forehead resting against his.
He responds by pressing his lips softly to mine, lingering, as if trying to breathe me in. I hope he feels everything I shouldn’t be feeling but can’t stop myself from feeling. When I pull away, our breaths still mingle in the small space between us.
Beneath me, I can feel his hardness pressing against my core. My body hums with anticipation as I lift myself slightly, positioning him at my entrance. His hands tighten on my hips, but he lets me lead.
I wrap my arms around his neck as I sink down slowly, gasping at the way he stretches me, fills me, claims every inch of space inside me. I’m still so wet from my orgasm that he glides in easily, my body welcoming him with a soft, shuddering moan.
Our eyes lock, and I watch his reaction. His pupils darken, his chest rises and falls faster, and his lips part just slightly. God, those lips. They’re so soft, so full, and so damn kissable.
Once he’s buried all the way inside me, we don’t move. I take his bottom lip between my teeth and bite down gently, savoring the way he groans into my mouth. His hands flex against my skin as I start the kiss slow, teasing, deepening it when I feel his control slip.
My fingers tangle in his curls, and they are so soft. He groans again, his head dipping lower, his lips finding my nipple. He sucks onto them before his tongue swirls around the sensitive bud. The sensation makes me whimper as I rock my hips against him.
I move slowly, savoring the fullness, the way he reaches places I swear have never been touched. The room is quiet except for the soft, wet sounds of our bodies moving together, our breathing growing heavier, our gazes locked, drinking in each other’s every reaction.
He needs more, but he’s still waiting, letting me take what I need first.
Lifting myself higher, I shift into a squat, pressing my hands against his chest for balance. I ride him faster, deeper, the new angle making me whimper. His head tilts back, a deep groan ripping from his throat, his fingers digging into my thighs.
Then his eyes roll back.
I’ve never seen that before. Maybe I’ve just never paid attention. But knowing I’m the one making him come undone? It makes me feral.
“You like that?” I pant, tightening around him, squeezing him just to hear the choked sound he makes. “You like the way I ride this dick?”
His hands dig into my hips. “Yes, baby.”
A wicked smirk tugs at my lips as I pick up the pace, rolling my hips, chasing that perfect friction. “Are you ready to come for me, papi?”
That’s it. That last part sends him over the edge. A sharp curse leaves his lips as his body shudders. I follow right behind him, pleasure slamming into me so hard it steals my breath.
His grip turns to bruise, holding me in place as his hips jerk upward, filling me with his release. “ Fuck Rylee. ” He groans my name like a prayer.
A broken moan leaves me as I collapse against him, my forehead resting against his damp skin. His hands slide up my back, tracing lazy circles, his breathing still ragged. I feel weightless, floating somewhere between exhaustion and bliss, my eyes fluttering closed as his warmth wraps around me. I slip into a peaceful place, safe in his arms.