Chapter 36
thirty-six
. . .
SUMMER
I can’t believe I told Rory that no guy has made me come before. It’s the truth, but I’d never planned on sharing that insecurity.
When I told him, I think I actually saw his chest puff up, like he was excited for the challenge and determined to make it happen.
Then, he asked me to say the words. To make it clear to him what I’m asking for.
I’ve already made it this far; there’s no turning back now.
“I want it to be you. Please make me come.” It comes out needier than I’d expected. More desperate. But that’s what I am. Desperate for Rory to touch me. To make me come undone. Because if there’s anyone I trust to be out of control with, it’s him.
Rory’s hands slide over the smooth fabric of my silk gown, skimming down my sides until they rest on my hips.
“This dress has been killing me all night. Maybe I’ll leave it on to prove a point.”
“What point would that be?” I ask.
His hands gather the material of the dress until I can feel cool air on the back of my legs. “That it was never the dress driving me wild.” His voice is low and rough. “It was you .”
Rory’s words send a delicious shiver down my spine. I’ve never been this desperate for a man to touch me. I’d all but thought I’d lost that side of myself.
In the next moment his mouth captures mine. This kiss is different than the others we’ve shared. It’s the honesty of two people admitting they want each other and I’ve never felt such a rush. Our lips fuse together and Rory owns every inch of my mouth.
His hands explore my body. My waist, my hips, then finally those large hands grip the flesh of my ass to pull me tighter against him.
I sigh into his touch. I haven’t been touched in so long. And never like this.
“I want to see all of you,” he growls between kisses.
Slipping the straps off my shoulders, the dress flutters into a puddle at my feet, leaving me in nothing but a thong.
“Summer.”
My heart slams against my sternum as Rory’s heated gaze pours over my naked body.
“You’re exquisite.”
With his hands around my waist, he lifts me up onto the closet island. The marble beneath me is cool in contrast to my scorching skin.
Stepping between my parted legs, Rory’s hands lift to cup my breasts while his thumbs trace circles over my nipples. I gasp at the feeling of his warm hands; how big they are and how good it feels. Then, I find myself arching my back to get closer.
“You’re so fucking pretty, Wildflower. Do you like having your tits played with?” he asks, dipping his head down to pull a nipple inside his mouth. It’s warm and wet, and his tongue is masterful as he swipes across my nipple before sucking it between his lips.
“Mmm. I don’t know. I mean, this feels amazing. I like it. But no one’s done it before.”
Rory’s hands stop moving but they remain on my breasts, holding the weight of me in his palms. When his gaze lands on mine, I see the fire blazing in his pupils.
“You asked me to make you come, and I will, but damn it, Summer, every inch of you deserves to be worshipped.” He drops a kiss to my neck. “And that’s what I intend to do.”
I’m not exactly sure what that entails, but the look in Rory’s eyes tells me there’s no room for discussion. He’s got an agenda, and the agenda is me.
He lifts me off the counter, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist, while my breasts press against the soft fabric of his dress shirt. The simple feel of his firm hands against my bare back sends a rush of arousal between my thighs.
Gently, he sets me down on the bed, then hovers above me like a Herculean god here to assert his will.
I’m mostly naked and he’s still got his shirt and pants on.
“Are you going to take off your clothes?” I ask, propping up on my elbows to see more of him.
“Do you want that?” He smirks. “Or is it against the rules?” He motions to the walk-in closet. “I’m sure I have a turtleneck in there somewhere if that’s what you’re into.”
“Funny.”
“It was your suggestion.”
My lips press together, trying not to laugh as I shake my head. “Take off your shirt, Flipper.”
With torturously slow movements, Rory starts to unbutton his shirt. He’s toying with me. For all the times I’ve seen Rory walking around with no shirt on, there’s something extremely erotic about watching him undress. The way the fabric slides over his shoulders. The ripple of his abdomen as he moves to pull one arm out, then the other. He hasn’t even touched me and it feels like my orgasm is imminent.
“Is that what you wanted, Wildflower?” With strong arms bracketing my head, he hovers above me, then drops a kiss to the corner of my mouth.
“Yes, and I want to touch you,” I find myself saying.
The corner of his lip quirks up. His knowing glance tells me everything. All my exasperation at him for being shirtless was merely frustration with myself for reacting to him. For wanting him. And even when I oiled him up at the campaign shoot, I’d felt hesitant. Unsure.
“I’m yours to touch.”
His words soothe me. They give me a sense of belonging that I’ve never had.
Lifting my hand from the bed, he kisses my palm, then places it against his chest.
My palms flatten against Rory’s pecs, appreciating the sturdiness of him. Shifting my eyes to his face, I stare up at him, watching his reaction as my hands map over his heated skin. When I reach the waistband of his pants, his jaw tightens and he lets out a restrained puff of air.
I’m going for the zipper on his slacks when he moves forward, pushing me back onto the bed.
“My turn.”
His lips are everywhere. My neck, my collar bone, my breasts.
Rory’s mouth has found its way back to my chest. Showing me, for the first time, what it feels like to have a man put my pleasure above his. To take the time to explore my body. With every touch my senses heighten, my heart rate kicks up and my breathing becomes shallow.
“Did you use your inhaler today?” he asks, chin propped on my belly button as he settles himself between my thighs.
“Yes.”
“That’s my girl.” He presses a kiss to my stomach, then pulls my thong down my legs and tosses it aside. “Now I can give you exactly what you need.”
When he says it, I believe him. I always thought I needed to be in control, but I don’t want that right now. Not with Rory.
So, when his palms press my thighs open, I let my knees fall and expose myself to him. In such a vulnerable position, I could easily feel self-conscious, but I don’t. Not with him.
Rory gazes between my thighs, then back up to my face.
“Look at you, Wildflower. Already so worked up, and I’ve barely touched you.”
It’s a teasing statement, but his tone is awestruck. Like a kid in a candy store who’s just been told everything inside is for them.
The liquid heat pooling at my core is for him. And he knows it. Dropping his head between my thighs, he flattens his tongue and licks up my center. That single lick has my eyes rolling into the back of my head.
“Fuck, Summer.” Rory groans against my center, before dipping his tongue inside me. “You taste like you were made to ruin me.”
My breath hitches at his words.
“You taste like sin and summer, and I’m never gonna get enough of you.”
With his molten gaze between my thighs, he slips a finger through my center, his knuckle bending to nudge at my entrance before moving upward to circle my clit.
Another soft tease up and down, but this time he sinks his finger inside me.
It’s a simple motion, but I’m mesmerized by how erotic a finger can feel. How connected it makes us.
When I glance up, I see Rory watching me closely. Like he cares about my response. Like he’s cataloging it and taking notes.
His hair falls forward, messy now from my hands.
I can’t take my eyes off him.
I’m struck by the way his broad shoulders tense with focus. How the sight and feel of his hands gripping my thighs, firm but reverent, makes me feel like I’m something both precious and wild.
The slight crease between his brows, like he’s concentrating harder now than he does at the starting block. Like I’m the thing he wants to win more than anything.
Watching him play with me only adds to the tension building between my thighs.
“You want more?” he asks, dipping his head down again to suck my clit.
“Yes.” I sigh.
My fingers weave through his hair, tugging at the thick strands while he buries his tongue inside me. Just like the night of the storm, Rory lets out a moan. It’s a soft whimper that I feel against my core. The telltale signs of my orgasm start to build.
“You feel that?” He presses two fingers inside me now. “How perfect you are around my fingers?”
His fingers continue to pump inside me, but he looks up from between my thighs. When our eyes meet, I’m done for.
Rory’s eyes dark, mouth glistening, a smug little twitch at the corner of his lips.
The sight of him there between my parted thighs, the feel of his fingers stroking, his thumb circling my clit, it’s too much.
All the pent-up emotion and need to hold back releases and my orgasm hits me full force.
“Oh, god. Rory.”
My orgasm comes crashing down on me. Waves of pleasure pulsing as nerve endings fire off one after another. I gasp at the pleasure bearing down on me. And the surge of wetness between my thighs.
Removing his fingers, Rory licks through my center, like he’s savoring me. My legs tremble as rivulets of pleasure continue to flow through my body.
Then, he’s there, hovering over me to capture my mouth with a deep, sensuous kiss.
“You’re so pretty when you come.” He brushes my wild hair away from my face.
“Thanks?” I laugh, feeling weightless. My body is boneless but I manage to push myself up to sitting. “That was…intense. It’s never felt like that before.” I cup his jaw and press my lips to his. “You get a gold star, Rory Shields.”
“I’ll put it next to my medals. But only if it says makes my wife come so fucking hard she squirts.”
“I did not squirt.” I pause, wondering if that’s what the extra wetness between my thighs was. “Did I?”
“Yeah. But don’t worry, I licked up every drop.”
Just staring at him makes my chest ache. I want to make him feel the same. I want a gold star, too.
I reach forward toward the button of his suit pants, but he gently wraps his hand around my wrist to pull me back. A sense of déjà vu tickles my brain.
“You don’t want me to touch you?” The familiar sting of rejection has me withdrawing. “I thought?—"
Rory reaches for me, shaking his head. “That’s not the issue. I want your hands all over me,” he blows out a breath, “but I need a minute.”
“Oh? Why?” I ask, still confused. I’d felt his erection on my thigh earlier. He seemed more than ready a few minutes ago.
He chuckles, his laugh filled with self-deprecation while his cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink.
“I already finished.”
“You did?” I glance down at the crotch of his pants, the thick ridge of him still pressed against the zipper.
“Yeah, in my pants.”
I blink once. Twice. That’s not what I was expecting at all.
“Does that happen often?” I ask, curiosity making me blunt.
“No. It’s never happened before.” He laughs again, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve never been this turned on, either. Never been so completely wrecked by giving pleasure.”
He pulls me close, holding me against his chest.
“It was you. You do that to me. Seeing your face when you came, the taste of your orgasm on my tongue. It was too much.”
After holding me in silence while I process what just happened, he releases me to push off the bed, and moves toward the bathroom. A minute later, he returns with a wash cloth.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“You’re right, I don’t have to. I want to.”
The look he’s giving me is pure adoration. I soak it up because I’m too tired to fight it.
The warm cloth against my inner thighs and sensitive flesh makes me shiver with pleasure. When he’s done, he tosses it aside and pulls me up toward the pillows.
“I had fun with you tonight. At the gala, and just now.”
“Same.”
“Thank you for trusting me. For letting me have you like that.”
I don’t know what to say. No one has ever thanked me for letting them give me an orgasm. Because no one ever has.
So, I focus on where my finger is tracing the tattoo on his shoulder blade. It’s the five rings symbolizing the Olympics.
“When did you get this?”
“After my first games.”
“How did you decide where you wanted to put it?” I ask.
“Because my shoulders carried the weight of everything I’ve endured to reach the Olympics. Every grueling set, every missed moment with friends, every sacrifice. But they’re also my source of power. Every stroke starts there.”
I smile, loving to hear the passion in his voice. “I thought you were going to say because it looks cool.”
“That, too.” He laughs, his finger tracing over the sensitive skin inside my wrist where wildflowers are inked. “What about yours?”
“They’re wildflowers.” I state the obvious.
“I know. They’re a symbol of freedom and independence. Someone who refuses to be tamed.”
My eyes narrow. “How do you know that?”
“I looked it up when I first saw your tattoo. After I gave you the nickname, I wanted to make sure it fit.”
“Hmm.”
“It fits you perfectly, Summer.” He presses his lips against my tattoo. “Why here? The skin is sensitive. It must have hurt.”
It did. But what’s physical pain when you’re hurting so much more emotionally?
The way Rory’s looking at me has me thinking he can read my mind. He’s too damn intuitive.
“So I could see it when I painted.”
He smiles, the skin beside his eyes crinkling. “I love it.”
We lie next to each other in contented silence, Rory brushing his fingers through my hair while I trace the lines of his carved muscles until a rumbling growl reverberates between us.
“Are you hungry?” Rory asks. I can hear the hopefulness in his voice.
“No, but I know you are,” I tease. “You’re always hungry.”
“I don’t want to get out of bed, but if I don’t eat, we’re going to be listening to my stomach growl all night.”
I stretch my arms above my head, then curl my naked body back into the covers.
“Go get your snack. I’m going to take a power nap. I’ll be good in ten.”
“Goodnight, Summer,” Rory says, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
“Seriously,” I mumble, “wake me up. I want to return the favor.”
“It wasn’t a favor. It was a privilege.”
God, he’s so sweet. I drift off thinking of all the ways I’m going to enjoy having him. Just as soon as I get some rest.