Chapter 18 #2
The dress whispered against her legs as it fell and pooled at her feet.
She stepped out of it, turning back to face me in nothing but black lace panties and nude heels.
The sight knocked the breath from my lungs.
Her perfect abs. Her perfect breasts, nipples peaked and hardened already.
For a moment, I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.
This was Faith—brilliant, challenging Faith—choosing me, wanting me.
“Fuck, Faith.” My hands skimmed up her thighs, barely touching, just enough to feel the heat of her skin, then over her hips, spanning her waist. I could feel her breathing quicken under my palms, her rib cage expanding with each shaky breath. “You’re perfect.”
“Touch me,” she demanded, pulling me down for another kiss. This kiss was different. Deeper. More desperate. I could taste her need, feel it in the way her nails scraped lightly against my scalp. “I need you to touch me.”
I walked her backward to the chaise lounge, my mouth never leaving hers.
With each step, I undid another button of my shirt, her hands helping, our fingers tangling together in the effort.
When the backs of her knees hit the furniture, she lay back, her hair fanning out like silk against the cream fabric.
She spread her legs in invitation.
The sight of her laid out before me, skin flushed with desire, eyes dark with want, trust written in every line of her body, made me want to bury myself in her. Right now. But I’d make this last.
The bridal suite’s gentle amber lights painted patterns across her skin, and I realized I wanted to memorize this exact moment. Not just the physical perfection of her, but the way she looked at me like I was everything she needed.
Shirtless, I dropped to my knees.
“I’ve been thinking about tasting you.” I pressed kisses up her inner thigh. Between kisses, I admitted, “Every night. Every damn time you challenged me, every time you smiled, I thought about this.”
“Ryker, please …” Her voice broke on my name, and something primal and tender simultaneously roared to life in my chest.
“I want to worship you first,” I murmured against her skin. “And tonight, I won’t stop until I give you at least three orgasms.”
I hooked my fingers in her panties, dragging them down slowly, watching her squirm. “Patience, Warrior,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her hip bone. Then the other. Then the soft skin just below her navel. The way she gasped at each simple touch told me she was already on edge.
Good. I wanted her desperate. Wanted her to feel even a fraction of what she’d done to me these past weeks.
I kissed a path down one thigh, then back up the other, deliberately avoiding where she needed me most. Her hips lifted off the chaise lounge, seeking, and I pressed them back down.
“Ryker.” My name was half plea, half warning.
“I know, Warrior.” I nuzzled against her inner thigh, close enough that she could feel my breath on her core. “But I’ve been thinking about this for too long to rush it.”
When I finally put my mouth on her, we both groaned. The sound she made—half gasp, half moan—was the most erotic thing I’d ever heard.
She tasted like heaven and sin combined.
I worked her with my tongue, starting slow, teasing.
Learning what made her gasp, what made her arch, and all the ways to make her writhe.
I pulled back just when her breathing quickened, kissing her thigh until she whimpered, then returned to her core with renewed focus.
Her hands tangled in my hair, her nails scraping against my scalp in a way that sent lightning down my spine, holding me exactly where she needed me.
“God, your mouth,” she gasped. “Ryker, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
I hummed against her in response, and the vibration made her back bow off the furniture.
I pushed two fingers inside her, slowly, letting her adjust, feeling her clench around them immediately.
So tight. So warm. She was so wet, so ready.
The knowledge that I’d done this to her, made her this desperate, made her choose me above everyone else who wanted her, sent fire through my veins.
This brilliant, untouchable woman was coming apart under my touch, and the trust of that, the intimacy of it, made my chest ache with something I wasn’t ready to name.
“That’s it, Warrior,” I encouraged, curling my fingers to find that spot that made her cry out, pumping my fingers while my tongue circled that sensitive bundle of nerves. “You’re so perfect, Faith. So fucking perfect.”
I felt her climbing higher, her body coiling tighter with every stroke. She was close. I could feel it in the way her legs tensed against my shoulders, the way her breath came in sharp little bursts.
Her thighs started trembling, her breathing becoming erratic, punctuated with soft whimpers. “I’m … oh God, I’m …”
“Come for me.”
She shattered, crying out my name as her whole body shook.
The sound carved itself into my memory with something I’d replay on every lonely night for the rest of my life.
I worked her through it, gentling my touch as the waves peaked, not letting up until she stopped trembling.
Only then did I press one last gentle kiss to her inner thigh and pull back to look at her.
Flushed, breathing hard, looking at me with eyes that held something deeper than just satisfaction.
“One,” I said, my voice rough with my own need and something that felt dangerously close to more than just sex, as I stood and finished stripping off my clothes.
I kept my eyes on hers, watching the way she looked at me, and I knew with sudden clarity that after tonight, nothing would ever be the same.
“You’re really counting?” she panted, watching me with hungry eyes.
“I’m a man of my word.” I pulled her to her feet, then turned her around. “Hands on the wall.”
She braced herself against the wall, looking back at me over her shoulder. The curve of her ass, the arch of her back, the way her hair fell like a curtain of silk … she was a vision.
I ran my hands over her hips, down her thighs, then back up to cup her breasts. She pushed back against me, and I groaned at the contact.
“I’ve imagined you like this,” I admitted, positioning myself at her entrance. “Every time I close my eyes.”
“Stop imagining,” she said. “Start doing.”
I thrust into her in one smooth motion, and we both cried out. She was so tight, so hot, so perfect around me. I had to still for a moment, afraid I’d lose control too quickly.
“Please, Ryker …”
I pulled back and thrust again, but slower this time, wanting to savor every second. My hands traced up her spine, feeling the way she shivered at the gentle touch contrasting with the deeper connection.
“You feel incredible,” I breathed against her shoulder, pressing a kiss there. The rhythm I set was deliberately measured.
She pushed back against me, trying to increase the pace, but I held her hips steady. “Not yet,” I murmured. “I want to memorize you.”
My hand slid around to her stomach, holding her against me as I moved, feeling the way her breathing hitched with each slow thrust.
“Touch yourself,” I commanded, my voice rough with the effort of maintaining control.
She hesitated for just a moment before slowly sliding her hand down her stomach. The first brush of her fingers against her core made her gasp, and the sight of her touching herself while I was buried inside her nearly broke me.
“That’s it,” I breathed, my grip tightening on her hip. “Let me see you.”
I matched my thrusts to the rhythm of her hand, slow and deliberate, watching the way her back arched, the way her head dropped forward. Every sound she made—every whimper, every broken breath—wound me tighter.
“Ryker …” My name came out strangled, desperate.
“I’ve got you.” I pressed my chest against her back, my lips finding her shoulder, her neck, that spot behind her ear that made her melt. “Just feel it.”
Her movements became more urgent, her fingers circling faster, and I could feel the change in her body with the way she started clenching around me in rhythmic pulses, the way her thighs trembled against mine. She was climbing, and I was right there with her, fighting to hold on.
“God, you’re beautiful like this,” I groaned against her skin, pumping harder, faster. “So close. I can feel it.”
Her breathing fractured into sharp little cries, her body coiling tighter with every thrust, every stroke of her own fingers. The pressure building between us was electric, inevitable.
“That’s it,” I encouraged, my lips at her ear. “Come for me again, Faith.”
This time, her release seemed to go on forever, her whole body shaking as she cried out.
The way she said my name, broken and breathless, made something fierce surge through me.
I had to grip her hips tight to keep from following her over, wanting to make this last, to give her everything I’d promised.
“Two,” I ground out, my voice barely recognizable as I slowly pulled out of her.
She sagged forward, catching herself on the wall as I ran my hands up her sides, soothing, steadying, giving her just a moment to float back down.
I turned her gently, and her eyes met mine as I pulled her to the chaise, and onto my lap, facing me. She came willingly, her thighs bracketing mine, her hands finding my shoulders for balance. She sank down onto me slowly, inch by inch, and we both groaned.
For a moment, neither of us moved. Just breathed. Adjusting to the fullness, the closeness, the way this position put us chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.
Her forehead dropped to mine. “God, you feel amazing,” she breathed, starting to move.
She rolled her hips slowly at first, finding her rhythm, and I let her set the pace. Let her take what she needed. My hands stayed anchored on her waist, but I didn’t rush her.
“That’s it,” I murmured, watching her face. “Just like that.”