Cat
Never let go. Just keep holding on. Don’t ever let him go.
It’s the only thought in my head as I feel Ronan—his body heat against my skin, his hands on my back, arms holding me so tightly, afraid to ever let go again. I feel his heart kicking against his ribs, matching mine, and for the first time in one hundred and forty-three days I feel whole.
Without being able to stop them, tears start falling. I let them, releasing all the fear, the pain, the worry I kept locked away inside. The feel of him is so familiar yet so new and raw after the long absence. His clean, masculine scent is as comforting as the heat of his warm body and as arousing as his lips on mine. He kisses me deeply, sensually, tasting me like his survival depends on it, and I press myself closer against him, try to melt into him, craving the physical contact.
“Okay, Kitty , leave some for us,” Vada says from behind me.
“Some things never change,” Ronan mutters against me. He kisses my lips softly again before pulling back and smiling at Vada.
I frown, not wanting to let him go just yet, but Ronan reaches for my hand and interlaces our fingers before moving toward Vada, Shane, Zack, Summer, Tori, and Steve, who are standing in the living room, positively beaming.
Vada bounds toward Ronan and throws her arms around his neck, letting out a squeal of delight as he gives her a one-armed hug with me by his side, still holding my hand tightly. Seems Ronan isn’t so eager to let me go either.
Shane pulls Ronan against himself, holding on to him tightly for quite a while.
“You’re gonna have to let me go or Tori might get jealous,” Ronan jokes.
Shane chuckles, then finally releases Ronan, and I think I glimpse Shane wipe a stray tear from his cheek.
“Fuck, I can’t believe you’re here,” Shane says, more emotional than I’ve ever seen him as he gives Ronan an approving once-over. “You look really fucking good, man. Good as new,” he says with a nod and a smile.
He’s right, Ronan looks amazing. Tall and gorgeous as ever. His dark jeans hug his hips perfectly, and even though he’s wearing a white hoodie I can tell he’s regained the muscle mass he lost during his recovery because the fabric contours his muscular shoulders, arms, and chest before tapering off and fitting more loosely around his sculpted abs. Just the thought results in a powerful wish to get him alone, to undress him, to feel him.
“When the hell did you get back?” Shane asks, leading the way out to the deck.
Ronan takes a seat in his usual spot on the rattan sectional and immediately pulls me into his lap. “Yesterday,” he says while I lean back against him. He slides his arms around me, pulling me even closer.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?” I ask him. I study his face. The scar around his left eye is much lighter than it was five months ago, and he’s as perfect as ever. His hair is freshly cut, just the way I love it—tightly cropped in the back, which feels amazing against my fingers as they gently graze the back of his neck again and again—and longer in the front with strands that would fall over his forehead if his hair wasn’t styled just right like it is tonight. My eyes flicker to his full lips, craving more of him, but I contain my desires—for now—because I know everyone will want their fill of him.
He notices my eyes lingering, and there it is, that sexy half smile I’ve missed so much.
“I honestly didn’t know I was coming home until last Wednesday, and I didn’t want to make you antsy during your trip to North Carolina, so I didn’t call you when I got my phone back.” He strokes his thumb across my cheek. “, I missed you so much,” he says, and to my absolute delight he brushes his soft lips against mine.
“So, like, how are you doing?” Zack stammers. “Are you… feeling better at all or…”
Ronan raises his brows at him. “You mean do I still want to off myself?”
Everyone falls silent.
“Yeah, I mean…” Zack mutters, fidgeting.
“I’m okay,” Ronan says. He gives me a little squeeze. “Guys, please don’t walk on eggshells around me. Please. I’m still me. Nothing has changed. The only thing that’s different is that…”—he swallows hard—“that you all know now. And I fucking hate that you know. I never meant for this to happen.”
“We’re honestly just glad to have you back,” Vada says, then shakes her head. “I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through. But I guess we’ll find out at the trial when—”
“Wait, what?” Ronan goes rigid under me. “You’re not going to the trial.”
“Yeah, we are,” Vada says defiantly. I frown at her forwardness. She has no filter, and I worry she might inadvertently say something to trigger Ronan. “Zack, Shay, and Steve are witnesses, and the rest of us are going, too,” she says, and looks around at all of us.
“The fuck you are,” Ronan says, an edge to his voice. He looks around the group and is met with silence. “No, seriously, don’t do this.” He shifts me out of his lap to get up.
“Ran, like it or not, we’re going to support you through this damn trial,” Shane says with authority in his voice. “You don’t have to do this alone. I hate the fact that I knew what was happening to you and I didn’t do shit about it.”
“None of this is your fault,” Ronan says through gritted teeth as he paces the deck in front of me, raking his hands through his hair.
“It’s not yours, either.” Shane takes a step toward his best friend. “Ran, we already know what happened. It’s not going to change anything, okay?”
“You don’t know everything,” Ronan shouts. “You don’t know all the fucking details. You guys are already acting like I might break apart on you any second. How do you think you’ll feel when you find out my mother choked me with a belt until I passed out when I was four? Or that she withheld food from me for two days straight when I was six? Or any of the other fun things she decided to torture me with? It’s not a god damn movie. This shit… it really happened to me. I can’t even talk with my fucking therapist about it, and you want to hear all the gory fucking details?”
I’m not the only one to gasp audibly, a sensation as though someone zapped me with a taser making my body stiffen. His mom choked him with a belt until he passed out? When he was only four years old? Already I’m doubting my ability to listen to everything Ronan has endured without having a physical reaction, without getting violently sick to my stomach or breaking down in sobs. God, I can’t fathom what he has endured.
Shane approaches his best friend cautiously, slowly closing the distance between them. “I get why you’re scared,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “But we’re not going to feel any differently about you. If anything, you’re a fucking badass for surviving what you went through. Never, not once, have I ever thought you’re weak or that you’d break apart. Ran, I know you. And I know you will hide this shit away until the end of your days and it will eat you up from the inside. You don’t have to shoulder this alone. Not anymore.”
I get up off the sofa and reach for Ronan, resting my hand on his forearm. The creases on his brow soften when he looks at me. “Ran, what do you think will happen if we go to the trial?” I want to understand him, feel what he’s feeling, and above all, make him feel better.
It takes him a moment to respond while we all stay quiet, analyzing him. I can tell he’s worked up and uncomfortable. I feel guilty. He got back to us ten minutes ago and already we’re bringing up traumatic things.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. And that’s what scares me. I can’t have you guys acting differently around me. I need you to just keep things normal. You guys have always been the only stability in my life. I can’t lose that.” His breathing is heavy, like he’s on the verge of an anxiety attack.
I get it now. He’s afraid we’ll treat him differently, or worse, abandon him. I know without a shadow of doubt that would never happen. But he doesn’t know that; he’s never been safe, and he’s afraid of losing the only predictable, secure thing he’s ever had—us.
“I love you,” I say. His eyes meet mine. “Nothing will change that. Nothing your sorry excuse for a mother ever did to you will change the way I feel about you. Hearing what you’ve been through will never change that. Okay, it might make me love you more, if that’s even possible.” I mutter that last part, then speak up again. “And I know the same goes for every single one of us here.”
“We got you, Ran,” Shane says.
“We really do,” Vada says.
Zack nods. “Yeah, man. Forever and ever in sickness and in health, and all that.”
A smile tugs at Ronan’s lips. He sighs. “Fine. Do what you want. I clearly can’t stop you, even though I wish I could. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. And if you so much as start to tiptoe around me or be all weird and shit, I’m going to lose it,” he says. “Man, I’ve been back five seconds and already I need a fucking drink.”
Shane grins, punching Ronan’s shoulder playfully. “It’s because we love you.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Ronan says and turns to me. “I’ll be right back.”
I watch him walk into the house and out of my sight.
“Wow, way to make this intense, asshole,” Steve says to Zack.
“Sorry, I didn’t think Vada would start talking about the trial and all that. You guys are still going though, right?” Zack asks.
“Of course!” Tori says. “I think it’ll be good for Ronan to know we’re there, and we obviously want to support you guys, too,” she says to Zack, Steve, and Shane, all of whom were already forewarned that they’d be subpoenaed to testify.
“I have to say, I’m scared to hear what happened to Ran. Like, really, really finding out about it,” Vada says, an anxious expression on her face.
I get queasy thinking about it. “Me, too,” I say. “But I feel like I need to know.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Shane says resolutely.
I look toward the house and don’t spot Ronan through the glass sliding doors. “I’m going to go check on him.”
“Sounds good,” Shane says.
***
I make my way into the house, stopping in the living room. It’s an open space with an unobstructed view into the kitchen. My heart lurches joyfully at the sight of Ronan leaning against the counter. He’s such a gorgeous male specimen.
“Already drinking all your sorrows away?” I say softly, noting the unopened bottle of whiskey on the counter next to him.
His head snaps around at the sound of my voice, a smile on his lips the moment he lays eyes on me. I love his smile. I move toward him and wrap my arms around his waist.
He pulls me close. “No. Not yet,” he chuckles. “I was thinking about it, but I’m trying to be better about sitting with the discomfort and grounding myself or whatever,” he says, releasing me from his hold only to search my eyes. “How are you doing, baby?”
I know he’s referring to everything that’s going on with Adam. “I don’t know,” I say and take a moment to think. Ronan doesn’t interject. “Scared, but also relieved… a little.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It… it felt heavy. Not telling you and…”
He nods. “I get that. Secrets like that, they eat away at you.” There’s sadness in his green eyes. “I wish you had told me, though. Before you sent him pictures of you.”
A heavy silence settles around us. I swallow the painful lump forming in my throat as tears burn at the back of my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Ran,” I croak. “I… I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to fix this. I just… I was so scared he’d post the photos on the internet. Ran, I feel so, so ashamed. I felt ashamed then and I feel even worse now. And I… I’m so scared of losing you. I love you. I’ve never felt this way. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I say as the tears slowly roll down my cheeks.
Ronan shakes his head. “I am the best thing that’s ever happened to you?”
I nod.
“Baby, you’re… You saved my life…” He drops his gaze to the floor for a moment before his eyes lock on mine. “I’m not angry at you. I’m aware enough to understand that you didn’t have much of a choice. What Adam did, that’s about as low as it gets, and I’m pretty sure it’s also illegal.”
Again, I nod.
“I hate that this asshole has pictures of you. I hate that he ever put his hands on you. I’m pissed that he scares you. But I’m not angry at you,” he says again. “And I also don’t think you have anything to be ashamed of. Nudes, I mean, I’m pretty sure all our friends send each other nudes. Not, like, to everyone, but—”
I laugh through my tears. His attempt to make me feel better is so sweet. How did I get so damn lucky with him? “Yeah, they were very forthcoming with that.”
“The difference is that none of them share that stuff. Like, even amongst us guys. Shane would never show me any nudes of Tori. Zack would never share pictures he has of Summer, and Steve never, not once even talked to me about the stuff Vada has sent him. I’d just know he got one by his reaction or his face when a message from Vada came through.”
“Pretty sure the guys send nudes to the girls, too,” I say.
Ronan grins. “I know they do.”
“Have you ever sent a…?” I admit that it would make me feel a million times better if I knew Ronan, too, had committed a transgression like that, had maybe sent a nude of himself to a girl.
But he shakes his head. “No. But I’ve been sent nudes,” he says and chuckles.
“Really?”
“Yeah, a couple of times by girls I hooked up with. It’s the reason I stopped giving out my number. I didn’t want to put myself or the girl in any kind of compromising position.”
“What did you do with the pictures?”
“Deleted them… eventually,” he says with a mischievous smirk on his full lips, but he turns serious again. “Baby, I meant it last year when I said that I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. I never wanted to make myself vulnerable to anyone before you, so sending a dick pic or whatever, that never even crossed my mind. And the couple of times a girl sent me a picture of her—I mean, as nice as that was—it just wouldn’t have felt right to have something like that if I had no intention of having any sort of relationship with her.”
Jeez, if anyone had asked me only a year ago whether I believed boys like Ronan existed, I’d have readily responded with “hell no.”
I feel the weight lift from my shoulders. I had been dreading this conversation. I knew Ronan and I would have to have it eventually, and I was scared to talk about this with him face to face. His reaction, however—his calm demeanor, the way he makes me feel nothing but loved—makes me wonder once again why I decided to withhold this from him for so long.
I grin at him. “So, what you’re telling me is that you’d send me a nude picture?”
He narrows his eyes at me, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. “Uh, I mean, maybe. Would you send me one of you?”
“I don’t know, I—”
“I’m sorry, that wasn’t right to ask, especially right now. I move at your pace, baby. Always,” he tells me like he has told me so many times before. “And you should know that if you ever decided to… to trust me like that, I’d rather die before I ever exposed you or even threatened bullshit like that.”
I wipe the last stray tear from my cheek, then wrap my arms around him once more. “Yeah, I know. It’s something I learned about you pretty quickly. That I can trust you with all of me.”
A fleeting expression of pain moves over his face. “Hopefully I’ll never let you down,” he says, studying my face. “You’re so beautiful, ,” he breathes. “It’s so weird. Being away, I never forgot how gorgeous you are, but having you here with me right now, it’s seriously unreal how perfect you are.” He tightens his hold on me a little more.
I smile before gently pressing my lips to his, parting them immediately to allow him access. He doesn’t disappoint, kissing me with such tormenting delicateness that I fear my knees might give out. His tongue massages mine softly before his lips leave my mouth only to make a path to my jawline, then my neck. My skin is already hypersensitive, and when Ronan moves his hand underneath my shirt and grazes my bare back with gentle intensity, goosebumps erupt all over my body. He urges our bodies closer together, desperate to erase whatever separation remains, no matter how slight. I can’t help the little whimper that escapes my lips at the sensation of his growing hardness pressing against my hip.
“?” he mutters against my neck, his warm breath causing heat to pool deep within my core. Even just the sound of his voice—rough and raspy—speaks volumes. He’s starving, though it isn’t food he requires. I know what he needs right now without him saying anything else, because I need it too. I need him. All of him.
I step back enough to look into his eyes—those beautiful green eyes filled with want and desire for me—and take his hand. I lead him out of the kitchen, past the sliding glass doors, and into the small guest bedroom that has become a familiar hideout for us when we need to get lost in each other.
Ronan shuts and locks the door behind us. My heart hammers in my chest as he turns toward me. The deck lights wind their way through the blinds, illuminating the room without compromising our privacy, and I watch Ronan intently as he takes the two steps that separate us. Heat rises inside me with the anticipation of his hands on my body.
The moment he reaches me, Ronan crushes his lips to mine. There is an urgency in the way he touches me, his hands greedy as they push up the hem of my shirt, his movements quick, hurried. It’s so unlike the last time we saw each other, the last time we had sex. It was the day before he left for Montana and he was in a bad place, emotionally as well as physically. We made slow, gentle love then. Where the last time was meant to convey the depth of our love for each other, this right here is pure, unfiltered physical longing and I can’t. Get. Enough. Being with him, giving myself to him feels as necessary as breathing. I lift my arms over my head in time for Ronan to swiftly pull my sweater and shirt off me and drop them to the floor.
My breathing, already erratic, speeds up even more as Ronan trails kisses down my neck, across my collarbone, and to my shoulder while he backs us up toward the soft bed. He licks and nips at my left shoulder while his hand pulls the strap of my lacy white bra off my right. I run my hands under his hoodie and up his back, feeling his heated skin and taut muscles. His body is hot, almost feverish with need. He reaches behind him and pulls his sweater off, giving me the perfect view of his bare chest. He is so beautiful. And it’s not just his face and body, he’s beautiful on the inside, too. So, so beautiful. How anyone could maliciously hurt him is beyond me. I let my eyes roam his body, noting the fitful rise and fall of his breath and his flexed muscles. He’s perfect—his chest, his arms and shoulders, his stomach all lean and muscular. I trace the ridges of his abs up to his chest, smiling as goosebumps erupt where I touch him. My eyes momentarily linger on his scars before I run my fingers softly over them, feeling the slightly raised lines.
He flinches at my touch.
“I love you,” I whisper.
He takes my hand and moves it to his lips, then kisses my palm gently. “I love you more,” he says, then glides his hands up my back, unhooks my bra, and slips the last strap off my shoulder. He lets his eyes roll over my exposed chest, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue like he’s about to devour me. Undiluted hunger resides in his features, making me shiver with need for him.
Our lips find each other again—easily, naturally—though I get to taste him only briefly before he once again begins to kiss my face, then my neck. He forges a path to my chest while his hands glide down my sides, centimeter by centimeter, feeling each rib, arriving at my hips. He doesn’t linger. His left hand moves to undo first the button, then the zipper of my jeans while his tongue softly sweeps down my chest. I reach into his hair when he kisses a hot path between my breasts and down to my belly button, lowering himself onto his knees while I stand in front of him, watching his every move through hazy eyes. I am so aroused by his touch, his mouth, his movements.
His hands tug on the waistband of my jeans, and he pulls them down to my ankles, allowing me to step out of them.
He chuckles admiringly. “I’ve been dying to see you in this,” Ronan says, grazing his hand over my bare butt cheek before hooking his thumb under the waistband of my thong. A breathy moan escapes my mouth, and my eyes shut as Ronan begins to kiss my bare legs, alternating between left and right. He reaches his right hand up, cupping my breast, outlining it.
“Ohh,” I breathe when his thumb grazes over my hard nipple in the exact moment that his lips kiss me against my white lace thong. His warm breath seeps through the barely-there fabric and causes hot arousal to pool in the same spot. He presses his face against my Venus mound, inhaling deeply before he releases a deep, sensual growl. And though I would have never imagined it possible, his animalistic gesture sends a shockwave of need through my body.
“Ran,” I moan, grabbing fistfuls of his hair as I let my head fall back. I need more, and he senses it. In one quick movement, Ronan stands to lift me up and onto the bed. He lays me back against the comforter before gently tugging my thong off me and dropping it to the floor, then situating himself between my legs. He suddenly seems to be everywhere at once, his right hand rolling the sensitive peak of my breast between his thumb and index finger while the other is in his warm mouth, laved by his soft tongue. I can’t express how much I’ve missed this, how much I’ve missed him.
“Baby, I have to taste you,” he whispers against my skin, his tone a mixture of plea and command, then descends between my thighs.
I move my hands to his hair, my eyes shut tightly, waiting, anticipating. I feel his warm breath against me, then whimper loudly when the flat of his tongue sweeps slowly over my aching flesh. He does it once, twice, then again and again, from my entrance up to my clit. I’ve never done or felt anything like this before, and I climb rapidly, gasping for air at the sensations caused by Ronan’s warm mouth and wet tongue.
I’m out of my mind with arousal, grinding my hips rhythmically with the strokes of his tongue.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” Ronan groans against me. He moves his hands under and around my thighs, urging my legs farther apart, spreading me. And though I’m so vulnerable to him, so exposed, I don’t feel anything but safe. “Fuck,” he groans again and drags his tongue along the length of my needy skin and over that hypersensitive little bundle of nerves.
I must be positively gushing with wetness by now, desperate want pooling in my stomach and between my legs. My hands are in his hair, tugging at the roots, my fingers digging into his scalp. Nothing exists but the sensation of Ronan’s mouth between my thighs. He increases the pressure, his tongue pushing against my swollen bud, circling and flicking it, and my hips buck with pleasure, seeking more.
“Don’t stop,” I plead, my voice barely a whimper.
But he wouldn’t dream of stopping now. Instead, he moves his left hand to meet his mouth and slowly slips first one, then two fingers inside me. He feels me like that, worshiping my body, his fingers slow, deep, and deliberate while his tongue continues its sensual dance against my sensitive flesh.
God, I never imagined sex would feel this incredible, never anticipated being able to trust someone like I trust Ronan. I’m lost in a void, only feeling Ronan’s hands and mouth as he tastes me, absolutely devours me. He deepens his strokes then, his fingers curling against my inner walls and moving in a come-hither sort of manner. He’s stimulating me in a way that causes my core to clench around him and my vision to blur as the pleasure, the want builds with dizzying speed. I want more of it, chasing that sweet, hot release, and move my hips in rhythm with his tongue and fingers, which are as slick as my aching flesh. “So damn wet for me,” Ronan groans, then carefully sucks my clit into his mouth. Just like that I reach the apex, and the waves that had been building crash over me. My breathing deepens, breathy moans bursting from my lips as powerful, all-consuming ecstasy repeatedly pulses through me. His tongue and fingers urge me on, prolonging the bliss.
I regain control only for a moment, my face flushed and heated. “I need to feel you,” I whisper.
Ronan gives me a heart-stopping smile, his lips glistening with my arousal, his pupils blown wide with need. He pushes off the bed long enough to undo his jeans and drop them, along with his navy boxer briefs, to the floor.
I’ll never tire of seeing him naked. I haven’t seen a lot of guys naked in my life, but I know perfection when it’s in front of me. And Ronan is perfection. His manhood is erect, jutting out at me, thick, and long, and hard. My eyes roll down the hard lines of his sculpted abs and follow that perfect v-cut that leads like an arrow to his groin and his hardness. I allow my gaze to rest on it for a moment then travel along the hard shaft all the way to his tip. His skin is taut, and I note the clear drops of fluid already leaking from him. I can’t help but lick my lips. He’s delicious, and my need for him feels positively primal.
He moves onto the bed and positions himself between my legs. I reach between us, eager to touch him before our bodies become one. The silky feel of his skin never ceases to surprise me, the contrast stark with his sharp lines, muscles cut as if carved from stone, every ridge, dip, and rise perfectly shaped. It’s a lethal combination. I grasp his erection, noting his size. If I hadn’t felt him before, I’d be scared. I’m still a little nervous. After all, it’s been months since we’ve had sex, but any momentary apprehension is drowned out by my longing for him, for his body. I circle my thumb over the head, coating it with his pre-cum. His breath stutters and he jerks in my hand. It turns me on so much to know I have the power to make him feel like this, that it’s far from one sided. As much power as he has over me, I can make him lose control just as easily.
I stroke him for a moment, dragging my fist tightly down and back up his shaft and over the tip. His cock jumps in my hand when I carefully squeeze his tip. I swear I feel him grow harder still. “Baby, please,” he begs with shallow inhales. “Let me feel you.”
I withdraw my hand only to move it to his back. He looks at me through hooded, glossy eyes as he lowers his body onto mine, then begins to push inside me.
I’m beyond ready for him, and I can see in his face that he is, too. But he draws it out, pushing inside me agonizingly slowly, savoring me like I’m savoring every millimeter, every thick, rock-hard inch of him. I feel him stretch me, fill me, while I squeeze around him. It’s almost too much, yet not nearly enough.
He pauses, causing me to open my eyes. “Are you okay?” he asks, waiting for my response.
I whimper a tiny “yeah,” then moan loudly, uncontrollably when, with one hard thrust, Ronan buries his full length deep inside me, the sensation a mix between indescribable pleasure and delicious pain.
“Fuck, I missed you,” Ronan groans against my neck, his voice husky and raw, sending jolts of need through me. He sounds high—drunk on us—his words slow, drawn out. We’re still for a moment, staying exactly like that as my body adjusts to him, working to accommodate his size.
“You feel so fucking good,” he breathes so quietly I almost miss it. He begins to move again, his thrusts long and slow like he’s pacing himself, trying to make it last for as long as he can possibly stand it.
I reach my arms around him, pulling myself up and against his chest. I’m desperate to minimize the space between our bodies. I breathe against his neck, moaning with each delicious thrust of his hips. His skin is hot, damp as I move my hands across it, coming to rest in the spot between his shoulder blades.
“You’re so damn tight,” he breathes, rocking into me, his entire body flexed and hard yet his skin soft as silk. If I could melt into him, I would, but instead I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. I know he’s holding back on me, always and forever careful not to overstep my boundaries, always and forever moving at my pace.
“Harder, Ran,” I say, digging my fingers into his back.
His eyes lock on mine as if searching for my permission to lose himself to me, to forego all restraint.
“Harder,” I breathe again, holding his gaze even though my eyes threaten to shut with his delicious weight, his exquisite strokes. His eyes flare with need and he obliges, his thrusts harder, faster, deeper still. He sets an unrelenting pace, hitting that perfect spot in my core. My head falls back against the pillow, a new wave of pleasure beginning to crest within me. I try to stay quiet, aware that the only thing that separates us from our group of friends is a window and a wall, but I’m no longer in control of myself. I moan and whimper underneath him, breathing hard, muttering his name as if me saying it somehow makes the fact that he’s here with me more real, more permanent. I was so empty without him.
I find myself eager to meet each of his movements and grab his hips, pushing myself against him each time his body collides with mine. I can see the tension rise in Ronan’s body, sense the pleasure building for him as he drives into me.
“God, how do you feel this good?” he groans. I can tell he’s trying to make it last, attempting to refocus.
“I’m… Ran, I’m gonna come,” I whimper. He moves his lips to mine, kissing me deeply as I come undone beneath his touch, losing all control, all sense of time and space, and my hips buck against Ronan with each wave of pleasure coursing through my hot, sweaty body. He swallows my moans, my sounds, tongue stroking, hips thrusting. He tenses, his muscles wound tight, coiling and I know he’s there as his breath stutters to a momentary halt, his body on the cusp of exploding with pleasure.
“Fuck, baby,” he mutters against my mouth, unable to let it build any longer, and with one last thrust, he loses himself and joins me in nirvana.