Chapter 12 #3
“It’s all about patience and relaxation.” I worked myself longer before I added a second finger, biting my lip at the stretch. “You start slow, giving your body time to adjust.”
Ryker stared transfixed, his breathing shallow as he observed with rapt attention. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
“There’s pressure at first, but it becomes pleasure pretty quickly when you know what you’re doing.” I twisted my wrist, hitting a spot that made my breath hitch. “And I definitely know what I’m doing.”
His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I can see that.”
“The key is plenty of lube,” I continued, adding more to my fingers before pressing a third inside. “And communication. Telling your partner what feels good, what doesn’t.”
The atmosphere in the room had shifted, charged with a new tension. Ryker’s earlier jokes had given way to intense focus, his eyes never leaving my movements. “How do you know when you’re ready?”
I smiled, scissoring my fingers to demonstrate. “When there’s stretch but no pain. When your body wants more instead of less.” I removed my fingers and grabbed the condom with my clean hand, holding it out to him with a suggestive smile.
Ryker stared at the foil packet in my hand before taking it. “I never expected to relive my experience as a virgin on prom night,” he joked. “Except I’m not wearing a rented tux, and my mom isn’t taking awkward photos downstairs.”
When he fumbled with the packaging, he tore open the condom with his teeth instead. He immediately realized his mistake and scrunched up his face as he spat out a tiny piece of foil. “But apparently still making rookie mistakes.”
I snorted in amusement at his dilemma, which eased some of the tension. “Trust me, this will be much better than prom night.”
He finally opened the condom and rolled it on with shaking hands. I used the lube again, applying a generous amount to his length, enjoying the way his breath caught as I stroked him.
I spread my legs farther apart, making a welcoming space for Ryker between them. His eyes traveled over my body with a mixture of desire and uncertainty, his hands resting on my thighs.
“Come here,” I encouraged, gesturing for him to move closer.
He settled between my legs, his weight a delicious pressure against me. But he hesitated, his eyes meeting mine with that adorable combination of eagerness and apprehension.
“It’s not that much different from being with a woman,” I reassured him, running my hands up his arms. “More an alternative angle of approach.”
He laughed, the sound strained. “I know I’m a viola compared to your massive cello,” he said, glancing down between us, “but I’m still worried I might hurt you.”
“Trust me, snookums, you won’t.” I lifted my hips, encouraging him to continue. “I’ve got this. And so do you.”
Ryker took a deep breath, nodding as he lined himself up. The initial pressure made me inhale sharply. I was out of practice with being penetrated by a partner.
He froze. “Shit, did I hurt you?”
His concern was so sweet. “No, but it’s been a while since I’ve been on this end. I’m fine. Keep going.” The stretch and slight burn as he eased into me an inch at a time was a welcome sensation, one I’d almost forgotten how much I enjoyed.
“Holy fuck,” Ryker breathed, his eyes wide as he paused halfway in. “You’re so tight.”
I grinned up at him, adjusting my position to take him deeper. “Wait until you move.”
He pushed forward with excruciating slowness until he was fully seated inside me. His breathing grew ragged, his expression one of concentration as he held himself still.
“You okay?” he asked, searching my face.
“More than okay,” I assured him, wrapping my legs around his waist. “But you can move now. I promise I won’t break.”
Ryker started with tiny, cautious thrusts, barely moving at all. I clenched my muscles, drawing a startled gasp from his lips.
“Come on,” I urged, gripping his shoulders. “I need more than that.”
His pace faltered for a moment before he found it again, his movements becoming more purposeful. The look of concentration on his face was adorable, with his brows furrowed and lower lip caught between his teeth as he focused on making it an enjoyable experience for me.
“That’s it,” I encouraged, my voice rougher than before. “You’re doing great.”
As Ryker found his rhythm, I lost myself in the sensation of finally being with him like this. After three years of wanting, of dreaming, the reality of him inside me was overwhelming. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through my body, but it was his look of wonder that undid me.
His confidence bloomed under my praise. His hips, once cautious, now drove into me with purpose. The rhythm shifted from a question to a statement. It wasn’t the hesitant Ryker from ten minutes ago; it was a man discovering a new kind of power. The focused intensity in his eyes was intoxicating.
“Fuck,” I gasped as he hit a sensitive spot. “Right there.”
Ryker’s eyes lit up at my reaction, and he angled his hips to nail that same area again. And again. “Harley,” he panted, his movements growing more erratic. “You feel amazing.”
I reached up to cup his face, pulling him down for a kiss that was all heat and need. “So do you,” I murmured against his lips. “Better than I ever imagined.”
And I had imagined this moment countless times over the years.
While in the shower, late at night in my bed, even once during a boring lecture when Ryker had been sitting next to me, absently chewing on his pen cap.
But none of my fantasies compared to the reality of having him moving inside me, his body pressed against mine, his breath hot against my skin.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this. Or how good it feels.”
My laughter morphed into a moan as he thrust deeper. “Believe it, snookums. This is real.”
His movements grew more confident with each rock of his hips, his earlier caution forgotten as he surrendered to the sensations. The weight of him, the heat of him, the scent of him, it was everything I’d wanted for so long.
“Don’t hold back,” I urged, digging my fingers into his shoulders. “I want all of you.”
Ryker groaned, his hips snapping forward with new intensity. A subtle tilt hit the exact intersection of “too much” and “not enough,” causing my body to rewrite its understanding of pleasure in real time. It was too much and not enough, all at once.
“Like that?” he asked, a hint of smugness in his voice as he repeated the motion.
“Perfect. See? You’re a natural.”
He laughed breathlessly, leaning down to press his forehead against mine. “I have a good teacher.”
The intimacy of the gesture, combined with the relentless pleasure of his movements, made my chest tighten with emotion. This wasn’t just sex. It was Ryker, finally letting go of his reservations, finally allowing himself to want me the way I’d always wanted him.
“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” I admitted in a rare show of sentimentality, the words escaping before I could stop them.
“I think I’ve wanted you, too,” he confessed. “But I didn’t know how to admit it.”
His honesty pushed me closer to the edge. What a delight to discover after three years of hypotheticals, the empirical evidence proved that patience wasn’t just a virtue, but a damn good investment strategy when it came to Ryker.