Chapter 11
Elle
I’m sitting in Ranger’s truck for the five-minute ride to my place. He hasn’t said a word, but his hands are speaking volumes. Gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles have turned white and I’m almost afraid he’s going to pull the whole damn thing out of the truck.
I don’t know why we’re doing this. It’s obvious that it’s just the idea of being with him I like. And he hates me. Yet here I am, sitting in the passenger side of his truck, letting him drive me to my apartment, where, if there’s a God, he will walk me to the door, walk inside with me, and get naked. Lord, let him get naked. Soon. Until two weeks ago, it had been months since another man had touched me, and that touch absolutely doesn’t compare to Ranger’s.
“We don’t have to do this is you don’t want to,” I quietly say, giving him the out I hope he doesn’t take.
“Shhh.”
“Did you just…” I stop talking when his eyes cut to me, silencing me.
“Stop talking,” he growls at me.
“Well, maybe I don’t want to do this with you anymore. Where is the guy from the bar ten minutes ago who wanted to try being in the same room without wanting to kill me?”
“It was kiss, kill, and fuck, Tink.” He pulls out the horrid nickname. “Get it right.”
“Okay, asshole.”
“Can you seriously stop talking, ever?”
“Is it my voice that annoys you or what I say?” I ask, really wanting to know.
“Your voice,” he quietly admits.
“And on that note, why don’t you just drop me off?”
He lets out a sigh that holds years of annoyance before he stomps on the breaks in the middle of the road, throws the truck in park, and finally looks at me. His breathing is ragged, his eyes blazing with the heat in them.
“I don’t find your voice annoying, okay?” he asks.
“Then what is it?”
“It’s that every time you open your mouth, my dick goes hard.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh. My dick turns into a fucking steel pipe. And I’m trying to drive and not get us killed, which is hard to do when you have an appendage trying to hammer its way out of your fucking pants, alright?”
“Oh,” I whisper.
Finally, I see the smirk make an appearance. “So if you want me to drop you off and not come in, you have about two blocks to decide, and I’ll be cool with whatever that choice is. But for the love of everything holy, can you please not talk so I can get us there in one piece?”
I motion zipping my lips closed and tossing the key, waving my hand to the road in front of us, and turn my head to the window. No words from me until we’re inside. Where he will hopefully strip off all of my clothes before pounding me into next week.
Thankfully, it’s a short drive to the apartments. Once he’s parked in my driveway, the look he gives me tells me to stay put. He gets out, slamming his door closed and crossing in front of the truck to my side. He opens my door for me like a fucking gentleman. Who the hell is this guy?
“Thanks.”
We walk up the couple of stairs to the landing and I unlock the door and walk inside, flipping a light switch on. The door behind me stands open for him to come in or not. I don’t turn around, but I hear the door close and the lock turn. I’m standing in the middle of the living room with my arms at my sides, having dropped my bag on the floor by the couch. I refuse to turn and look at him. To make the first move. I’ve made my intentions clear. I want this. Part of me feels like I need this. But it has to be his decision.
I feel him at my back, his body heat radiating out from his chest. I hear his breathing and can imagine him standing with his hands in fists, not sure what to do.
“You know this changes nothing. I am not and will never be what you need.”
“I know,” I whisper back.
“There can’t be any emotions tied up in this for either of us. Do you understand that?”
“I understand,” I tell him, my voice still quiet, afraid to break the spell we’re both under.
I feel his breath on my neck as he leans in and asks with a raspy voice, “What do you want?”
“I don’t want to think. I just want to feel.”
“We can make that happen.”
He places a kiss on my neck and runs his hands up my arms, making me shiver and goosebumps pop up.
“You need to understand that I am the one in charge here.”
My breath catches at that declaration—that demand. I don’t know how he knows, but I love when a man takes charge. My reaction must mean something to him. I look up in time to see his lips tip up into a small smile.
“Elle, get naked. Now.”
My back still to him, I undo my jeans and slide them down my legs, kicking them off along with my shoes and socks. I lift my shirt and raise it over my head, letting it fall to the floor. I’m down to just my bra and panties. I hear his intake of breath. His fingers lightly pass over where I know the ink is on my back.
“Stunning,” he quietly states. Almost reverently.
“Thanks. Barbie did the ink.”
“Who did the artwork?”
“I did.”
I hear him exhale a gust of breath as he continues to stare. I can feel his eyes on my skin, but I need more.
“Ranger, please,” I plead. “Please touch me.”
“You’re not naked yet.”
I reach behind me and unhook my bra, finally looking over my shoulder. “Neither are you.”
“I’ll get there,” he says with a promise in his voice, his eyes trailing my bra straps as they fall from my shoulders to be added to the pile on the floor.
I hook my thumbs into my panties, and he stops me.
“Not yet. You take those down now and this will be over way too fast, and I want to take my time with you tonight.”
I turn around to face him, letting him get his fill. His eyes don’t know where to look, but they are devouring me. He finally—finally—reaches for me and pulls me against him, my nipples rubbing against his t-shirt. The motion sending jolts of electricity straight to my core. If I didn’t have my panties on, I feel like I’d be making a mess of my inner thighs.
Slowly, his hand raises, and he drags his knuckles down my breast, across my nipple. The already hard peaks strain even more. When he leans forward and sucks my breast into his mouth, I can’t stop the moan that escapes me. I don’t have big tits, but Ranger doesn’t seem to mind. He’s sucking and tonguing one breast while his hand is massaging and tweaking the other. The combination of feelings has me careening toward the edge of a climax already. I’ve only read about people orgasming from nipple play, and as much as I want him to keep going, I want more.
Switching breasts with his mouth, he runs his hands up and down my torso, around my back, down to my ass, which he cups in his large hands and squeezes. His hands slip below the waistband of my panties, pulling them down as he continues to knead and squeeze my flesh. He lowers himself onto his knees in front of me and only then do I realize what his intention is.
“Ranger, you don’t have to,” I try to assure him.
“I’m in charge, Tink. And we will do whatever the fuck I want until you tell me to stop. And right now, I want to taste you. Understand?”
He looks up at me from under his long lashes, waiting for my reply. “I understand.”
Leaning forward, he takes a breath, inhaling my scent. The action causes my legs to shake. There is no way I’ll be able to stay standing with the things this man is doing to me. He runs his nose over my mound, humming his approval. And when his tongue slips through my slit, my knees do buckle. I don’t fall though, because his hands are there to catch me and hold me exactly where he wants me, kneading my ass as he pulls me in close. When he sucks my clit between his lips, I almost combust right there. But what he does next causes me to see stars. His pinky runs the length of my slit, gathering up my wetness and stops at my asshole. He sucks my clit harder, applying pressure to the ring of muscles.
“Ranger,” I try to warn. Unfortunately, it comes out breathy and oh, fuck, I’m turned on.
He hums, the vibrations causing my core to spasm.
“Oh, fuck,” I grit out. “I’m going to come.”
Instead of easing off, he doubles his efforts, sliding his pinky in my ass easily, moving his mouth from my clit to my opening and spearing me with his tongue. He’s attacking my pussy with the vigor of a starved man. He’s eating me out like I’m his last meal. His tongue and pinky working in tandem to make me shatter.
“Ahhhh,” I cry out as my inner walls ripple and my muscles lock up. “Yes, yes, yes,” I chant as the orgasm washes through me, over me, and out from me. I throw back my head and squeeze my eyes shut, the colors bursting behind the lids.
He doesn’t stop until he’s wrung every bit of my orgasm from me. And even then, when I’m shaking and twitching from the sensations, he keeps going. I’m not aware of my surroundings anymore. I feel like I’m floating, but I can’t open my eyes to find out.
Only when I feel the cushions of the couch under me do I realize I’ve moved. I open my eyes enough to see Ranger standing over me, removing his clothes quickly and efficiently. His eyes are on my pussy, the look in them one of a madman who has found the prize. When he finally looks away, he meets my eyes. Desire warring with something that could be fear hidden in the depths of the brown.
“I’m going to take you now. Hard.”
“Please,” I beg. I’ve never been a beggar when it comes to sex, but something about this man makes me want to get on my knees and plead for his touch.
“Condom?” he asks.
I shake my head. We had this discussion. I want to feel him.
“Get on your knees and hold on, Tink,” he demands. His voice is husky and raw. Full of want.
Without question, I do what he tells me. He wants to take me hard, and I want to give him that. Once on my knees, my hands bracing myself on the armrests, I look over my shoulder to see the gloriously naked man standing behind me. He runs his fingers down my back again, his jaw slack. When he gets to my hips, he grips them, pulling me towards him. Taking one hand away and fisting his cock, he runs it through my wetness before lining it up and thrusting inside of me. When he bottoms out, he pauses and looks at me.
“Okay?”
“Perfect.”
That’s the only confirmation he needs, and he begins moving. He’s fulfilling my wish of pounding me into next week. His grip on my hips is hard and bruising, but it only adds to the sensations. The only noises are from our bodies slamming into each other. It’s almost violent, but there’s something poetic about it. It’s a physical release of our natural inclination to fight. That’s what this is. A fight. Only I’m not sure what we’re fighting about right now. My body certainly isn’t fighting. It’s fucking. And climbing back up before going over the peak again.
“So fucking tight,” he growls. “So wet.”
“Ranger,” I cry when he finds the spot inside that starts the crash. “Right there. Fuck!”
“Give it to me,” he demands. “Give it to me now!”
And like my body knows what he wants, I go over the edge one more time. His cock continues to thrust in and out. Long, hard strokes. Through my orgasm and right into another. Never in my life has this happened. I hear a loud keening and realize it’s me, crying out my release. When he roars my name, I’m there with him. In the moment, it’s just the two of us. And we don’t hate each other. And we aren’t hiding our feelings. We are one.
He collapses over my back, his arms wrapping around me, holding me to him. I close my eyes, and it’s many moments later I’m able to wrap my head around what just happened.