Chapter 7 - Savannah
He just made me come with his mouth and fingers.
What the actual fuck.
I'm lying on his bed, my whole body still trembling with aftershocks, trying to process what just happened. The intensity of it. The way he touched me like he had all the time in the world. Like my pleasure was the only thing that mattered.
Derek never made me come. Not once in three years.
Half the time he didn't even try. He just did what he wanted and rolled over when he was finished.
The other half, he'd make a halfhearted attempt and then get frustrated when I couldn't get there fast enough, like my body was deliberately defying him.
I learned to fake it. Learned to make the right sounds at the right times so he'd be satisfied and leave me alone.
But Ryan… He didn't need me to fake anything. He worked me over like he was learning a language, paying attention to every sound I made, every movement, every gasp. And when I came, it was real. So fucking real I almost blacked out from the intensity.
And now he's lying next to me saying he wants to make me come at least three more times tonight.
Three. More. Times.
I didn't even know that was possible.
He's watching me with those sharp blue eyes, his hand tracing lazy patterns on my hip. His face is still wet from me, from being buried between my thighs, and he doesn't seem the least bit bothered by it.
"You okay?" he asks quietly.
"I'm..." I laugh, because I don't have words for what I am. "I'm better than okay. That was incredible."
"Good." He leans in and kisses me, and I can taste myself on his lips. It should be weird but it's not. It's hot. Evidence of what he just did to me. "We're just getting started."
Something shifts in me at those words. Some combination of need and want and the realization that I'm allowed to have this. Allowed to take what I want instead of just accepting what I'm given.
And what I want right now is to see his cock. To taste him the way he just tasted me. To make him feel as good as he just made me feel.
I sit up, ignoring the slight ache in my feet, and look down at him. He's still wearing his jeans and nothing else, while I'm completely naked. That needs to change.
"Don't move," I tell him.
His eyebrow raises. "What are you—"
"Just don't move."
I reach for the button of his jeans. My hands are shaking slightly but I manage to get it undone, then the zipper. I can see the outline of his cock through his black briefs, thick and hard and straining against the fabric.
Holy fuck, he's big.
Bigger than Derek by a significant margin. The outline alone is intimidating, but also exciting in a way that makes my still-sensitive pussy throb with anticipation.
I hook my fingers in the waistband of his jeans and start pulling them down. He lifts his hips to help and I manage to get them past his thighs. The briefs are doing absolutely nothing to hide how turned on he is. I can see every detail: the thick shaft and the flared head.
I run my hand over him through the fabric. He hisses and his hips jerk slightly.
"Fuck," he breathes.
I do it again, wrapping my hand around him as much as I can through the briefs, feeling him throb under my palm. He's so hard, so hot, and I desperately want to see him.
But before I can reach for the waistband of his briefs, he does it himself. Grabs them and shoves them down, freeing his cock.
Oh my God.
He's beautiful. Thick and long with veins running along the shaft and a pink head that's already glistening with precum. He wraps his hand around himself, gripping tight at the base, and strokes once, twice.
I watch, mesmerized, as he touches himself. As he shows me exactly what he likes, the firm grip, the slow stroke from base to tip, the way his thumb swipes over the head on every pass.
"Come here," he says, his voice rough.
I lean down, my face level with his cock. The pink head is right there, right in front of my mouth, and I can smell him, musky and utterly intoxicating. I wrap my lips around just the tip, sucking gently, tasting the salt of his precum.
"Fuck," he groans, his head tilting back against the pillow. "Don't stop."
I don't. I take him deeper, working my tongue around the head, learning the shape of him. He tastes good, better than I expected. Better than Derek ever did.
I take him deeper, relaxing my jaw, trying to fit as much of him as I can. He's big enough that it's a challenge, but I'm determined. And then I notice something that makes my chest tight with emotion:
He's not forcing my head down.
Derek always did. Would grab my hair and push, sometimes hard enough to make me gag, and then get annoyed when I couldn't take it. Made me feel like I was failing at something I should naturally be good at.
But Ryan isn't touching my head at all. His hands are fisted in the sheets on either side of his body, like he's physically restraining himself from reaching for me. Letting me control the pace, the depth, everything.
For the first time in my life, I have complete control during a blow job.
The realization is intoxicating. Empowering. It makes me want to be better, to do more, to show him exactly what I can do when I'm not scared of being hurt.
I take him deeper, working my tongue along the underside of his shaft where I can feel the thick vein pulsing. I use every trick I know: the suction, the tongue work, the slight scrape of teeth that some guys like.
He's making sounds now. Low groans and muttered curses that tell me I'm doing it right. I pull back to catch my breath and stroke him with my hand, keeping the stimulation going. His cock is slick now, wet from my mouth, and my hand glides easily.
"You're so fucking good at that," he says roughly. "So fucking good, baby."
Baby. He called me baby. Not in the condescending way Derek did, but like it's an endearment. Like I'm precious to him.
I take him back in my mouth, determined to go deeper this time. I relax my throat and push down, taking him as far as I can. The head hits the back of my throat and I fight the urge to gag, breathing through my nose, holding there for a moment before pulling back.
"Holy fuck." His voice is strained. "You just—fuck, Savannah."
I do it again. And again. Each time going a little deeper, a little longer, until I'm deepthroating his cock with a proficiency that surprises even me.
This is the cock that's going to be inside me in a few minutes. The cock that's going to stretch me and fill me and fuck me until I forget my own name.
The thought makes me moan around him, the vibration making him curse.
"Stop," he says suddenly. "Fuck, baby, you need to stop or I'm gonna come."
I pull off reluctantly, wiping my mouth. "I want you to come."
"Not in your mouth. Not the first time." He sits up and cups my face, kissing me hard. "I need to be inside you. Need to feel you."
Yes. God, yes.
"I need you too," I whisper against his mouth.
He pulls away and kicks off his jeans and briefs completely, then he's back, pressing me down into the mattress. His body covers mine and I can feel his cock, hot and hard, pressed against my stomach.
"You sure about this?" he asks. "We can stop right now if—"
"I don't want to stop. I want you inside me. Please."
He positions himself between my thighs, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. He pushes in slowly, so slowly, giving me time to adjust to his size. I'm wet enough that he slides in easily despite how thick he is, but there's still a stretch.
"Breathe," he reminds me. "Just breathe."
I do. And he keeps pushing, inch by inch, until he's fully seated inside me. We both groan at the sensation.
"Fuck, you're tight," he breathes. "So fucking tight and perfect. And I can feel everything."
He stays still for a moment, letting me adjust. I can feel every inch of him, stretching me, filling me in a way I've never been filled before. I can feel the slight throb of his cock, every ridge and vein.
"Move," I finally say. "Please move."
He pulls back and thrusts in again, setting a slow, steady rhythm. Each thrust is measured like he's paying attention to every reaction I have.
"Good?" he asks.
"So good. Harder. Please, I need more."
He grips my hips and increases the pace, fucking me harder now. The bed creaks under us and I don't care. Don't care about anything except the way he feels inside me, the way his body moves against mine, the way he's looking at me like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
Then his hands move up, finding my breasts. He grips them, squeezing and kneading, his thumbs brushing over my nipples.
"These tits," he groans. "Fuck, I could spend hours just playing with these perfect fucking tits."
His grip is firm, possessive, and it sends sparks of pleasure straight to my core. He pinches my nipples and I cry out, arching into his touch.
"You like that?" he asks. "Like having your tits played with while I fuck you?"
"Yes," I gasp. "God, yes."
He leans down and takes one nipple in his mouth while still thrusting, still gripping my other breast. The dual sensation is overwhelming. His cock stretching me, his mouth on my breast, his hand squeezing and kneading.
"Ryan," I moan. "I'm close. I'm so close."
"Yeah? You gonna come all over my cock?" He bites down gently on my nipple and I nearly scream. "Come for me, baby. I want to feel it."
My pussy clamps down around him, my whole body shaking with the force of it. I can feel myself gushing around his cock, making everything wetter, slicker.
"Fuck," he groans. "That's it. That's my good girl. You feel so fucking good when you come."
Before I can recover, he pulls out and flips me over onto my stomach.
"On your knees," he orders.
I get up on my hands and knees, my body still trembling from the orgasm. He positions himself behind me, running his hands over my ass, squeezing and kneading.
"You have no idea how long I've been thinking about fucking you like this," he says. "Bent over. I want your perfect ass in the air."
He lines himself up and thrusts in hard. The angle is different like this. It’s deeper and more intense. I can feel him hitting spots that have never been touched before.
"Oh God," I moan into the pillow.
"You like that? Like being fucked from behind?"
"Yes. Fuck, yes."
He sets a punishing pace, gripping my hips hard enough to leave marks. One hand slides up my back and tangles in my hair, pulling just hard enough to arch my back more, to make me take him even deeper.
"Such a good girl," he murmurs in my ear, leaning over me. "Taking my cock so well. You were made for this, weren't you? Made to be fucked like this."
His words are filthy, possessive, and they make me clench around him. He feels it and groans.
"Fuck, you like when I talk dirty to you?" He pulls my hair harder, forcing my head back. "You like being told what a good girl you are for me?"
"Yes," I gasp. "God, yes."
"That's my girl." He releases my hair and grips my hips with both hands again, slamming into me harder. "This pussy is mine now. You understand? Mine to fuck, mine to fill, mine to make come whenever I want."
The possessiveness in his voice should probably scare me, but it doesn't. It makes me feel wanted. Claimed. His.
"Yours," I moan. "I'm yours."
"Damn right you are." His thrusts become erratic, less controlled. "Fuck, I'm close. I'm gonna come so fucking deep inside you. Gonna fill this pussy up."
"Please," I beg. "I want it. Want to feel you come inside me."
That's all it takes. He slams in deep and holds there, groaning as he comes. I can feel it. The hot spurts of his release, the way his cock pulses and throbs inside me. He's coming so much, more than I expected, and I can feel it filling me up, some of it already leaking out around his cock.
"Fuck," he gasps. "Fuck, Savannah. You feel so fucking good."
He stays buried inside me for a long moment, both of us trying to catch our breath. His hands are gentle now, running soothingly over my back and hips.
Finally, he pulls out. I can feel his cum dripping out of me, warm and wet, running down my thighs.
He collapses next to me on the bed and pulls me against his chest.
"Holy fuck," I breathe.
He laughs, his chest rumbling under my cheek. "Yeah. That about sums it up."
We lie there in silence for a few minutes, just breathing together. His hand is running through my hair, gentle and soothing.
"You okay?" he finally asks. "Nothing hurt? Nothing was too much?"
"I'm perfect. That was... I don't even have words for what that was."
"Good." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "You need to clean up?"
"Probably. But I don't want to move yet."
"We've got time." His arms tighten around me. "Just so you know, I’ll want more tonight."
I laugh. "You're insane."
"Maybe. But I told you, you deserve to feel good. And I'm gonna make sure you do."
I snuggle closer to him, feeling safer and more content than I have in years. I can feel his cum still leaking out of me, marking me as his, and something about that feels right.
"Thank you," I whisper.
"For what?"
"For this. For being gentle when you needed to be and rough when I wanted you to be. For making me feel..." I trail off, not sure how to articulate it.
"Feel what?"
"Wanted. Desired. Like I matter."
His arms tighten around me. "You do matter. And you are wanted. Make no mistake about that."
I believe him. For the first time in a long time, I actually believe someone when they tell me I matter.
"Ryan?"
"Yeah?"
"What happens tomorrow? When we have to face reality?"
He's quiet for a moment. "Tomorrow we deal with Pope and the club. We figure out a plan to keep you safe. We make sure Derek never gets near you again."
"And after that?"
"After that, we take it one day at a time. But Savannah?" He tilts my face up so I'm looking at him. "I meant what I said earlier. I'm not leaving. Not unless you tell me to."
"I'm not going to tell you to."
"Good. Because I'm not done with you yet. Not even close."
He kisses me again, slower this time, and I can already feel him getting hard again against my thigh.
Round two is definitely happening soon.
And I'm absolutely not complaining.