Chapter 39 Ryan
Ryan
I need to say something now. Something that doesn’t make me sound like a total dick.
I’ve started it now, and I have to see it through.
I have to tell her why I’m here and I have to do it soon, before my legs decide to take off, running away from the desire that’s been coursing through me ever since I first laid my hands on her skin, felt her heat.
“Why are you here, Ryan?” Christine reads my mind – or maybe she’s just reading what’s written in block capitals across my forehead.
She does it simply, clear and direct, just as she always is.
She doesn’t make excuses, doesn’t play games.
I’m the one who’s always bullshitting around, instead of just taking her hand and telling her…
“I wanted to be with you.”
Fuck, I actually said it.
“Are you trying to get me into bed?”
So direct again. She’ll eat me alive, I know she will: she’ll swallow everything whole then tear me to pieces.
“I don’t give a fuck about getting you in bed, Christine…” I tell her, massacring my own pride. “I’d even be happy to do it on the floor.”
Her expression changes, flushing every possible shade of red.
“I saw you in the crowd,” I continue, gathering all my courage. “And when I saw you there…I didn’t want to do anything but win that game, then come here with you.”
She smiles, cheekily. “So seeing me up there turned you on?” she teases.
And fuck – I like it.
I like the way she does it, and I like the effect it has on me.
“If you want to put it like that…” I say, approaching her across the sofa – and she doesn’t back away.
She stays there, her legs crossed, waiting for me to embarrass myself while I try to explain to her that I really fucking like her.
And I want her, like I never thought I could want anyone again in my life.
“It wasn’t just at the match. It’s… everything, Christine.”
“Everything?”
“Everything,” I repeat, hoping that she knows what I mean – because I have no idea how to explain it.
But my body does.
She nibbles at her lip and I grab her instinctively by the waist and pull her towards me. She lifts herself and sits down right onto my erection.
Oh, my God.
Her breath is on my lips, her hands running through my hair. My hands are squeezing her buttocks – my obsession since the very first day I laid eyes on them.
“What do you want from me, Ryan O’Connor? Because let’s face it, I don’t think I’m your type. Are you just looking for a bit of fun? A few fucks, no strings attached?”
“I don’t know what I’m looking for. All I know is that whatever it is, it’s right here.”
She looks at me for a few moments, her head tilted, then she smiles again, one corner of her mouth turned upwards.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I won’t last another second without putting my hands all over you.”
“Like… what?” she says, feigning innocence.
“Like you can’t wait for me to be inside you.”
She bites down on her lip again.
“You know, Ryan O’Connor, for someone who doesn’t like talking, you’re doing a bit too much of it at the moment.”
“I’ll stop then.”
“About time,” she teases, and I realise how happy I am in her company, at her house, with her body on mine – I’m even willing to hurt myself, just a little, hoping that it doesn’t hurt her too much.
I tighten my grip on her butt; my hands are buried under the waistband of her trousers, tracing along the lace of her underwear. Her skin is smooth under my fingers, and she tugs on my hair, looking for my mouth.
I know what she’s trying to do, but I can’t. Not yet. Not now.
I’m not ready.
My hands climb up her back, sliding around to the front, desperate to stop her in her tracks.
“Fuck,” I breathe, as my hands reach her bare breasts.
The longing to touch her is suffocating me – almost as much as the longing to be inside her, right now.
Christine lets go of my hair and grabs my shirt, pulling it over my head and tossing it to the floor. She lets her eyes slide over my bare chest, and then her hands are all over me.
She’s touching me.
And I don’t want her to stop.
Her fingers are tracing along the lines of my abs, lightly but thoroughly. I watch her as she writes a new chapter onto my skin, one that’ll be impossible to forget. One that will always stay imprinted onto my body.
“Fuck,” she says, and we both start to laugh.
My God, what is this woman?
The laughter slowly dies down and, before I can do anything, Christine lifts off her top, which follows mine onto the floor.
I look at her eyes, her mouth, her flushed face. Her chest, panting in an attempt to regain some oxygen. I throw myself onto her, delving my head into her neck in desperation. I inhale her skin, an uncontrollable excitement coursing through me.
I bury my head between her breasts and inhale again. The scent of a woman – a woman who I want desperately, right now – takes over me. I want my body to brush against every inch of her skin.
I take her breasts in my hands and bring them to my mouth, pinching a nipple between my fingers and circling it with my lips.
My tongue caresses her, sucking at her.
Fuck. I want more.
Christine grabs fistfuls of my hair and pulls my face into her skin.
She wants more, too.
I taste her, bite her, eat her.
I can’t bear it anymore.
I want her right now.
I turn over, laying her down quickly on the sofa and pinning her there with my body, pushing my erection between her legs.
I brush a hand between her thighs, sliding down into the waistband of her trousers.
“God, Christine…”
She arches her hips towards my hand, impatient to feel me inside her. I’m too far gone – I could never stop after just a taste.
I get up quickly, pulling her trousers down hungrily. I hurriedly unbutton my jeans and pull them just over my hips, as she watches me, her cheeks on fire and her eyes full of desire.
I bend over her, pushing her panties aside so that I can feel her with my dick.
“Ryan…do it now,” she begs me.
And that was all I needed to hear.
I push inside her, slowly. Christine scratches at my back with her nails, as I grab the arm of the sofa and thrust as deeply as I can. She wraps her legs around my waist, her nails digging into my flesh, as her pussy tightening around my cock.
Her heat, her desire.
Just her.
I keep pushing, losing control, blinded by my own desperation to have her, right now. To hear her moan and shout, to feel her lose herself underneath me, taken by my desire and my force.
Suddenly, I pull out of her, and she looks at me worriedly. I pant, short of breath, watching our bodies come together again; I delve into her, slowly, feeling every muscle in my body tremble. I throw my head back, closing my eyes. I’m already addicted to her.
I lower into her again, pulling out almost completely before plunging in as deeply as possible. Her body adapts perfectly to mine, as she abandons herself underneath me and welcomes me, every thrust bringing her closer to paradise.
“Ryan…” she sighs, her eyes closed, her hands groping for the arm of the chair behind her, helping her withstand my thrusts.
I grab her wrists and stop, suddenly.
“What…?”
“Do you want more?”
“Fuck yes.”
That’s all I wanted to hear.
I hold her still, sliding in and out of her over and over, spellbound by the sight of our bodies inside each other: hers, small and powerless underneath mine, strong and overbearing.
I watch her breasts, which rise with each thrust; her hair fanned out over the sofa; her cheeks on fire; her pussy, opening itself completely to me.
It’s an image which makes me afraid that I won’t be able to avoid exploding inside her in just a few seconds.
“Christine…” I tell her, breathing into her ear. “I want to hear you.”
“Oh, hell, yes,” she says, opening her eyes.
I keep her hands pinned above her head with one hand, the other massaging her clit until her body starts to tremble underneath mine.
I want to see her crumble.
“Ryan…” My name on her lips is so enticing that I almost break in two with a longing to feel her trembling in my mouth.
“Yes…”
“Now…”
I slide inside her again, as she watches my hand tormenting her. My dick is on the brink of exploding, spurred on by the sight of her pleasure.
Christine yells, jolted by the orgasm that flows from her body to mine, overpowering us both, leaving us breathless.
I fall onto her, resting my head between her soft breasts as she lets go of the sofa behind her.
“Oh my God…” she says, as soon as she gets her breath back.
I look up.
“Don’t you even think about leaving now,” she warns me, reminding me of our first encounter, and making me feel like a piece of shit.
“How long do we have before Evan comes home?”
“Have you not had enough yet?”
I smile at her, leaning into her ear. “I want you again,” I breathe into her skin.
I lift myself up, keeping her legs wrapped around me, and carry her upstairs. She throws her arms around my neck.
“Are you scared I’ll drop you?” I tease.
She shakes her head. “All these muscles have to be good for something, right?”
I laugh again. It’s like I can’t stop laughing, recently.
“You have no idea how useful they can be sometimes.”
“I’m not sure, but I think you’ve just showed me.”
“Fuck, yes,” I growl, grabbing onto her buttocks.
I head up the last few stairs and she points me to her bedroom. I barge open the door with my shoulder and throw her straight onto the bed, her body bouncing on the mattress.
“Now you just need a caveman’s club.”
I laugh as I approach the bed. I grab the waistband of her useless panties and throw them onto the floor.
“You’re overdressed, O’Connor. Show me what you’re hiding under there.”
I slide my jeans and my boxers to the floor.
“Oh shit,” she says.
“Mmm?”
“It’s better than I imagined.”
I laugh again as she sits up, holding her hand out to me. I take it and she pulls me in towards her.
She strokes my face, and leans in towards my lips.
Pain overwhelms me in an instant.
I put a finger between our mouths and close my eyes, sighing.
She stays there, silent for a few seconds, then speaks to me softly.
“They really hurt you, didn’t they?”
I don’t respond. I can’t.
“Hey,” she says, still stroking my face. I find the courage to open my eyes. “One step at a time, okay?”
I nod, trying to calm my emotions – because, right now, I could cry, or get up and leg it as far as I can. But neither of those reactions seem appropriate.
“Come here. I want to see if those muscles are real or if it’s just the alcohol talking.”
My mood lifts immediately.
“It’s all real. Totally, one hundred per cent real.”
“Just let me touch you and make sure.”