Chapter 14 #3
His confusion is genuine, not judgmental, but I want to disappear all the same.
I talk a big game in my posts about sex and the orgasm gap, but I’m nothing if not a timid hypocrite in my personal sex life.
I’m all for people asking for what they want in bed, but I’ve always been so hung up on pleasing the other person, I don’t really know what I’d ask for.
I don’t know what I need to get there with another person.
I’ve never allowed myself to be vulnerable enough to explore that.
“I-I think I’d like it a little bit rough,” I manage to say, staring at the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. His fingers flex into my thighs, breathing frayed.
“Rough how?” he asks in a low rumble before placing a quick, sharp bite to my breast.
“Like that,” I gasp out.
“How else?” When I don’t immediately speak, he bites me again, then soothes the area with a decadent lick of his tongue, ripping another gasp from me.
“I… I don’t… I mean… This isn’t… I haven’t…” He drags his teeth to my nipple, gently nipping at the peak before sucking it deep into his mouth. My vision blurs.
“You haven’t what, Kitten?” he whispers.
I groan in response, wriggling closer, holding his head to my chest and silently begging him to do it again.
Rylie pulls back instead, color flagging his cheeks, his mouth slack and wet. “Use your words or I’m stopping.”
The sound I let out is so pathetically needy I want to melt into the mattress, but Rylie grins, dipping his head to my throat with a restrained laugh. I’d push him away to save some of my dignity if his weight didn’t feel so damn good on top of me. I hold him closer instead.
“I haven’t asked anybody for it rough before so I don’t know what I like or how much,” I say in a rush.
I keep going, knowing if I stop I’ll never fess up.
“All the sex I’ve had is bland and boring and I’m so deep in my own head being worried about making it good for the other person that I’ve never bothered to ask for what I want instead. ”
Every relationship I’ve been in, my priority is always to please the other person any way I can, including sex.
In my teens and early twenties I devoured every glossy magazine article I could find about what moves I could do to make a man feel good.
My desperation to please someone enough to get them to stick around was my only tangible desire.
Why would I bother figuring out my own needs when I was too tied-up figuring out how to make it good for the other person?
Rylie pulls against my grip like he wants to look at me, but I hold him tight against my body. This is easier to say to the ceiling than to his earnest, hungry eyes. “But if we only have tonight, I might as well make sure you don’t fuck it up.”
Rylie laughs, a tiny puff of hot air against my skin that sends a shiver rushing through me.
“Tell me more of what you think you want,” he coaxes, turning his head so his cheek nuzzles against my breast, the sharp stubble making me arch against him.
“I want to hear it all.” His fingers trace a lazy path over my rib cage, across my stomach, down my thigh to the back of my knee, then reverses the movement.
It’s a soft touch, not desperate or overtly sexual, but it lights me on fire, my legs falling open a bit more.
“I want you to keep touching me,” I choke out.
Rylie laughs again. “That’s a given, sweetheart. You feel too good to stop.”
A broken groan falls out of me, my body bucking beneath him, and I bite my lip.
Rylie pulls back, eyes roving over me until they glint with knowing, his dimple popping out as he smiles. “Do you like that, Eva? Do you like me telling you how fucking perfect you are?”
Another gasp betrays me, every cell in my body sparking to life under the coarse rumble of his words.
Rylie’s grin is downright sinful, and my heart pounds in my chest as he leans to my ear, lips ghosting across my cheeks along the way.
“You do. You like it. Now keep being a good girl and tell me how rough you want me to be with this beautiful fucking body of yours. I’ll give you anything you want, you just have to ask. ” He bites the lobe and my back bows.
“Jesus fucking Christ, please just touch me,” I nearly scream, grabbing his gentle, roving hand and thrusting it between my legs.
The pressure soothes me for a second, but only one, because Rylie snatches his touch away, gripping my hip instead. Quick like a bullet he’s up on his knees, using them to force my legs wider as his other hand grabs my inner thigh then hooks behind my knee, spreading me for him.
He stares for a moment, then licks his lips, eyes tracing up my torso to lock with mine. “I’m starving, baby. Let me taste you instead.”
I garble out something close to please , my head falling back. Rylie reaches past me, snatching a pillow from the top of the bed.
“Lift your hips, beautiful,” he says gruffly, already raising them for me as he slides the pillow beneath. I find some semblance of strength in my rapidly spiraling body to prop myself up on my elbows, watching as he repositions himself between my legs.
“God, you’re fucking pretty,” he growls as he leans forward, draping both of my thighs over his shoulders in the process. “So fucking wet and needy and soft. I’ve dreamed about you for years, but none of my memories did you justice.”
Before the thought can gain purchase, his mouth is on me, tongue making a dirty, desperate swipe up to my clit.
I shudder, whimpering at the shockwave it sends through me, a sensation so intense my thighs try to close around him.
My desperation doesn’t faze him. He makes another leisurely swipe.
Then another. Taking his time, tracing every inch of me, circling my entrance then dipping in, lavishing his way up to my clit.
“You taste even better than I imagined,” he says against me, more vibrations than voice.
His breathing is almost violent, the vault of his rib cage expanding against my thighs with every inhale.
He focuses on my clit, eyes meeting mine over the planes of my body as he catalogs every reaction.
What pressure makes me writhe and claw at the sheets, the suction that makes me cry out as my thighs tremble against his face, the merciless rhythm of his tongue that has me babbling out his name in desperate pleas, tears gathering at the corners of my eyes as sharp pleasure builds in my pelvis.
Rylie pulls back for air, curling his fingers inside me in a way that makes me whimper.
“That’s it. Look how fucking good you’re taking it. So perfect.” His words are muffled, my pussy grinding against him in my wrecked desperation. “Let me hear how badly you want it.”
He puts his mouth back to me, dragging his head side to side so his stubble scratches along the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, and incoherent words pour out of me, voice a shout as need turns me inside out, mindless and desperate for release.
Rylie makes a triumphant noise between my legs, rewarding me with more rhythmic curls of his fingers.
It’s never been like this before. I’ve never been like this before—thrashing and crying and wild with the need to come, not a moment of thought if he’s enjoying himself because I fucking know he is.
He’s grunting in pleasure as he tastes me, shoulder muscles bunched between my legs, hips thrusting against the mattress because he’s so out of his mind with it too.
He builds me up higher and higher, my cries fractured, my thighs clamped tight against his head as he works me, entire body shaking so hard the headboard rattles against the wall as a feeling so intense that it’s almost painful rushes through me.
“Fuck. Fuck. Don’t stop. I’m coming. Don’t stop.”
He doesn’t, keeping that perfect rhythm, that matching movement of his fingers, those delighted sounds of need as he takes me there. Wave after wave crashes through me, and I continue to tremble, tears slipping down my cheeks at the endless release of it.
I pull his hair when I become too sensitive to handle any more, and he pulls back, mouth slick, eyes glazed. He kisses my thighs like he can’t keep his lips off me, and I whimper at the soft sensation.
My breathing gets only a degree below ragged when he speaks, eyes locking with mine over my belly. “Can you give me another one, beautiful?” he asks, voice coaxing, fingers demanding as he pumps them into me at an angle that’s just fucking right.
My hips buck, a string of curse words pouring out of me at the sensation. “I’m not sure if I can,” I pant, needing him to take mercy. Needing him to keep going.
“I am.” His voice drips with confidence. It speaks volumes to how good that orgasm was that I don’t suffocate him with my thighs right now out of annoyance.
But then he’s making up for his cockiness—or, more like proving its merit—his tongue back on me, softer this time, almost gentle. Almost.
There’s something so dirty and delicious about the way he devours me. He grunts praise between my thighs— sweet and greedy and fucking perfect —and it isn’t long until I’m right at that edge again, sweating and swearing and begging Rylie to let me come against his mouth.
“ Holyfuckingshit ” is the only coherent thing I manage to garble out as Rylie kisses his way back up my body, my muscles still twitching with the aftershocks. “You didn’t know how to do that last time.”
He laughs as he stretches out next to me.
I somehow find the strength to swivel my head to look at him.
“I’m a big believer in character growth,” he says, reaching out to tuck a damp lock of my hair behind my ear.
“And despite your unnecessary warning earlier, you make it very easy to be very good to.”