Chapter 47
47
MADDIE
F inally, I’m sharing a first with Rhys.
I can’t believe how good he feels inside me totally bare, how much closer I feel to him this way. With every thrust of his hips, my approaching release roars louder inside me, threatening to be so ferocious that it cracks the foundations reality.
I tilt my hips, and he goes along with my motion, rolling to his back so I can straddle him. I plant my palms on the solid planes of his chest and ride him, spearing myself over and over on his cock, feeling my inevitable climax gather strength inside me.
Rhys draws circles on my clit as I ride him, ratcheting up the pleasure. Flames lick through my veins when I find the perfect angle to rock my hips so that Rhys’s length hits me right where I need it.
“Rhys,” I whine. “It’s so good.”
“That’s right, baby,” he rasps, that word making my skin sizzle. “Ride my fucking cock.”
I slant my hips again, and something raw flashes in Rhys’s eyes.
In an instant, his demeanor becomes utterly feral. He grabs me and flips me over so that he’s on top of me. He starts thrusting with utter abandon, his grip on my hips firm as steel as he holds me in place.
His frenzied thrusts push me over the edge, and my climax roars through me. My back arches, my muscles pull tight, the walls of my pussy clench and pulse around Rhys’s hard length. The pleasure is so intense I feel like I could black out, my vision going splotchy and blurred beyond recognition.
Time loses meaning as an intensity of bliss I never thought possible rips through me. Through the roaring in my ears, I can hear a hoarse, strangled sound as Rhys collapses onto me, his cock spilling his release inside me.
Bliss fizzles in my veins as I come down from an orgasm that definitely rearranged my brain, and possibly recombined my DNA.
I can’t say how much time passes with Rhys sprawled over me, our bodies tangled together, both of us too weighed down with exhaustion and satisfaction to move a finger.
All I can say is that tangled together is exactly what to be with Rhys Callahan, always.
I’m so spent and sated that all I can do for a while is lay in a blissed daze, my cheek against Rhys’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing.
But finally, I gather up the strength to lift my head, find his gaze, and say, “I want to tell Lane.”
The drugged look in his eyes turns sober. He nods slowly, like his head is weighted down by thought.
“Yeah,” he says. “I guess we should.”
“I mean, we have to. Right?” Now that we’ve confessed how we feel for each other and agreed that we’re staying together as way more than friends, it’s not like it’s going to be possible to keep it from Lane. Because I can’t go back to hiding how I feel about Rhys. Definitely not to him, and not to anyone else, either.
I can feel a wave of tension roll through his body. He makes a sound of acknowledgment in his chest, but it’s far from enthusiastic.
“I mean, I’m sure Lane will be okay with it,” I say, though the sentence comes out too much like a question. “Let’s tell him when we get back to school next week.”
Why wouldn’t he be? Lane and Rhys have been friends practically their whole lives. Lane obviously knows Rhys is a good guy. He has to trust him.
I mean, I could understand Rhys’s trepidation about Lane finding out when we were just fooling around and hooking up. His best friend suddenly having sex with his sister in some kind of open-ended, no-strings-attached arrangement? Yeah, fine, that could raise red flags.
But now that Rhys and I are together? Now that we’ve admitted we love each other? How could Lane possibly have a problem with that?
What’s more, what right does he have to have a problem with that? None. This is my life and my decision, and my older brother doesn’t have a say in it.
“Yeah,” Rhys answers after several beats of silence, “I’m sure he will.”
When Rhys usually puts so much confidence behind his words, it’s impossible not to notice when it isn’t there.