Chapter 20 #4
I nodded, surprised by his perceptiveness. “Mostly. Getting cheated on in high school might seem like nothing now, but back then, it felt like the end of the world.”
“I can imagine,” Ryker said, his tone sympathetic.
“But hey,” I added quickly, not wanting to bring down the mood, “you don’t need to worry about that. I know you’d never betray me.”
The sincerity in my voice must have caught him off guard, because his expression turned serious. Without warning, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug.
I froze for a split second, surprised by the sudden display of affection, before melting into his embrace. I closed my eyes, savoring the comfort of his touch and the unspoken understanding between us.
“Thank you for trusting me,” he murmured against my shoulder.
I hugged him back, allowing myself this moment of vulnerability. “Always have, snookums. Always will.”
I glanced down at Ryker, still nestled against me after our shared laughter had subsided. His eyes were bright and his smile relaxed in a way I rarely got to see. I recognized an opportunity to introduce him to something new that might ease his anxiety about the physical side of our relationship.
“That’s enough trauma dumping for one day. How about I introduce you to intercrural sex?”
He grew suspicious. “You’re making shit up.”
“I swear it’s a real thing,” I insisted, placing my hand over my heart. “Scout’s honor.”
“Since when?” Ryker challenged, narrowing his eyes at me. “And you were never a scout.”
“It’s been a thing, at least since ancient Greece,” I explained with a grin. “And there are pornographic pictures of it on the sides of vases in museums to prove it.”
Ryker sighed in defeat. “I’ll probably regret asking, but what is it?”
I shifted to face him more directly, enjoying the way his gaze kept drifting to my bare chest despite his best efforts to maintain eye contact.
“It’s when one partner slides their cock between the other person’s thighs.
” I demonstrated with my hands, making a circle with one and pushing my finger through it.
“No anal penetration, just the friction of thighs pressed together.”
“This sounds like something you invented to make me feel better.” Ryker seemed skeptical, but I could see the wheels turning in his head.
“While I appreciate the compliment on my imagination, I promise it’s legitimate. And incredibly hot. Want to try?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Ryker nodded. “I guess we could give it a shot.”
“Perfect.” I guided him to lie on his side, facing away from me. “Just like this, with your legs together.”
Ryker complied, though his body remained tense. “This feels weird.”
“We haven’t even started yet.” I chuckled, reaching for the lube on the nightstand. “Give me a sec.”
I squeezed a generous amount into my palm, then reached between Ryker’s thighs to apply it liberally to the inside of both legs. He flinched at the cool sensation.
“This feels like a prank,” he muttered.
I positioned myself behind him, aligning my cock with the space between his thighs. “Trust me for five minutes. If you hate it, we’ll try something else.”
Ryker sighed. “Fine. But I’m skeptical that anything involving thighs can be sexy.”
“Challenge accepted,” I whispered against his ear, easing my cock between his thighs.
The sensation was incredible as the warm, slick pressure of his flesh surrounded me. I groaned appreciatively, wrapping my arm around his waist to pull him closer against me.
“Holy shit,” Ryker gasped as I moved. “You feel—fuck, you’re enormous. How is that thing ever going to fit in my ass?”
I established a gentle rhythm. “Don’t think about that right now. Focus on feeling good.”
I reached around and wrapped my hand around his cock, which was already hard. The angle was perfect. I could stroke him in time with my thrusts between his thighs, creating a synchronized rhythm that had us both breathing harder.
“Fuck,” Ryker moaned, his head falling back against my shoulder. “How does this feel so good when it’s just thighs?”
“It’s all about friction and pressure, snookums,” I murmured, nipping at his earlobe. “And being with the right person.”
I tightened my grip on his cock, twisting on the upstroke the way I’d learned he liked. His thighs clenched around me in response, drawing a deep groan from my throat.
“That’s it,” I encouraged, increasing my pace. “Squeeze your legs together more.”
Ryker complied, and the increased pressure was mind-blowing. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent as we moved together. There was something extra intimate about the position. I could feel every reaction of his body against mine.
“Harley,” Ryker gasped, his hand reaching back to grip my hip. “I’m getting close.”
“So am I,” I admitted, feeling the familiar tension building. “You feel amazing.”
Our bodies found a perfect rhythm, moving together as if we’d done this countless times before. I stroked him faster, matching the pace my hips set.
“I’m going to—” Ryker’s warning cut off with a groan as he came, his release spilling over my hand and onto the sheets.
His thighs clenching around me as he climaxed pushed me over the edge. I thrust forward one final time, pressing my forehead against him as I climaxed between his thighs with a satisfied moan.
We lay there, catching our breath, my arm still wrapped around him. I pressed gentle kisses to his neck, savoring the closeness.
“Okay,” Ryker finally admitted in a breathless voice. “I stand corrected. Thighs can be sexy.”
I slid out from behind Ryker, pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder before climbing out of bed. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice still husky.
“To the bathroom.” I didn’t bother to cover up as I walked across the room. “As much fun as it is to make a mess out of you, I want you to be comfortable.”
Once there, I ran warm water over a washcloth, watching my reflection in the mirror.
The man staring back at me looked different somehow, happier, more content than I’d seen myself in years.
It wasn’t just the post-orgasm glow, either.
There was something about being with Ryker that made everything feel right.
When I returned to the bedroom, he was still lying on his side, looking adorably disheveled. His hair stuck up at odd angles, and there was a flush across his cheeks that had nothing to do with embarrassment for once.
“Spread ’em,” I commanded with a grin, gesturing with the washcloth.
He scoffed but complied, self-consciously parting his thighs to reveal the mess I’d left between them. “This is so weird.”
I knelt on the bed beside him and cleaned the sticky residue from his skin. “I can’t have them sticking together. That’s a rookie mistake.”
“Is there a handbook for this stuff I should know about?” he asked, watching me with curious eyes.
“Nope. Just years of trial and error,” I replied, taking my time with the task. Caring for him in that moment created a special bond that felt more intimate than our sexual act. I could have handed him the washcloth and let him do it himself, but I wanted to savor the quiet act of tenderness.
“You don’t have to clean me up,” he said, although he made no move to stop me.
I glanced up from my work to meet his eyes. “But I enjoy taking care of you.”
Something in my tone must have affected him because he fell silent, continuing to watch as I finished cleaning him up. When I was done, I tossed the washcloth toward the hamper in the corner and missed by a mile before stretching out beside him on the bed.
“So,” I prompted after a comfortable silence had stretched out long enough, “how do you feel now?”
He hid his face in the pillow with a pained groan. “Sexually satisfied, a little guilty I couldn’t give you a good blow job, but not as awful after hearing your shit show horror stories.”
I laughed, nuzzling the back of his neck. “For the record, that was the most entertaining sexual experience I’ve had in years.”
“Glad my humiliation could provide amusement,” he grumbled, though I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Not humiliation, snookums. Adorable determination.” I pressed a kiss to his temple, breathing in the scent of his hair. “The way your eyebrows scrunch together when you’re concentrating is cute as hell.”
He elbowed me in the ribs. “I wasn’t trying to be cute. I was trying to be sexy.”
“Mission accomplished on both counts.”
My fingers drew lazy patterns on his stomach as the playfulness of our banter faded into something deeper in our silence.
When I spoke, my voice sounded more serious than before. “Thank you.”
He snorted. “For what? The world’s worst blow job attempt?”
“For trying something new to make me feel good. That means more than technique ever could.”
He melted against me with a contented murmur. “You’re welcome.” After a pause, he added, “I’m going to figure it out eventually.”
“I believe you,” I said, settling back down beside him. “Your ambition is sexy, snookums. Even when it leads to near-asphyxiation.”
That earned me a full-bodied laugh, the kind that shook the bed and made his eyes crinkle at the corners. I loved that sound and being the one to draw it out of him. There was something magical about Ryker’s laughter that made the world feel brighter and more vibrant.
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” he asked once his amusement had subsided.
I snickered. “Not a chance.”
When his amusement subsided, he gazed down at me with open affection. “I should thank you, too.”
I echoed his earlier question. “For what?”
“For making this easy,” he replied, gesturing vaguely between us. “For not making me feel weird about any of it.”
I reached up to cup his face, suddenly serious. “There’s nothing weird about exploring what feels good with someone who cares about you.”
He leaned down and gave me a sweet, lingering kiss that held more promise than passion.
“See? You’re already getting better at that part,” I told him.
“Practice makes perfect,” he quipped, settling down beside me with his head on my shoulder.
I wrapped my arm around him, pulling him close as contentment washed over me. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”