40. Ryker
RYKER
I carried her to my bed, her weight light against my chest, and set her down on the cool sheets.
“Are you going to spank me?” she asked, her expression challenging me.
I popped the brass button on my worn jeans and pulled the zipper down. The rasp sounded too loud in the quiet.
“I want those legs around my neck,” I said. “Fuck my face, Sloane. I want to taste every inch of you. To lick and suck that sweet cunt until you come and beg me to stop.”
I tugged at the waistband of her faded jeans. She lifted her hips, and I dragged them down her thighs. The denim caught for half a second, then slid.
My gaze landed on the black lace thong. I hooked my thumbs under the sides and pulled it down her legs.
“Spread your legs,” I growled.
I ran a calloused knuckle over her glistening pussy. Heat. Wet. She shivered beneath my touch.
Every breath she took came out shaky. I got between her knees and put my mouth on her. I ran my tongue along the slick seam of her pussy, slow first, then deeper, tasting her.
She made a sound that broke into a gasp and a laugh, breathy and wrecked. Her hips rolled toward me, and her thighs tensed under my palms.
Her cunt was already swollen, slippery, and hot against my mouth.
I slid two fingers inside her and kept my tongue working between her pussy lips. Her scent filled the room and crowded my head. Sloane clamped her thighs around my skull and ground into my face, taking what she wanted, using my mouth.
Good.
I licked her slow, then fast, no pretty patterns, just pressure and purpose. I buried my face in her cunt until my chin was slick with her juices.
She moaned and fisted her hand in my hair. Her nails scraped my scalp, sharp enough to sting.
I sucked her clit and felt her whole body go rigid. Her heels dug into my back, the bite of it lighting me up. Her pussy pulsed on my tongue, clenching in waves. Her hips jerked in short, hard rhythms, and little sounds spilled out of her.
“Ryker!”
She pressed down into me, chasing every sweep of my tongue, every curl of my fingers. When she tipped over the edge, her thighs trembled against my cheeks. Her cunt fluttered and gripped my fingers, tight and helpless.
I didn’t stop. Not when she gasped my name. Not when it came out broken and pleading. Not when her spine lifted off the mattress. Not when the aftershocks made her legs shake and her heels carve indents into my lower back.
“Good girl.”
I crawled up her body, my mouth wet and lips shining with her. I helped her pull her wrinkled cotton shirt over her head, then remove her lace-trimmed bra. Her breasts spilled free, nipples pebbled and dark.
I rolled one between my thumb and forefinger until she hissed, then the other. I took her in my mouth, one at a time, tasting the salt on her skin.
Her hands slid over my back, and her nails dragged down my shoulder blades, leaving hot lines.
“Fuck me, Ryker. Please.” Her voice was ragged. “I need you inside me.”
I wanted to stretch it out. I wanted to make her beg longer. But the sound she made, soft and ruined at the edges, had my dick throbbing.
I yanked my shirt over my head and tossed it aside, then removed my jeans and boxer briefs.
Cool air hit my skin as I pressed her down into the mattress. The springs complained under our weight. I dragged my cock over the slick heat of her cunt through the damp fabric between us and almost lost my grip on the moment.
She reached between us with trembling fingers, nails skimming down my abdomen before she wrapped her hand around my shaft. Soft palm. Ruthless grip. She guided me to her entrance, hungry and steady.
I pushed inside her, slow at first. I watched her expression shift as I filled her tight cunt inch by excruciating inch.
Sloane arched under me and dug her nails into my waist hard enough to leave marks. Her body opened and pulled for more.
“Jesus,” I ground out. My voice came out rough and torn.
The pressure at the head of my dick wiped my thoughts clean. I drove all the way in and bottomed out deep inside her. She gasped.
Her pussy fluttered and clenched around me, still sensitive from coming on my mouth. I held myself there, forcing control through sheer will, because I could have spilled right then.
She locked her legs around my hips and pulled me deeper, greedy for it.
I started moving. Deliberate strokes. Taking my time. Her moans hit the room and went straight to the back of my skull.
I dropped my mouth to her throat and bit at the pulse jumping under her skin, leaving my mark on her.
“Harder,” she gasped. Her teeth sank into my shoulder, right where it would bruise by morning. “Fuck me, Ryker. Don’t hold back.”
My hips snapped forward in a faster rhythm. The antique headboard started slamming the wall. She grabbed at my back as if she needed something solid to hold onto. Her palms slid over sweat-slick skin, leaving heat behind.
I watched her face change. Brows drawn tight. Lips parted. A sound caught in her chest and broke out as a moan.
She arched, breasts pressing into my chest. I palmed their weight, calloused hands closing around soft flesh. My thumbs circled her nipples until they hardened into tight peaks.
I slowed, but every thrust went deeper. Her body gripped mine so hard my lungs stuttered. My cock throbbed inside her, every drag and drive turning the edges of my vision soft.
I hooked her knees over my elbows and opened her wider. I looked down and watched myself disappear inside her. Wet. Pink. Glistening.
I drove into her with purpose. No hesitation. No mercy.
She was heat and pressure, trembling and shuddering with every measured stroke. Sweat ran down my back and pooled at the base of my spine. I kept pounding into her, chasing that edge while watching her come apart under me.
My balls were tight and heavy.
She started shaking, nails digging deep into my back, breaking skin.
“Fuck, Ryker, I’m gonna …” She couldn’t finish. Her whole body locked around my throbbing dick, squeezing hard enough to make me see white.
Her pussy clamped down with bruising strength, slick and spasming. It nearly cracked my control in half.
I didn’t let up. I fucked her through it. I wanted to see how far she’d go. I wanted to see tears in her eyes from how good it felt.
She whimpered, little desperate sounds, and when she finally came down, trembling, I flipped her over and dragged her onto all fours. Her spine arched, offering.
She looked back over one freckled shoulder. Her gaze glazed with hunger, and she grinned, bold and filthy.
“Do it,” she breathed, voice rough and commanding. “Come inside me.”
I didn’t need to be told twice.
I grabbed her ass, fingers digging into soft flesh as I spread her open. I slid my cock right back into that soaked, greedy cunt.
Tighter. Better angle. Perfect.
I slammed into her, hips snapping forward hard enough to rock the oak bed with each thrust. The headboard hit the wall again and again with rhythmic thuds.
I caught her reflection in the rain-streaked window. Pale skin in the half-light. Dark hair wrecked around her shoulders. Mouth open.
It ripped the last thread of control out of me.
I reached around and found her swollen clit and rubbed tight circles while I fucked her. It hardened under my fingertips. She went loose and frantic, slamming her hips back into me hard enough to throw me off balance.
She was still so sensitive she started shaking all over again. Her pussy clenched around my cock, gripping me tight.
“Sloane, I’m gonna …” I warned. My voice sounded wrecked, barely mine.
She craned her neck.
“Come in me,” she commanded, a rough whisper.
That was it.
I fucked her harder, faster, chasing the edge with nothing left in me but need. The world went hot and dark. Every nerve turned to liquid fire, then snapped tight all at once.
I came deep inside her. My cock pulsed and throbbed, filling her completely.
When I finally stilled, we both collapsed. Limbs and sweat and raw, humming need that still hadn’t faded.
I didn’t want to let her go, not for a second.
I rolled us onto our sides and kept her pressed against me, my dick still twitching inside her as if it couldn’t stand to leave. She breathed fast and shallow against my neck, muscles trembling from what I’d done to her.
“Fuck,” she whispered, wrecked but triumphant, lips brushing my collarbone. “You’re … dangerous.”
A low laugh slipped out of me. Half-dazed, I kissed the damp curve where her neck met her shoulder.
“You’re the one who almost killed me.”
We lay there, breaths loud in the dim room. Sloane’s fingers traced slow patterns up and down my arms, light touches over skin that still buzzed.
When I shifted, she didn’t let me go far. She pulled me in and curled against my chest, hair spilling across my arm.
She tilted her face up, brown eyes still blown wide, glassy and stubborn.
And it hit me, simple and sharp.
Maybe she wasn’t going to run. Not this time.
I kissed her hair and stared at the ceiling, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into with this fierce, unpredictable woman.