9. MARCY #2
I barely register the sound of files scattering to the floor as his arm sweeps across the desk, making space for me. He lifts me effortlessly, setting me down on the desk, stepping between my legs.
Then his hands are everywhere. One grips my thigh, fingers pressing into soft flesh, dragging me closer until there’s no space left between us.
His other hand fists into my hair, tilting my head back as he deepens the kiss, his tongue claiming, demanding, tasting like a mix of heat, whiskey, and something entirely Ryder.
I moan into his mouth, my fingers tangling in his cut, yanking him closer, harder. He growls, a low, needy sound vibrating against my lips before he bites down on my bottom lip, tugging just hard enough to make my stomach flip.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I part my legs more, and he steps in, the solid press of his body framing me, caging me in, leaving me with nowhere to go. Not that I’d want to be anywhere else.
His lips trail down my jaw, his stubble scratching my skin, the friction sending heat straight to my core.
“Fuck, Marcy,” he murmurs against my skin. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
I shudder as his mouth finds my neck, sucking, teasing, his teeth scraping just enough to make me whimper.
“You’re not exactly suffering, Ryder,” I manage, breathless.
He chuckles darkly, his hand slipping under my sweater. Rough, calloused fingers skim my bare skin, dragging upward, claiming inch by inch.
My breath hitches when his palm curves over my breast, his thumb brushing over my already tight nipple through the lace of my bra.
I arch into him, my hips rocking instinctively, and he groans.
“Fuck,” he mutters, pulling back just enough to look at me, his pupils blown, his breathing ragged.
I stare up at him, my pulse thundering in my ears, my body buzzing with need.
And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel shy.
I don’t feel hesitant.
I feel powerful.
I smirk, running my fingers down his chest, watching his jaw clench under my touch. “You sure you can handle me, Ryder?”
His eyes darken further as he pushes me back onto the desk, pressing his body firmly over mine. “Princess,” he rasps, his lips hovering over mine, “I’m about to fucking ruin you.”
Ryder’s big hands slip beneath my sweater, hot and rough, sending shivers down my spine as he pushes the fabric up.
“Lift your arms,” he murmurs against my mouth.
I obey without hesitation, letting him peel the sweater off me, my breath hitching as the cool air kisses my heated skin.
His gaze drops, roaming over me, and the way he looks at me—hungry, reverent, utterly wrecked—makes my stomach clench with need.
“Fucking hell, sweetheart,” he mutters, running his palms over my curves, kneading, exploring.
I shiver beneath his touch, my skin buzzing, every nerve on high alert.
He leans down, his lips finding my collarbone, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of my neck. Down, down, down, his teeth scraping, his tongue soothing.
Then he reaches behind me, and with a quick flick, my bra comes undone. I barely have time to react before he’s sliding the straps down my arms, the fabric falling away, leaving me completely bare to him.
His eyes darken, fingers tracing the newly exposed skin, teasing the curve of my breasts before rolling his thumbs over my already stiff nipples.
A sharp whimper escapes me.
His grip is firm on me, and his lips follow the path of his hands, hovering just above my breasts, his breath warm, sending goosebumps racing across my skin.
He flicks his thumbs, rolling my nipples, and I arch into him, body aching, needing more.
“Sensitive, huh?” he murmurs, amusement thick in his voice.
I glare at him, but it’s weak, completely undone by the way my body is trembling under his touch.
Then, before I can respond, his mouth is on me—his tongue hot and wet, teasing, sucking, making me shudder as heat pools between my thighs.
I gasp, clutching his shoulders, and that’s when I feel it—the cool, smooth glide of metal as his tongue ring flicks against my skin.
I moan, head dropping back.
“You like that?” Ryder growls, dragging his pierced tongue over my heated skin, sending electricity shooting straight through me.
I whimper, my nails digging into his shoulders, but then a wicked idea blooms in my head.
I grab his jaw, tilt his face back up to mine, and slide my tongue into his mouth—playing with the metal stud, flicking it with my own tongue as we melt into another devouring kiss.
“Jesus, Marcy,” Ryder groans, his hands gripping my waist as I lick into his mouth again, rolling my tongue over the metal, letting it slide between my lips just to see his reaction.
He curses, his hands roaming, and suddenly I need more.
I need to feel him.
With shaky hands, I shove his cut off his shoulders, then grab the hem of his shirt and yank it over his head.
And holy shit…
My breath catches as I take him in—broad, muscled, inked-up perfection, tattoos licking up his arms, spreading across his chest, disappearing beneath his waistband.
I drag my fingers over the sculpted ridges of his abdomen, feeling the heat of his skin, tracing the dark ink that winds over his ribs.
“Damn,” I murmur, biting my lip. “You’re?—”
“Yeah?” Ryder grins, that cocky, knowing smirk back on his face.
I don’t answer. I just crash my mouth into his again, pressing my bare chest against his, the contact sending a new wave of heat surging through me.
These pants got to go.
Then—with zero warning—he grabs my panties and rips them clean off.
A gasp rips from my throat as I feel the fabric tear, cool air kissing my bare skin, my entire body thrumming with anticipation.
Ryder grins against my mouth, his voice thick with hunger. “Guess you won’t be needing those.”
I barely have time to process what’s happening before his fingers slide between my thighs, teasing, testing.
I whimper, rocking into him, my nails digging into his shoulders.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, dragging his pierced tongue down my neck, nipping, tasting, making me shudder. “You’re so damn wet already.”
I shudder, barely able to think.
And then, I realize he still has pants on.
Not for long.
With shaky fingers, I reach for his belt, fumbling with the buckle, my breath ragged.
Ryder chuckles, his voice dark and wrecked. “That eager, huh?”
I glare up at him, yanking the leather loose, the metal clinking as I finally unfasten him. Then I push down his jeans and boxers.
And… oh, shit.
I freeze, my breath catching in my throat.
Because holy fuck…
He’s huge.
Thick, long, heavier than Hawk by a mile.
I swallow hard, my brain short-circuiting as I stare at him, fully bare, hard, and dangerously tempting.
How the hell am I even supposed to take that? Like, physically?
Ryder watches my expression, and his grin turns absolutely feral.
“Scared, sweetheart?” he murmurs, amusement thick in his voice.
I lick my lips, forcing down the panic, determined not to back down. I meet his gaze, chin tilted up, full of stubborn defiance.
“Maybe.”
Ryder groans low and deep, gripping my thighs, spreading me open just enough.
“Good,” he mutters, voice gravel-rough. “Because I like a challenge.”
I swallow hard, my pulse hammering in my ears as I reach out, wrapping my fingers around him.
He’s so damn thick, my hand barely manages to close around his cock. And even then, there’s still more of him I can’t quite encompass.
“Holy shit,” I breathe, glancing up. “That thing is the size of my forearm.”
Ryder’s eyes flash, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Told you I was big,” he grunts, voice thick with smug heat.
I can’t help the small laugh that escapes me. Half nerves, half “holy hell, what am I getting myself into?”
But then he flexes in my hand, and my laugh dissolves into a whimper. He leans in, one hand sliding up my thigh, pressing me back onto the desk. His free hand cups my breast, thumb rolling over my nipple in slow, deliberate circles, sending sparks shooting through my core.
I shudder, my grip on his cock tightening.