Chapter 9 - Lucy
"I want to be on top. Would that be okay?"
Riley's amber eyes widen. "It would be my pleasure," he says, his voice rough.
I can't help but smile. "A rugged gentleman. I didn't know they still made those."
"Don't tell anyone," he replies with a hint of that rare smile. "I have a reputation to maintain."
My heart is racing, pounding against my ribs like it might break free. Every nerve ending feels electrified, especially where Riley's hands rest on my hips. Beads of sweat trickle down between my breasts, and I suddenly feel too confined, too hot in what little clothing I have left.
"I need these off," I murmur, pulling my tank top over my head and tossing it aside.
Riley watches, his gaze appreciative rather than judgmental as I bare myself completely to him.
I've always been self-conscious about my body—too curvy by modern standards, with hips and thighs that never quite fit into trendy jeans.
But the way Riley looks at me like I'm something precious and desirable melts away years of self-doubt.
My eyes drop to the obvious bulge in his sweatpants, visibly throbbing with each beat of his heart. With newfound boldness, I reach for his waistband, tugging at the drawstring.
"May I?" I ask.
He nods, lifting his hips slightly to help as I pull down his sweatpants and briefs. His erection springs free, and I can't help the small gasp that escapes me.
He's... big. Thick and long, with a prominent vein running along the underside. I've never seen anything quite like it, and for a moment, I wonder if I've bitten off more than I can chew—literally.
"Did I do all that?" I ask shyly, gesturing to his impressive arousal.
Riley wraps his hand around himself, giving a slow stroke that makes my mouth go dry.
"Yes," he says simply. "All you."
I extend my hand, replacing his with mine. The feel of him is electrifying—hot, smooth skin over steel hardness. He throbs in my palm as I stroke him slowly, watching his reaction. His eyes close, head tilting back slightly, a soft groan escaping his throat.
The power of it—knowing I can affect this strong, controlled man so deeply—is intoxicating.
"Sit on the couch," I direct, surprising myself with my assertiveness.
Riley complies immediately, moving to sit in the center of the sofa. I rise from my position, feeling deliciously exposed as I stand naked before him. His eyes roam my body with lust, lingering on my breasts, my hips, the juncture of my thighs.
I straddle him, knees on either side of his powerful thighs, positioning myself above him. I'm so wet from his earlier attention that when I sink down, he slides in with surprising ease despite his size. Still, the stretch is intense—a delicious burn that has me gasping as I take him inch by inch.
"Fuck, Lucy," he breathes, his hands gripping my hips.
When I'm fully seated, I have to pause, adjusting to the feeling of being so completely filled. Riley waits patiently, though I can feel the tension in his body, the restraint it takes for him to let me set the pace.
I lean forward, placing my hands on his broad shoulders for balance, and begin to move. Slowly at first, lifting up and sinking back down, learning the rhythm that feels best. Riley places one strong hand on my lower back, the other cupping my ass, supporting me without controlling my movements.
As I pick up speed, my breasts bounce with each motion, drawing Riley's attention. He leans forward, trying to capture one nipple with his mouth. I adjust my position to help him, crying out when his warm mouth closes around my stiff peak.
"That feels amazing," I gasp, my hips moving faster now, driven by increasing need.
Every second since meeting Riley has been unexpected, unprecedented. From the moment my car broke down, to him helping me find the cottage key, to weathering the storm together—each interaction has built upon the last, creating something I can't quite name but know is significant.
This isn't just physical attraction, though there's certainly plenty of that. It's something deeper—a connection I didn't expect to find in this small town, with this guarded man who's shown me more kindness in two days than most people have in years.
And I know, even as pleasure builds within me again, that this can't be a one-time thing. I won't let it be.
Suddenly, Riley's hands move to my thighs, stopping my motion. I look down, questioning, and see something primal in his eyes—a hunger barely leashed.
"Let me," he says, his voice strained.
Before I can respond, he begins thrusting upward, his powerful hips driving into me with no mercy. His arms bulge with effort, veins standing out against tanned skin, hands gripping my thighs hard enough to leave marks.
I'm completely at his mercy, and it's glorious. I've been with men before, but never someone like Riley—never someone who combines such raw strength with careful attention to my pleasure. Each thrust hits perfectly, driving me rapidly toward another climax.
"Riley," I gasp, barely recognizing my own voice. "That's—oh god—"
I'm incoherent now, sensation overwhelming thought. I feel dampness on my chin and realize I'm actually drooling, past caring about anything but the building pressure inside me. My head falls back, eyes half-lidded, staring unseeing at the dark ceiling as waves of pleasure crash through me.
Just as I'm about to shatter, Riley pulls me close against his chest, changing the angle. His thrusts slow but deepen, each one deliberate and devastating. The new position has his pubic bone pressing against my clit with each movement, and that's all it takes.
My second orgasm hits even harder than the first, radiating outward from my core to the tips of my fingers and toes. I cry out, burying my face against Riley's neck as my body convulses around him.
He groans, hands and legs trembling, and then I feel it—the hot pulse of his release inside me. His cock throbs over and over, filling me as his arms tighten around my back, holding me to him like he's afraid I might disappear.
For long moments, we stay like this, connected and breathing heavily. I can feel his heart pounding against mine, our sweat mingling where our bodies press together.
Finally, Riley lifts his head from where it's rested against my shoulder. "I should have stopped," he says, his voice rough. "Before I finished inside. I couldn't—"
I place a finger against his lips, stopping his apology. "It's fine," I assure him. "I would have asked you to, anyway."
Riley pulls me closer, cradling me against his chest as our breathing slowly returns to normal. I adjust my position slightly to avoid crushing him, but he doesn't seem to mind my weight. We're sticky with sweat and other fluids, but neither of us makes a move to separate.
His fingers find my hair, gently working through the tangles, the rhythmic motion soothing. I rest my head against his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow beneath my ear.
"I still can't believe your car broke down at the exact town limit," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble I can feel through his chest.
I smile against his skin. "Maybe it was fate."
"I don't usually believe in fate," he says, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger. "But this... us... it's hard to explain otherwise."
"Us," I repeat, testing the word. "I like the sound of that."
His arms tighten around me slightly. "Me too."
We fall silent again, content in the aftermath of our unexpected connection. I can't quite wrap my mind around everything that's happened since arriving in Cedar Falls.
Less than forty-eight hours ago, I was alone in Phoenix, driving toward an uncertain future. Now I'm in the arms of a man who sees me—really sees me—in a way no one ever has before.
It's not just the sex, though that was undeniably incredible.
It's the way Riley listened when I talked about my writing, my father, my hopes.
The way he shared parts of himself that I suspect few people have ever been allowed to see.
The way he looks at me, not with the polite interest of someone making conversation, but with genuine curiosity and appreciation.
For so long, I've felt this emptiness inside me—a hollow space that grew after my father died, expanded with Emma's rejection, and yawned wider with each failed attempt to please my mother.
But here, in this moment, that void seems smaller somehow.
Not gone, but filling, like a parched garden finally receiving rain.
I wonder what the future might hold for us. We're such different people, from different worlds, with different scars. Yet somehow, we fit together in a way that defies explanation.
My eyelids grow heavy as exhaustion overtakes me. The last thing I remember before drifting off is the gentle pressure of Riley's lips against my forehead and the comforting weight of his arms around me.
Next Day
A persistent knocking jolts me awake. Disoriented, I blink against the sunlight streaming through the windows, momentarily confused about where I am. Then I feel Riley's warm body beneath mine, and everything comes rushing back.
"Someone's at the door," he says, his voice rough with sleep.
I lift my head, panic setting in as I realize the implications. "What time is it?"
"After eight, judging by the light," Riley says, already shifting me gently off him so he can stand.
The knocking comes again, more insistent this time.
"What do we do?" I whisper, looking around for my clothes, which are scattered across the living room floor.
Riley is already pulling on his briefs, “I don't know," he admits. "If someone sees me here..."
"The whole town will know by noon," I finish for him, understanding dawning.
In a community as small as Cedar Falls, gossip travels at light speed. While I don't particularly care what people think of my personal life, I sense this matters to Riley—that his privacy is precious to him.