Chapter 12 #2
His palm trails from my hip to my pelvis, pressing down to keep me still, and I realize belatedly that my hips are writhing, seeking more of the tongue he’s so generously lavishing me with.
I can’t stop—my body on its own trajectory, unimpeded by rational thought.
The sight of his solid forearm, roped with veins and muscles that strain as he holds me in place for his singular purpose, hurtles me over the edge.
My climax rolls through my body in a crescendo that swells as he only continues his skillful ministrations.
My hips will no longer be caged, rising off the mattress as I cry out in a broken sob.
But I vaguely notice his arm is no longer holding me, anyway—he’s moved it down to slip two thick fingers inside me.
I’m still mid-orgasm, it’s impossible to feel anything better, but when he hooks his fingers, pressing firmly against my G-spot, I explode anew.
I gasp, a crackling sound, my body twisting despite being attached to Ryan’s fingers and face, his pace continuous but gentling, letting me ride down the wave.
I’m shaking all over, still spasming, so full of sensation that I don’t notice he’s pulled away until he’s back again a second later, eyes feral, mesmerized by the orgasm tearing through me.
If he’s proud of himself, he should be. A-plus, Ryan. Gold star. 10/10, no notes.
Somewhere in the midst of this maniacal evaluation, I hear a low, vaguely familiar hum.
I’ve barely resumed breathing when I feel Ryan thumbing my sensitized clit again, testing me out.
It’s too much—it should be too much, right?
I shouldn’t be circling my hips, seeking his hand yet again.
Insatiable, you thirsty beast. But that’s exactly what I do, and I’m rewarded with the identity of that humming sound as I feel a sudden sting against my clit.
Not a sting—a vibration. My vibrator. On Ryan’s thumb, buzzing against my tender flesh and making my wide eyes fly to his.
He’s watching me raptly, pupils blown so big his eyes are practically black—the devil himself.
“I thought I’d die when I saw this in your room,” he says, his voice a low abrasion. “Imagining you making yourself come made me nearly climb out of my skin. Pictured using it on you myself. But nothing I pictured could compare to the real thing.”
If I could think straight, I’d realize this confirms my suspicion that he spied it on my nightstand back in…where was it? On Earth somewhere, anyway. A place I’ve long since vacated as his expert touch has catapulted me into the clouds.
Impossibly, pressure starts to build again.
“Wanted to know how you’d taste, how you’d feel as you came apart on my tongue.” He taps the vibrator against my clit as he inserts a finger again, teasing that spot inside me and causing my head to thrash against the mattress. “Fucking dreamed of making you scream.”
His words are what do it more than anything.
This time the orgasm is so fierce, tearing through me so acutely that my back arches right off the bed.
I cry out as my body bolts upright, bucking my hips against his hand, riding it hard even as it feels almost like too much.
He leans forward, fluttering his tongue over my nipple before pinching it between his lips, doubling the onslaught of sensation and ripping the air right out of my lungs.
How? How is it possible to come three times in such close succession?
If my brain could compute anything right now, I’d try to puzzle it out, but that equation will have to wait for its solution.
Right now the organ in my head is busy perishing, causing my mouth to spout nonsense about Ryan’s skilled hands, his wasted talents, how I can’t believe he’s capable of this and been keeping it secret, how he should do this for a living instead.
Ryan seems to sense that I’m depleted—for now. He turns off the vibrator and gathers my slumped body into his arms, my heated skin against his. His scent is made stronger by his arousal, and my mouth seeks his in a deep kiss that tastes like the masterful things he just did to me.
I crawl onto his lap, feeling the rough chafe of his jeans against my inflamed flesh. The fact that he’s still wearing any clothes—particularly ones that restrict his sizeable erection—after everything he’s done to me feels cruel and unfair.
“Oh, Ryan.” I pout. “This is simply unacceptable.”
I reach between our bodies, cupping him through his jeans, earning a shaky exhale.
“You give me three orgasms before I even get to see your dick?” I tsk.
He’s breathing roughly as I unbutton his jeans and drag down his zipper. But suddenly my progress is halted, his hand stilling mine.
“I don’t have a condom,” he says. “I didn’t bring any on the trip.”
Because he didn’t expect to get his bones jumped. Never imagined we’d be obliterating boundaries in such grand fashion.
“My mouth is pretty talented too,” I say.
A noise escapes him that’s either a choke or a sob. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t. But you’d like me to. Wouldn’t you?”
It’s like there are cactus needles in his throat, judging by the pained look on his face when he swallows. “That doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does.”
The tortured look in his eyes causes clouds to gather behind my rib cage. I swallow down the emotion that has no business rising in my chest.
While he’s supposedly been dreaming of watching me come, I’ve been riding my vibrator for days, imagining his glorious erection. No chance it’s not coming out to play.
Plus, making sure he gets his due will help to reinforce that this is just a hookup. Mutually beneficial. Casual. Meaningless. Never to be thought of again after tonight.
Forget the fact that the image of Ryan worshipping my clit, spellbound by my orgasms, will be impossible to evict from my mind anytime soon. Hard to believe it’ll ever vacate the premises.
If that memory’s going to live rent-free in my head, though, may as well add to it. In for a dime and everything.
“Well, I’m about to blow your mind too,” I say. “Because I came prepared.”
I reach for the small toiletry case on my nightstand, pulling out a short strip of condoms and tearing one off. There’s an unmistakable tremor in his muscles as I push him onto his back, kneeling between his legs to pull his jeans off.
The dick print against his briefs is delectably vulgar. I pull the material down and his cock springs free. Saliva floods my mouth.
Jackpot.
Christ. If his mouth and hands alone weren’t capable of plunging me over the edge of oblivion, this gorgeous instrument would definitely do it. It’s long, thick, twined with veins, the skin on the purpling head so taut that there’s no way he’ll last long.
The urge to taste him is so strong I can’t not. I lick up the underside, flicking the sensitive ridge just below the head before capping my lips over the dome and swirling my tongue around it.
His eyes roll back in his head and he groans, “God.”
I hold him by the base and take him deep, keeping my tongue in constant motion when I pull back to the head, adding stimulation to the most sensitive parts.
He punches his hips forward, seeking more of my mouth, but a moment later he’s pushing me away by the shoulders, panting, “Please, please stop.”
“Pretty sure you were enjoying that.”
“Understatement of the century,” he says. “But I desperately want to fuck you, Ana. Can I?”
Why not both? But he is looking very close, and if tonight is a one-off, he should get what he wants out of it. “I thought you’d never ask,” I say.
He rips open the condom packet and rolls it down his length.
His gaze is riveted to mine as I straddle his hips, an earnestness in his expression that seems to reach inside me, sending fissures through vital organs and filling my belly with something I can’t name.
So I focus instead on where our bodies meet, guiding the crown of his shaft to my entrance and feeling his whole body stiffen in anticipation.
The feel of him gliding inside me, inch by inch, rivals the considerable pleasure he’s already given me tonight.
Not only because I love being filled—and holy hell, his cock is spectacular, hitting all the right spots and forcing me to focus on breathing through the sensations—but because I’m giving him the same immeasurable pleasure in turn.
His powerful thighs rigid with tension, abs clenched, hands impatient on my skin.
When he’s fully seated inside me, I circle my hips and start to rise again, but his fingers dig into my waist, holding me still.
“Go slow,” he rasps, his body radiating like it’s nuclear.
“Yes, sir,” I say.
I lower again carefully, the friction exquisite.
I’m so wet that, despite his size, my body is eager to accommodate him.
I lean back slightly, balancing myself on his thighs, pleasure cascading through me and causing my whole body to undulate as I ride him.
I’m on full display and he’s captivated, eyes burning with intensity as he watches.
It turns me on so much that it’s impossible not to speed the rolling wave of my hips.
“You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He rises to kiss me, hands clutching at the roots of my hair. “Riding cock like a fucking goddess,” he whispers against my lips. “Of course you’d be a dream in bed. How could you be anything else.”
His quiet praise winds me even tighter, and I grind my hips forward, chasing the sensation building yet again low in my belly.
“You feel amazing,” I pant, clenching around him. Sucking him deeper.
He growls into my skin. “If I could last, I’d fuck you as hard as I want to, make you scream from it.
Would you like that?” I nod, his stubble scratching against my cheek.
“Yeah, I thought so,” he drawls, sucking on the base of my throat.
He punches his hips upward, showing me what he means, eliciting a hoarse exclamation from me.
“But it’s been a while, and you’re so fucking hot, I’m dying. Next time.”
Next time. I shut my eyes, ignoring the trip wire those words plant in my mind. The dangerous potential in them.
My pace has increased, there’s no help for it, and he’s meeting me halfway with his own thrusts, the coiling pressure an exquisite torture, he the most magnificent tormentor in history.
He angles his hips to hit the spot he’s getting to know so well, driving into me once, twice, before stars explode behind my eyelids.
A choked cry escapes me and he gathers me close, holding me against his broad chest, firm, protective, like at any second I could be snatched away.
He pounds his hips up, his control lost, making strangled noises as he follows me over the edge.
His body shudders against mine as he rasps my name like a curse. Like a prayer.
The daze takes so long to subside that I don’t realize until minutes—maybe many minutes—later that his hands are stroking my back in soothing circles, his lips pressing gentle kisses on my shoulder, my cheek, my temple as he whispers more praise into my skin.
It doesn’t even occur to me to stop him.