44. Gemira #3
He rewards me with his fingers, plunging two deep inside me, while his thumb circles my clit. His other hand palms my stinging ass, soothing and owning all at once.
“Say it right, little fox.” His voice is unraveled.
Another spank and another thrust.
“Ryewood—” The name rips out of me as his fingers drive deeper. “Oh fuck—Ryewood—”
Another spank. Another curl of his fingers against that spot inside me. I’m making sounds that don’t even sound human anymore.
“That’s it.” His voice is guttural. “Scream my name, little fox.”
“Ryewood!” I’m mindless. “Please—Ryewood—please don’t stop—”
I’m so close. The pleasure is coiling so tight, ready to snap—then he stops with his fingers stilling inside me.
“No—” I sob. “No, please, Ryewood. Please—”
“Shhh.” His hand soothes my burning ass. “I’m not done with you yet.”
He grips my hips and spins me around. My back hits the cold stone. Before I can think, he drops to his knees. I look down at him, and the hunger in his eyes makes my breath catch.
“Do you know how fucking perfect you’ve been?
” His voice is fraying at the edges. “Every filthy confession. Every desperate sound. Every time you begged for me.” His hands spread me open, and my knees threaten to give out.
“You’ve earned this. But you don’t come until I say.
And when I let you, I want my name on your lips. My full name. Understood?”
I nod; I’m going to die right here with his filthy words ringing in my ears.
His mouth crashes into me, and his tongue drags through my core like he owns me, tasting every inch before his lips close around my clit and licks.
I shamelessly moan.
He devours me. His tongue fucks into me, deep, filthy thrusts, then drags back to my clit, circling, flicking, licking until the world narrows to nothing but his mouth. Two fingers slide inside me and curl, finding that spot that makes my vision blur.
“Ryewood—” I’m trembling. “Fuck—”
He groans against my clit, a rumble of satisfaction that vibrates straight through my core. His fingers pump faster. His tongue works my clit in tight, relentless circles.
“You taste so fucking good.” He growls it against me, then sucks my clit back into his mouth. “Been dreaming about this.”
I’m so close, teetering on the edge of something devastating. I grab his hair, desperate for something to anchor me.
“Ryewood—” I’m barely holding on, every muscle in my body fighting to obey him. “Ryewood, please—”
He licks faster and pumps his fingers deeper, relentlessly, pushing me right to the edge and holding me there. I’m shaking, begging, barely breathing.
“Come,” he demands against my clit. “Come on my face. Now.”
His command shatters me. The orgasm rips through me so hard I can’t breathe.
Can’t think. Can’t do anything but scream his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me.
The most intense, devastating release of my entire life.
I splinter into a thousand pieces. Into something new, into something entirely, irrevocably his.
And he doesn’t stop. He keeps licking, keeps sucking, keeps fucking me with his fingers until I’m sobbing, trembling, and in pieces.
“That’s it.” His voice is breathless. “That’s my good girl. Give me all of it.”
I’m panting his name. Clenching around his fingers. Shaking so hard I’d collapse if he didn’t have his massive hand splayed across my stomach, pinning me to the stone.
I come until I can’t breathe. Until there’s nothing left but him and the pleasure still pulsing through me. Only when the last tremor fades, does he finally pull back and press a soft kiss to my inner thigh.
I can’t speak, can’t move, can’t remember who I was before this man.
For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our ragged breathing and the pounding of my heart.
I come back to myself in pieces, the crash of the waves, the cold air on my skin, his forehead resting against my thigh as we both try to remember how to breathe.
He gathers me into his arms and lowers us into his lap; my body is still trembling, with my breath coming apart in little gasps.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me, little fox? I’m yours. Completely fucking yours.”
I melt into him and let myself rest there. Let myself believe this can be enough.
Then a sound carries to us, not close or loud. But it’s definitely footsteps on the stone above us, where the grounds meet the cliff.
My body goes cold.
I pull back sharply with my heart hammering. “Rye.”
He hears it too. I see the shift in him instantly, the way his shoulders lock and his gaze lifts, already calculating. He reaches for my leathers, helping me put them on fast. He presses his forehead to mine for half a heartbeat.
“We can’t,” he murmurs. “We have to stop.”
I nod, swallowing hard, the aftershocks of pleasure tangling with something colder. Because he’s right, we have to stop. We can’t afford any witnesses.
And the worst part isn’t how reckless this was. It’s that the fear isn’t enough to outweigh the want I still feel. Not even close.