Chapter 14 #4
Something in my chest shifts, his words melting through me. I want to hide from the kindness of it, the tenderness in his eyes, so I kiss him instead, tasting myself on his tongue and loving the reminder of how much he enjoyed it. Enjoyed me.
Rylie wraps an arm around my waist, sliding me closer against him, our sweaty chests rubbing together. I’m dismayed to realize his sweatpants are still on, and my greedy hands dive to the waistband, trying to tug them off. Rylie laughs again, stilling my eager fingers.
“Not sure what could possibly be funny right now,” I growl against his mouth, batting at his hands. He playfully swats back, then grips my wrists, turning me so my back is on the bed, hands held up near my ears as he looms over me.
“I’m not a piece of meat, Eva,” he says, smile smug. I can’t believe I actually like seeing this man so happy. “I want you to tell me what you want.”
“I want to come with you inside me,” I say, abandoning any self-consciousness about demanding too much.
If Rylie wants to hear it, I’ll fucking tell him.
“I want you to fuck me hard and deep and tell me again how pretty I look while you do it. I want you to make me come again, and I’ll do whatever you tell me to make it happen. ”
He pauses for a moment, lips parted and eyes electric. “God, you’re so fucking lovely when you beg.”
I wish I could play it cool, even for a second, but my smile is radiant, body glowing from his praise.
Before I can grapple the word from my hazy brain, Rylie’s reaching into his side drawer, pulling out a condom.
He sits back against the headboard, kicking off his sweatpants and ripping open the silver packet.
He holds the base of his cock to position it, and I grab the condom from him, overcome with the need to touch him, feel him in my hands.
I slide the rubber down his length, eyes bouncing between his dazed expression as he watches my movements, and the way he swells even more in my palm.
“Show me how much you want it,” Rylie whispers, gripping my thigh and nudging me to straddle his hips.
I position myself over him, the head of his cock brushing my slick entrance.
My hips start rocking, just the tip of him in me, and I clench hard, wanting him to fill me fully.
Rylie hisses through his teeth. I slide down his thick length slowly, reveling in the stretch, the way every new inch is more delicious than the last. I watch his face as I tease him, the concentrated agony in the set of his jaw, the flare of his nostrils, pupils blown wide and black as he watches me.
When I can’t take it anymore, I seat myself fully, flush to his pelvis.
Rylie’s groan of need is scraped from his throat, desperate and hungry and ready.
His abs flex as he curls up, taking my nipple into his mouth with an insistent pressure, the movement pushing him even deeper so sensation slices through me and I cry out, fisting his hair in my hands and gripping him tighter to me.
I may be on top but there’s no doubt who’s in control here.
Rylie collapses back against the sheets, and I plant my palms on his chest to keep my balance, nails biting into his flesh.
“Look at how perfectly you take me, Eva,” he says, voice revenant, almost slurred, eyes hazed and locked on where we’re joined.
His hands frame my hips, fingertips digging into my ass as he grinds me back and forth, a barely there motion that emphasizes how full I am.
I squeeze around him. “Fuck,” Rylie grunts, expression shattered.
“How are you so tight? I feel like I’m already gonna lose it, you feel so good. ”
I whimper with the need for friction, moments away from sobbing if I don’t feel the slick glide of him soon.
“Move for me, beautiful,” Rylie says, reading my mind and my body. “Give me everything.”
I bite down hard on my lower lip as I gladly do as he asks.
I flex my thighs and lift my hips up the thickness of him, already aching from the retreat, whining for him to fill me again.
Rylie’s hands tighten on my hips with a possessive grip when I reach the tip of his cock, and his lust-crazed eyes meet mine for a breathless, heavy moment.
Then, he smiles, a piercing wicked thing, and I know I’m a goner.
He slams me down, thrusting up in counterpoint, hitting a spot deep inside me that has me seeing stars as I cry out.
He does it again. And again. My nails dig harder into his chest, arms braced and back arched as he fucks me, voice coming to me in fractured pants as he drives us both toward the peak.
So good and tight and sweet fucking girl all growled at me as he works, the praise winding through me and cinching tight into a pulsing knot of pleasure low in my belly.
“Touch yourself, Eva,” he says, gripping one of my wrists and dragging it to my clit. Our fingers tangle for a moment as I shakily try to do as he says. He smiles as he watches me find a rhythm. “That’s it. Show off for me, gorgeous.”
My climax bursts through me quick as a flare, my body clenching around Rylie in frantic spasms as I try to suck in a breath.
My hands slip from his chest, and I collapse on top of him, wave after wave still pulsing through me.
I try to prop myself up but I don’t have the strength, tiny sobs pouring out of my throat.
“I’ve got you, baby,” Rylie says into my ear, still pumping into me from below. “You’ve done so fucking good.”
I squeeze tightly around him again, and Rylie bites my shoulder against a shout, losing his rhythm, grabbing my hips and holding me tight to him as he comes.
I can hear my heartbeat in my ears, feel it down to the tips of my toes and every inch in between.
I feel Rylie’s heartbeat too, fast and loud against my cheek, my body a boneless heap on top of his.
He doesn’t seem to mind. And for a moment, while we work to catch our breath, chests clashing in unmatched tempos, I don’t mind either.
Then Rylie goes and fucks it all up.
With the barest brush of his lips to the top of my head, he plants a kiss there. It’s too tender. Too endearing. A cuddle and kiss on the forehead isn’t how you end rough, one-night-only sex. I scramble off him, Rylie hissing when he unceremoniously slips out of me.
“You’re going to kill me,” he says, voice hazy.
An unhinged peal of laughter tumbles out of me, as harsh as breaking glass, and his eyes widen.
Then he laughs too. The warmth in his face, the uninhibited enjoyment etching his features, sobers me up.
Cooper notices—damn perceptive bastard, of course he does.
I can see him trying to read my expression.
I turn on my back, staring up at the ceiling.
A moment later, I feel him shift as he follows suit.
“That was…” His unfinished thought floats there, and I know we’re both playing a game of mental hangman to see what word will fit the blank space.
Amazing. Unexpected. Game-changing. Possibly the best sex of my life. A one-off… A mistake.
The last one makes something sharp hook in my chest, and I rush to fill the silence before I can feel the crushing blow of it from Cooper’s mouth.
“Weird.” Oh good god, I landed on weird ?
Cooper turns his head slowly to face me, his eyes heavy-lidded but bland. “Weird,” he echoes.
I open my mouth. Close it. Bite my bottom lip, then shrug. Everything about my time with Rylie Cooper is weird. One, because he’s weird, but two because he rewires my brain in a way that has me totally off-kilter.
He turns on his side again to face me, propping himself up on his elbow and resting his head in his palm. “I just delivered what was arguably the best oral sex performance of my life and the heckler in the cheap seats calls it weird?”
“That part wasn’t…”
“Weird?” he offers, nonplussed.
I nod. “That part was, er, really good.” His smirk is so arrogant I have the urge to bite him.
“So the weirdness was when I—” He gestures toward his crotch with his free hand, and I grab his wrist.
“No,” I growl, twisting his skin in opposite directions with both my hands to give him a rug burn. He easily slides out of my grip and swats me away. “That part was, uh, exceptional as well.”
“Exceptional?” he squeals, the corner of his mouth twitching up with his quirked eyebrow.
“Acceptable,” I correct through a dry throat, face heating.
“Exceptional,” he agrees with a nod, snaking his arm out to wrap around my waist, tugging me to him.
I burrow into the hair on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine.
And it feels good and tender and safe and…
right . A flare of panic erupts in my chest. Because that can’t be. That’s not how this is supposed to go.
This is one night, a private stop on his public redemption tour for hurting my precious feelings years ago. I’m not going to be that fool again. I’m not going to find emotions where there are none just because I feel raw and exposed after sex. Again. Fucking hell.
I wriggle out of his embrace, sitting up and pulling the sheet around my body. I make sure to kick his hideous comforter to the end of the bed.
“I guess I landed on weird because this whole thing is just that,” I babble. “I mean, we go from not talking to doing public dates for social media attention to having a heated fight after fake couples therapy like any of it means anything at all to either of us when we both know it doesn’t.”
I can see Cooper out of the corner of my eye, and I watch him blink a few times, his face falling.
I feel a twinge in my gut, and I want to take back the words.
But what would be the point? I’m not going to lie to myself just because I’m high on post-sex hormones.
I can feel the intensity of his stare, an expectant expression like he’s waiting for me to laugh and say I was joking.
I don’t. Instead, I pull my knees to my chest and rest my chin on them.
After a beat, Cooper sits up too, getting out of bed and handling the condom before grabbing his discarded sweatpants. I don’t notice the thick tension in the muscles of his back or how absurdly perfect his ass is as he pulls them on.
“Bathroom,” he mumbles in explanation as he heads to the door. “Back in a second.”
I know I should wait my turn for the restroom, take a moment in there to pull myself together, and handle this like a grown-up. I should apologize for being so harsh, and make sure we’re on the same page.
But the idea of hearing Cooper agree with me that this was a fun, one-time thing rips down my spine, and I get out of bed, frantically grabbing my clothes and pulling my skirt on backward, my bra inside out.
Some deranged, scolding voice in the back of my head tells me a UTI would serve me right for the stunt I’m about to pull, but I’ve never prided myself on acting like an adult, so why start now?
I hear the flush of the toilet and water burbling from the sink, and my movements speed up double-time.
I finally remember my shirt is in his damn foyer, and, with one final look at the bathroom door, I sneak out of his room and bolt down the stairs, throwing on my shirt haphazardly before disappearing into the night.