“Over a week,” he said against her mouth. He was already out of control, the way she always made him feel. “For over a week I haven’t seen you. I haven’t touched you. I haven’t smelled you.”
He latched onto her lips again, his tongue pushing its way between them to steal her sweetness. Shawna guided his hand under her dress, and Ryan slid it across her bare derriere. She moaned, and he grew harder hearing those breathy little noises she made.
When his fingers went in search of the heat between her legs, she pushed away his hand before it reached its goal. “Wait.”
The tip of his thumb lined the seam of her lips to silence her. Her eyes darkened to a sultry hue, and her lips parted for him, exposing her irregular breathing.
“We can’t do this here. Not like this,” she said in a shaky voice.
“Then stop me.” He tasted her lips again. They were bruised and swollen.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“I can’t stop, either,” he whispered back.
Can’t. Not won’t, but can’t. There was a certain inevitability about it. A resignation to an inescapable fact. Incapable. Unable to do otherwise. Can’t. He kissed her again, his muscular body straining against hers while prodding her lips to yield to the press of his tongue.
Her ears buzzed from the manner in which he now used both hands to shove her dress up over her thighs to her hips. The lightweight fabric pooled across his forearms before he slid his fingers slowly, torturously, beneath the flimsy sheer panties she wore.
One hand found its way between her legs and her body sang under each masterful stroke. His fingers slid between the folds, coaxing more moisture from her and playing with her pebbled clit in such a way that made her thighs tighten and her legs shake from the sensual power of his touch. He’d become considerably harder and longer as their kiss deepened and their caresses became more frantic. She could feel every solid inch of him and her stomach clenched in need.
His mouth traveled down her throat, the tip of his tongue licking the soft skin at the top of her bodice. Her fingers tunneled into his satiny dark hair, anchoring him to her. She sighed with satisfaction at being so close to him again. Thousands of invisible needles of desire pricked the surface of her skin where the coarse stubble on his chin and jaw grazed the swollen crests of her breasts.
The zipper on her dress lowered and the top fell away. Ryan paused for a moment, his harsh breath showering the exposed skin with warmth.
“Please,” she whispered, cupping her breasts and offering them to him.
They were extremely sensitive and the tips tightened to stinging peaks. She was so far gone she no longer cared about where they were; she wanted relief. He obliged, but barely, choosing only to flick his tongue across one dark peak. She begged him for more, pleaded. Finally, he covered the nipple and areola with his mouth, sucking until she helplessly moaned into his hair as she clutched him.
He lifted his head so his mouth could devour hers again. Then her neck. Then her collarbone. Kissing, nipping, sucking.
He dragged her underwear past her knees. She stepped out of them while he undid his pants. After slamming down the lid on the commode, he sat down and fit a condom over his distended shaft.
Legs trembling, Shawna stood before him.
What had happened to her? Who had he made her become? This wanton with no inhibitions. Hot sex the first night they met, against the wall in an alley, and now this. Anytime, anywhere Ryan wanted her she was accessible to him.
He tugged her hand and pulled her between his legs. His eyes bored into her as he waited, letting her make the next move. It was her decision how far they would go.