“What do you need?” he says again. His hands are at my waist, smoothing over the leather of my skirt. “Tell me what you need.”
I’m not good at being vulnerable. I’m not good at letting people in. I’d rather walk around the world stark naked than walk around admitting to having faults and feelings and insecurities.
And boy, has this man seen me naked. Maybe that’s why everything has been so topsy-turvy with us. We started with me naked. No walls, no hiding. Just me, exactly as I am, with curves and freckles and sunburned shoulders.
He’s known what I am, all that I am, from day freaking one. Now the question becomes: Will I let him know who I am? Will I let him in?
Taking a deep breath, I look in his eyes. For him, I’m willing to try. “I want this, Ryan,” I say. “I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me. Here. Now.”
His energy darkens as he smooths a thumb over my cheek. “Tess—”
“Wait.” I lift my hand to cover his on my cheek. “I want to let you in—I—god, I’m gonna try to let you in, okay? But my head can be a crazy place sometimes,” I warn, dropping my hand away.
“I’ve noticed,” he says with a smirk. His hand lowers, too, his thumb brushing along the curve of my shoulder.
I shiver, loving the feel of his gentle touch. Centering myself in that feeling, I give him my vulnerability. “Ryan, the last man who touched me did so in anger. I think it’s making me afraid to take this step with you. I’m afraid of the surrender, of the loss of control.”
He goes still, holding his breath as his eyes flash.
“I want you to help me reclaim it.”
He raises a brow. “Your control?”
“And my consent,” I say with a nod. “Both.”
“How do we do that?” he asks, searching my eyes.
“We fuck,” I reply. “And we hold nothing back. I want to give myself to you, Ryan. I want to trust that you won’t hurt me, that you’ll only bring me pleasure.”
“Jesus, Tess.” He drops his hands away.
My heart flutters in nervous anticipation. “You don’t want that?”
He groans. “Well—fuck, I can’t have this conversation in front of Drunk Cleopatra,” he says, waving his hand over at the bed where poor Tegan is softly snoring.
I stifle a laugh, taking his hand. “Come on.”
“Wait—”
I pull him from the room, glancing right towards the crowded game area before moving left.
“Tess, what are you doing?”
My heart races as I open the next door, peeking in to see a bathroom. No way. I am not fucking this man next to a toilet. Shutting the door, I move down and open the next.
“Tess—”
“In here,” I say, pulling him into the dark, empty nursery. It’s cute, decorated in soft blues and greys. There’s a crib along the far wall, framed in by book and toy shelves. A loveseat is situated under a big window, gauzy curtains drawn to only let in the light from an outside streetlamp.
Ryan steps into the middle of the room and slowly turns to face me. “Seriously? Baby Josh’s room?”
I shut the door and lock it, leaning against it. “I don’t think he’ll mind. And unless you wanted to stay in there with Drunk Cleopatra…or join the Eiffel Tower crew—”
“No,” he says, eyes narrowed.
“You make me feel good, Ryan,” I say, cutting to the chase. “You make me feel safe. And our chemistry is off the freaking charts. I know you feel it too. I think you’ll make me a fantastic lover, and if you want it, I’m saying yes.”
“Tess…” His heated gaze is locked on me.
I push off the locked door, walking towards him. “You can have all of me…any way you want me. You can be gentle…or you can be rough.” I pause, just within arm’s reach of him. “I consent—”
And then I’m in his arms. He pulls me to him, kissing me with all the passion I know he feels for me. We melt into each other, our hands clinging as we sigh our relief into each other’s mouths that we’re finally kissing, touching, sharing air. Why do we ever stop kissing when it feels this good?
His lips are soft, even as his kisses are urgent. He opens me up with his teasing tongue and I let him in, loving the feel of him against my lips. Our hands work feverishly, desperate for this moment of reconnection. I’m slowly learning his body, memorizing the planes of his chest, the muscled cording of his arms. I slip my hands inside his leather cut, smoothing my hands down over his ribs.
“You think you’re so cute wearing this, don’t you,” I tease, nipping his bottom lip. “Trying to drive me crazy?”
“Cute isn’t the word I’d use,” he replies, his hands flipping up my leather skirt until he’s palming my ass, pulling me against his erection. “But it’s just a costume. If that’s the reason we’re about to fuck—”
Silencing him with my tongue in his mouth, I jerk the cut off his shoulders, dragging it down his arms, and drop it to the floor. “I want you,” I pant against his lips. “There is only you. Fuck me, Ryan. Take control—”
He silences me with another kiss, his hands dropping to his shirt. He jerks it off, only breaking our kiss for a moment before he’s opening his pants. “Touch me,” he orders, grabbing my hand and slipping it inside his boxers, holding tight to my wrist as I palm his hard dick. His hold softens, sliding down until his hand is wrapped around mine.
I gasp, breaking our kiss as I look down, watching as our hands stroke him together. Precum leaks from his tip. I brush my thumb over it, desperate for a taste. He groans, his free hand going to my shoulder. Then he’s cupping my cheek, tipping my face up.
“Oh—” I say on a laugh, taking in the bright smear of red across his lips. “I made a mess of you.” I lift my free hand, ready to rub the color off his bottom lip. “Here—”
“Leave it,” he says, jerking his head away. “I want it there. I want that devil red lipstick painted all over my dick too. Get on your knees and suck it.” He grabs my jaw, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp. “Then I’ll fuck you ‘til your legs give out. Before I’m done, the only word spoken from these lips will be my name.”
“Oh, thank God,” I whimper, my body turning to jelly as I drop eagerly to my knees. I grab him by the hips and pull him closer, working him out of his boxers. I’m about to put him in my mouth when he suddenly pulls away from me. “Ryan, what—”
He steps back several feet until his hip hits the dresser. Then he braces his hands to either side, gripping the dark wood, and glares down at me, his gaze molten.
I don’t let myself shrink under his stare. I want him looking at me. I’m on my knees in this sexy devil costume, red-painted lips smeared by his kisses. Feeling empowered by the hunger in his eyes, I lift my hands to the top of my red lace bustier. Fingers gripping the cups, I pull them down, letting my breast fall loose over the corset.
A muscle in his jaw twitches, and his hands grip tighter to the dresser. “Crawl.”
My pussy clenches. “What?”
“Crawl to me,” he repeats. “You want this dick? You want me to make you come? Make you scream? Take control?”
“Yes,” I beg, swallowing my nerves.
“Yes, what?” he says with a raised brow.
Oh, my sweet puppy did not come to play. I knew I sensed a hunger for domination in him. I don’t think Ryan has ever let himself explore his sexuality. He’s unsure of his likes, his cravings. Each time I’ve said or done something he reacts to, I’ve taken note. In this moment, I know exactly what he wants.
Holding his gaze, I lift my hands to my breasts, pinching my nipples until I gasp, the rush of pleasure echoing in my aching clit. “Yes, sir.” I watch him shiver with need at my words and it makes me tremble too. I love this side of him. I want to draw it out.
Play with me, baby.
“Then work for it,” he growls, those pretty green eyes blown black with desire. “Crawl to me, Tess.”