Oh my God! Where the hell did he learn to speak and purr in that deep, vibrating tone against each erogenous zone? It makes my body mind-blowingly reactive.
He spreads my legs and lifts me so my exposed, soaking wet arousal glides effortlessly over his steel nine pack abs. Without missing a beat, he grabs hold of the other pleading, neglected nipple with his lips while he grips my thighs in his firm strong hands and maneuvers my trembling, weak body in tight circles, rubbing my hypersensitive and oh so responsive clit against his rippling muscles.
My whole being hums with a spreading energy that moves out from my core, through my belly, shooting explosive tingles into my arms and legs, fingers and toes.
“I’m going to . . .”—I tense before the moment utterly engulfs me—“come.”
I surge and swell and rush into the tide of Ryder’s making. My physical form is overcome, and I fall apart in his arms.
“Oh, Jesus Christ! You’re gorgeous, Farrington.”
Ryder snakes a supporting arm under my ass as his other hand buries underneath my hair at the nape of my neck and he pulls me into a soul awakening kiss.
The words I love you flit through my mind, but I swallow them back, knowing they would ruin the moment with too much sentimentality. This unparalleled experience is organic, and I want it to stay that way.
This may not be forever, I tell myself, but it is a lifetime contained in a moment.
Chapter Twelve
Ryder
Her body is my holy grail, my Ark of the Covenant—a holy, priceless treasure that I’ve searched for and waited for all of my life.
I lay her on the bed and spread my body over hers. I crush her delicious tits beneath the strength of my chest, and they feel incredible.
“Say my name again,” she says.
“Rachel.” I let the heat of my breath caress the inner curves of her ear.
Her body shivers with goosebumps.
I feel a wicked grin spread across my face. I’m going to live out my fantasies—the thoughts of what I would do to her if I ever had her under me—the sexual cravings that could only be relieved by stroking myself off so many times while wishing she was there.
With the flutter of my tongue, the press of my lips and the pinch of my teeth, I work the flesh underneath the bend of her neck, over her shoulder and down the length of her arm. I pay attention to each hitched breath and tiny whimper as I swirl my tongue in the crease of her elbow and linger on her inner wrist.
As I go, I push my steel against the door of her pillow softness.
She whines, “Please, do it.”
“Hmm . . . I fully intend on it.”
“Now, Ryder. I want you inside of me now.”
At the sound of my name coming from her pouty lips I nearly cave. “Baby, anticipation is half the experience,” I say and she groans in frustration.
I move my head to her opposite arm and sink a love bite into the side of her bicep and pull gently. At that, she grinds her * into my shaft.
I’m going to lose it.
Quickly I maneuver myself so that, as she presses herself against me, she’s rubbing herself on my leg instead of along my dick. For good measure I slide my quad through her drenched folds.
“Cheater,” she accuses.
“Don’t argue with the guy in charge,” I tell her and suck each of her fingers into my mouth.
“Oh my God!”
I angle to bring those same sensations down the flow of her ribs, licking and kissing each one before I go back up for another tour of her firm tits. While massaging one with the palm of my hand, I tantalize the other; rubbing it with the overnight shadow of stubble that’s grown over my jaw, I swipe my wet tongue across the intimate flesh.
I remember when we were driving towards Shrevesport and her tits were confined underneath the thin fabric of the Longhorns t-shirt she was wearing, braless. How badly I had wanted to expose them and do just what I’m doing now.
My own wildfire surges through my core and into my dick. I don’t know how much longer I can wait before I explode—I wonder if it’s possible to come with no friction whatsoever because, truthfully, I feel like that would be no fucking problem.
I French her to the dip of her belly button.
“Let’s see how wet you are.” I curl my tongue into her belly button as I stroke my fingers through her *. “Oh Christ, you’re so fucking wet.”
She arches her loveliness up and rubs against my hand. I tickle through the delicate lotus and imagine her blossoming against my tongue.
Bringing my fingers to my mouth I say, “Rachel, open your eyes.”
When she does I lick her sweet nectar from my skin. The action makes me moan. “You taste so fucking amazing.”
“Oh, Ryder.”
The taste immediately intoxicates me, and I can’t wait any longer—I plunge my mouth over her heavenly heat. Ravishing her with my wet tongue, I dive into her opening and relish each swipe.
“You don’t have to . . .” she stutters. “I already—”