“Even better,” he says, and I smile as he lifts his body to lower himself between my open legs, guiding his stiffness into my wet opening. I arch my back, breathing into the feeling of him inside me, the fullness so familiar but also surprising each time, the same way a sunset is always beautiful, even though you’ve probably seen one every day of your life.
He takes my hands and stretches them above my head, holding my wrists to the pillow as his thrusts his cock into me slowly, deeply, the tip of it touching just the right place inside, teasing. My legs wrap around his hips, cradling him, pulling his body onto mine, all his weight on top of me, and I’m trapped under him, or protected by him, or maybe they’re the same thing when you trust someone. When he actually cares about you and you care about him. When you don’t fear that he’ll use his strength for anything other than keeping you happy, keeping you safe. If this is what it’s like to be Ryder’s captive, feeling the smoothness of his firm abs brushing my belly as he rocks in and out of me, lock me up and throw away the key. I surrender.
He releases my wrists and, taking me by my hips, turns me over onto my hands and knees. His cock glides in and out of my opening from behind, his hands cupping my breasts, gently pinching my nipples. He folds over me, resting his front on my back, and I can feel his heartbeat against my skin, rapid and even, like he’s running a race, and he’s winning.
“Forget Altitude,” he says. “This is the only work I want to do today. Everyday.”
“Fucking me is work?” I say, the words barely voiced, my breath raspy. We both sit back on our knees, the backs of my thighs on the front of his, and I slide up and down his hardness.
“Not hardly, tiger,” he says. He reaches across my waist, rubbing his fingers against my clit, and I open my knees wider, giving him full access. “Fucking you is paradise.”
He presses his thick cock right into the place inside me where I need it to be, where I love for it to be, while he moves his hand quickly against my clit, and I lean back against his chest, my head on his shoulder. He kisses my neck and whispers in my ear. “I need you.”
His admission sparks something in me and I come and come and come. He wraps his free arm tightly around me, like he’ll never let me go.
***
Maybe because most of my life I was busy working at my dad’s auto shop, or maybe because I was a little bit of a tomboy growing up, somehow I have managed to miss the whole yoga movement. Never so much as corpse-posed until tonight when Shelby took me to her class. Or actually, I guess I have, but I always just called it dozing off.
Post-workout, we walk down the block for smoothies.
“My treat,” Shelby says, “for devirginizing you.”
“How chivalrous,” I say, and she bows dramatically as we walk into the shop.
“So would you do it again?” she says.
“I think so,” I say. “I was surprised at how tight my muscles were.”
“Well, you’ve had a lot going on,” she says. “We carry that tension around with us, even if we think it’s invisible.”
I nod. Through the Altitude grapevine, Shelby heard that something had happened between Ryder and me Sunday night, but she didn’t know what. I filled her in while we waited for the class to start, even telling her about the final straw: two nights before I left, when Sebastian and I had a fight, a dumb, stupid, meaningless fight, about the way I folded his t-shirts (spoiler alert: I was doing it “wrong”) and he threw me into the bedroom wall. I managed to catch myself that time, turning in mid-air to land on my hands, my head safely pulled away. There were barely any bruises, which was the way Sebastian liked it. He didn’t want me to have too many souvenirs to help me remember what happened. And he didn’t like leaving any evidence.
Around us, the studio started to crowd with people, the space filling with chatter. But Shelby stayed quiet. She shook her head. “I don’t even know what to say.” She leaned over and hugged me, and I wondered how different my life in London would have been if I’d just known someone who could be a friend. If Sebastian hadn’t made sure to isolate me so that no one even knew I existed in the city.
Apparently he called me while we were in class. I saw three voicemails from Blocked in the queue, but I ignored them and tried to forget they were there.
The smoothie place is small, just a juice bar, really, and waiting in line I realize I recognize the back of the head of the guy ordering. “What’s Cash doing here?” I say.
“Where?” Shelby asks, glancing around.
“Up there,” I say. “Getting something very, very green.” Taking his smoothie, Cash turns toward the door—and us.
“Well, hello, ladies,” he says, his cheeks dimpling as he sips from his straw.
“What are you doing in this part of town?” Shelby says.
“Heard there was a good yoga studio nearby,” he says.
“You’re doing yoga in jeans and a t-shirt?” I say, taking a step forward as we move ahead in line.
“Don’t judge, Cassie,” he says. “Everyone’s practice is their own.”