Stripped Bare (Stripped #1)

“West...” I gasped, grasping at the sheet and his hair. “God, West.”


“I love it when you call me by my proper name: God.” He laughed low as he dragged his mouth up my body and kissed me. My orgasm coated his lips, and he slid his hand up the outside of my thigh and gripped my ass. “You mean what you said earlier? You’re protected?”

“Yes,” I whispered, feeling his cock twitch against my inner thigh. “And…clean.”

“Tell me I can fuck you like this,” he whispered back, into my ear. He reached between us, wrapped his fingers around his cock, and rubbed the head of it against my sensitive clit. “Tell me I can fuck you and feel you properly.”

“You can fuck me like this.” I trailed my nails up his back and met his eyes. “I want you to fuck me like this.”

It was as though my words, whenever I gave him permission to do something, stirred an instinct in him that made him move without hesitation. Within a few seconds, he had my legs around his waist, his cock positioned at my wet pussy. Then he rubbed his fingers down over my clit and dipped them inside me.

Next thing I knew, he’d replaced his fingers with his cock and I had my head thrown back in relief as he was finally inside me.

He grabbed my waist and pushed me up the bed, an action that pulled him out of me. No sooner had I thought it than he’d moved his body over mine and pushed his cock back inside me. His hands slid along my arms until he linked his fingers through mine and pinned my hands above my head.

He wasn’t joking about it.

He pounded into me. He hadn’t been joking about the hard, either. He fucked me so roughly that my breath caught several times, but I loved every moment. I loved the desperation I felt as he kissed me. Loved the need I felt as he gripped my hands.

Loved the way he fucked me, unapologetically hard, keeping every promise he’d made.

Sweat coated my skin in a thin sheen. Goose bumps covered my arms, and my muscles clenched on and off, my legs tightening around his waist. I wanted to hold him against him, make him push deeper, harder.

I needed it.

I tilted my hips up, and I got it.

“Dirty girl,” he said against my mouth, his voice rough and cracking.

My pussy clenched as he thrust hard.

“Squeeze my cock. Go on, Mia. Squeeze my cock so hard you make yourself come. I know you want to. I know you want to feel my cock deep inside you when you do.”

I tried to swallow, but I couldn’t. His words—oh god, they were sending me over the edge, and I couldn’t help but do what he said.

“Fuck, your tight little pussy feels so good,” he groaned, breathless.

Surprise flicked through me as he rolled to the side, pulling out of me and pushing me onto my side. He pulled me back against him, lifted my leg, and rammed himself back inside me. He curled one arm beneath my neck and grabbed both my wrists so I couldn’t move. Then he slipped his other hand over my hip and pressed two fingers against my clit.

At this angle, he was deeper. Harder. Rougher.

“West...”

“That’s it, angel. Come over my cock.” He rubbed my clit so hard that I simultaneously tried to push his cock inside me and his hand away from me.

I had no idea how he was fucking me so thoroughly and playing with my clit, but I didn’t care, I could only see the end, feel it as it built, breathe through it as he whispered dirty things in my ear about his cock and my pussy, whispered how good it felt around him, how hard he was going to come.

I rode it out as it hit. I had no choice—he was still pressed against my clit, still fucking me, still chasing his own. I moaned and screamed his name, clamping down around him until he finally gave in and slowed, coming so hard that I actually felt his cock emptying inside me.

I dropped my head forward, my hair falling over me and sticking to my face. West released my wrists and wrapped his arms around me, holding me against him. His hot, shallow breaths danced across my skin when he buried his face against the back of my neck, his stubble rubbing against my shoulder.

I didn’t care. I’d done what I’d promised myself I wouldn’t, but I didn’t care about that, either.

West Rykman was addictive; his very touch was an aphrodisiac. His kiss was a deadly drug, and I was afraid I was hooked on him.

“Mia,” he whispered, kissing the curve of my shoulder. He propped himself up on his elbow, his cock pulling out of me, and moved the hair that covered my face. His eyes were heavy lidded as I peered up at him. “What are you doing to me, angel?”

“Probably the same thing you’re doing to me,” I answered softly before swallowing. I rolled over onto my back and softly stroked my fingers along the curve of his jaw. “And I don’t know that, either.”

He stared down into my eyes and took my hand in his. He brought it to his lips and kissed my fingers. Then he dropped his mouth to mine and kissed me so tenderly that I forgot I shouldn’t want him.