“Ryder,” I moan.
“What, baby?” he asks against my skin.
“I need you.”
He slides his hand across the front of my hip and nestles it between my legs, finding my wetness and my clit. His fingertips are gentle but hit the perfect spot. “You want this?” he purrs against my ear, sending shock waves through my system as his finger circles my clit.
I ache to be stuffed, pounded into by him, as his fingers work their magic, driving me closer to an orgasm. Without my having to beg, Ryder lines up his cock to my opening and pushes inside, filling me completely.
I arch my back, adjusting to the sweet bite of his deliciously large length and girth.
Ryder’s arm comes around my middle to palm my breast, while his other hand works my clit in perfect precision.
All thoughts leave my mind as he pounds into me, moving me upward and onto my tiptoes with each thrust. I’m consumed by the way he makes me feel, the pleasure he delivers.
“I love your cunt,” he whispers against my ear.
I shudder with pleasure from his words as he drives into me, sending me closer to the edge. I want to spread my legs but can’t. The damn leggings on the bottoms of my legs are making it impossible. But instead of struggling, I give in, taking what he’s giving me.
“Ryder,” I moan again, so close to the edge.
“You want to come, baby?”
“Yes,” I answer, my voice hoarser than before.
“How do you want it?”
“Harder,” I tell him, pushing my ass backward.
“Fuck my cock, Gracie.”
I moan at the thought and do as he commands. I use my palms for leverage, slamming myself against his length, taking him as deep as I can. He works his fingers faster, pressing harder with each passing thrust of my body down his shaft.
As the orgasm starts to build, my pace quickens, trying to push myself over the edge. But I can’t quite get there on my own. As if he can read my mind, Ryder flattens his fingers between my legs, swiping his hand back and forth so hard and fast, I can’t stop the ecstasy from crashing over me.
My breath ceases as the air escapes my lungs, and my muscles seize from the overwhelming sensation of being pleasured. I slow my pace, wanting to savor the feeling of this moment. Ryder takes over, chasing the same pleasure as he drives me straight into another orgasm that threatens to turn my legs into jelly.
He tightens his arm around my middle, holding me to him and keeping me upright as he moans, cresting and dipping through his pleasure.
The only sounds in the shop are our heaving breathing as we try to right ourselves after something so perfect.
“Fuck,” Ryder whispers.
I peer over my shoulder, still bent over the desk. “What?”
“I didn’t use a condom.” He gives me a pained and apologetic smile.
“It’s okay. Doctor said it’ll be damn near impossible for me to get pregnant without intervention.”
“Damn near isn’t zero,” he says.
“With my luck, it’s zero, Ryder. Don’t worry so much.”
“Okay,” he says, drawing out the word. “But remember, my sperm is no joke, Gracie.”
I roll my eyes at the ridiculousness of his statement. Every guy likes to think his sperm is somehow magical and superhuman.
“I think we’ll be okay. I have a better chance of hitting the lottery than getting knocked up by you.”
