I raise a tentative hand and trace the strong, square line of his jaw. Stubble rasps against my fingers, sending a thrill of pure, molten desire pooling between my legs. He deepens the kiss, drawing me even closer to his hard body, gathering me up into his arms as though I might slip away at any second. I don't struggle against him, too intoxicated by the feeling do to anything but draw myself as tight against him as I can manage. My questing hand winds into the mess of thick, dark hair at the base of his neck, tugging lightly while the other comes to rest on his broad shoulder. It feels like trying to seduce a mountain. He makes me feel minuscule in comparison, a feeling I've missed since having Bryan.
He groans against my mouth. I take full advantage, skimming my tongue along his bottom lip, delving into his mouth. He tastes like bourbon, and the caramel notes that underlie the sharp taste thrill me. I can't help a small moan of my own. He doesn't stay still for long, his arms tightening like steel bands around me, his tongue brushing against mine in a sensual stroke. His kiss becomes harsher, more urgent. He kisses me like he's trying to climb inside me.
And with that thought, I can't focus on anything else. My core aches with need for him. I want to feel him thick and hard between my legs. I know somehow that it will be earth shaking. There's so much masculine energy rolling off him on the best of days, drawing my eyes almost against my will. The ache increases with every throbbing beat of my heart. At any moment I expect to collapse into him, my heart unable to take the onslaught.
He breaks away from me just long enough to exhale my name. "Oh God, Cleo. I shouldn't have..."
"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Ryker Fenton."
His eyes dart down to meet mine, an unexpected vulnerability in their depths. He expects me to pull away, to put him at arm's length get again. A crushing weight of shame settles onto my shoulders. All this time, I've shunned him, looked everywhere but at him, when he was the best possible thing that could happen to me. I tug him closer by my grip on his hair, so our lips are only centimeters apart.
"No more talking, I breathe. Just kiss me, Ryker."
He does just that, erasing that distance between us in seconds. His lips descend on mine again, a hungry sound escaping him when I kiss back. He's still nestled between my legs, his waist almost impossible to fit between the gap. Still, I wrap them around his hips as best I can, pulling myself flush to him in every way possible. Only the thin barrier of my panties and the material of his slacks separate us. I can feel him pressed hard against the fly of his pants.
A swell of pride almost chokes me. This is all my doing? I've brought him to this state?
I know I'm not unattractive, but it's been so long since I've had confirmation of it. Between the stretch marks and the added weight, I've decided that no man will look my way again. Ryker doesn't seem to care as he lifts my shirt to skim his fingers across my belly. I squirm self-consciously. If there's ever a moment he'll pull away, it's now, when he sees the imperfections on my body.
If he notices, he doesn't show it. His hand settles just beneath one breast, tracing the underside. I was thrilled that I wasn't able to find a strapless bra in the pile of clothing I'd packed. My nipples pucker in response to his touch, and he notices. A low, masculine chuckle rumbles out of him.
"You like that, hm?"
"Touch me, Ryker, please."
In response he draws away, staring down at the shirt with pursed lips. Seconds later, he seizes the bottom of the shirt, jerking it apart. Buttons go flying, skittering across the carpet and out of sight. A soft cry of protest leaves my lips.
"Ryker, that was your shirt!"
"I don't give a damn."
His eyes rove my chest, taking in the flush that's crept along my skin. He cups one breast in a rough hand, brushing his thumb gently along the swell of it.
"So goddamn beautiful," he breathes.
Then his lips are on me, the warmth of his mouth closing around one sensitive bud. I cry out again, spine arching in ecstasy. Both hands find their way into his hair this time, pulling as the sensations mount higher.
"Ryker, oh God, Ryker..."
Just when I think I can't take a second more, he moves the soft warmth of his mouth to my neglected breast, giving it the same treatment. His tongue laves me, the skin growing taught beneath the onslaught. Each stroke of his tongue sends electric tingles of desire straight to my pussy. The material is drenched. I may have already ruined them.
Ryker's hands and mouth explore my body, touching and tasting me everywhere. He dips his tongue into my navel and it's almost ticklish. When his mouth trails lower I know just what he's going to do. I shaved just this evening, on the off chance he might see me. It had seemed a distant dream at the time. Now it was a reality, and my head spins at how things had changed in just an hour.
He hooks a finger into the waistband of my panties, drawing them down my legs slowly, drawing the torture out. I need some part of him inside me right the hell now. He grins when he balls them into his fist and tosses them away.
"You're so wet already."
How can I be anything but, when he's looking at me like that? When his kisses are a drugging thing? I don't have long to respond though, because he parts my thighs seconds later and then his mouth is on me.
I didn't know it was possible to make the sounds that fall from my lips. I've never felt this, ever. Damian was all about demanding head, but never really reciprocated. Except for shoving two sausage-like fingers inside me now and then, he never paid much attention to my pleasure.
Every stroke of his tongue has me arching into him, trying to get as close as I can to that lovely appendage. I throb with the need to have him inside me. The pleasure is almost painful in its intensity. I teeter on the edge of something I've only ever achieved with my own hand, years ago before my aunt caught me at it and shamed me for doing something so filthy. What Ryker is doing to me now feels far from dirty. It feels right, like we are two puzzle pieces meant to fit together.
He must sense just how desperate I am, because he slides two fingers into me carefully. Again, it's like nothing I've ever felt. Damian's nails always cut at me, until I felt raw. Ryker knows just how to touch me, stroking something that I didn't even know was there. With a half-scream I come apart in his arms, and I fear I might tear his hair out. My orgasm is hard and explosive. White flashes before my eyes and I thrash against his hard body.
When I finally come down, my body is a languid, supple thing. I doubt I can stand at the moment, even if I were inclined to try. Ryker's eyes meet mine, and despite the recent orgasm, my pussy clenches once more with want. God, how can a man this perfect be meant for me? He licks his lips, and his eyes close as if he's savoring the taste of me.
"You're perfect," he breathes. "Every inch of you. I knew you would be."
