“Yes,” I whisper. “But I don’t care.”
“We’ll go slow,” he rasps, voice rough.
His fingers spread me apart, rubbing softly against my clit and making my breath come faster.
“Turn for me,” he murmurs.
I roll onto my back, sheets twisting, and he follows, hovering over me in the dark.
He props himself up on one arm and reaches for me with the other, fingers brushing my cheek, then my throat. His head dips. He kisses my forehead. My cheek. The corner of my mouth.
“Max,” he says, “I love you.”
It hits me right in the ribs, knocking the breath out of me. The words shouldn’t shock me, he’s proven it in a hundred ways. But hearing it anyway makes a bright feeling pop in my chest.
I swallow, fingertips sliding up his jaw, and whisper, “I know.” A beat. “But…thank you for saying it.”
He lifts his face and watches me for a second, lip twitching into a soft smile. Then he bends down, his mouth taking my nipple, warm and wet. I gasp and grab his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. He sucks gently, then harder, then eases off and kisses the ache away.
“Ryder,” I whisper.
“Mm?” he murmurs.
“I love you.”
He huffs out a short breath that’s half laugh, half ache. “Good,” he whispers against my skin.
He moves down my body slowly, kissing my stomach, my hip, the inside of my thigh. His stubble grazes sensitive skin, making my toes curl.
He spreads my legs apart with his hands, and I let my knees fall open.
The first touch of his tongue on my clit is excruciatingly gentle. I press my hand over my mouth to stifle the gasp that escapes me.
His tongue slides over me slowly, making circles, then flicks just right, and my whole body jolts. He doesn’t speed up, doesn’t chase my orgasm. He holds me at the edge and keeps me there with steady pressure, his rhythm never faltering.
My thighs tremble. My hips start to lift on their own.
His hand presses down firmly on my stomach. He hums against me, the vibration making my vision blur. Then he sucks lightly and my head falls back.
I’m so sensitive. Everything feels amplified—his tongue, the wet heat of his mouth, the way he keeps me right on the edge. I come with my hands fisted in the sheets and my legs shaking, breath tearing out of me in short cries. He presses soft kisses against my pussy and my inner thighs, soothing the oversensitivity until my body stops trembling.
Then he kisses my hip. My stomach. He climbs back up my body, sliding between my legs, his weight settling over me.
His mouth finds mine again, and I taste myself. His hand slides down between us. I feel him, hard and thick, against me. He drags the head of his cock through my slick heat slowly, coating himself, and then he pushes in.
Slow.
So slow I gasp.
I’m tender from earlier, but the pain mixes with pleasure as Ryder fills me. His size is impossible, but somehow it feels just right.
He pauses halfway, forehead dropping to my shoulder.
“Too much?” he asks, voice tight.
I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him closer.
“No,” I whisper. “More.”
