He doesn’t stop, seems like he’d keep going indefinitely if I didn’t tug him up my body, fumbling at his clothes as they abrade my over-sensitized skin.
He makes quick work of his shirt, jeans, and briefs while I reach for a condom from my purse. He climbs back over me, moving like a jungle cat, the undulation of his muscles turning me into a Neanderthal, so basic in my mindless attraction to the display of sheer strength.
He takes the small square packet from my hand, ripping it with trembling hands and rolling the condom on in record time. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
“We’ve been together all day,” I say.
He notches the tip of his erection inside me, eyelids fluttering shut at how fucking right it feels. Or am I projecting? “We’ve beenworkingall day. But my thoughts have been”—he slides deeper—“very NSFW.”
I gasp at his entry, my pussy fastening tight around him. Like it’s been waiting for this—for him—to feel complete. Exactly as it should be.
“Goddamn,” he rasps, snaking his arms around me, gathering me so close that my breasts crush against his chest. “You feel so perfect. I want to fuck you forever, baby.”
His words tie my throat up in knots. My heart beats so hard against my sternum, I’m sure he can feel it against his own. I’m very aware of my legs wound around his hips, holding him so fixedly to my body that he can barely pull out before driving back into me again. Very aware that he seems reluctant to pull out at all, as though any space between us has personally wronged him and he’s seeking revenge by eliminating it entirely.
Very aware of the wordsbabyandforeverlingering in the air like smoke from a burning fuse.
I unwind my legs, drawing my knees up. Giving him better access.
Relinquishing attachment.
He made a promise, and Ryan is a man of his word.
“Hard,” I say.
He rises up on his elbows, the sound of his lips de-suctioning from my neck audible in the quiet room, and looks down at me, a question in his eyes. Is he surprised I’m cashing in on what I was promised?
Or does he know I’m responding to the words he just uttered?
I school my face into a sultry pout, my eyes heavy-lidded. Trying another tack, I implore him again. “Please will you fuck me hard, sir?”
His gaze narrows, studying me intently. Then, a quirk in his lips shows he’s willing to play along. For now.
“At your command,” he says, drawing back and thrusting with such force it takes me a second to get a breath.
I asked for it but wasn’t prepared. Even digging my heels into the mattress and bracing one hand against the headboard is no defense against the onslaught of Ryan’s cock. He pounds into me with such delicious roughness that I’m driven up the bed, his mouth everywhere—on my lips, my neck, my shoulders and breasts, like he can’t get enough. Like he wants to imprint the taste of me on his tongue.
Forever, baby.
The sensations come from every angle. The friction in my pussy and against my clit; the suction on my skin; the bounce of the mattress under my back; the weight of Ryan’s body on top of mine, pinning me with a force so solid, so certain, that it causes something squishy and undefined to crowd my chest.
“Ryan.” His name catches in my throat.
He stops immediately. “Too much?”
“No, it’s…it’s not that,” I say.Why did I even say anything?
I feel so safe, somehow, coveted, his body wrapped around mine like armor. I have to remind myself that this is temporary. That I don’t want it to be anything else.
He doesn’t move, concern gathering in his forehead. “Are you okay? Ana, I’m sorry, I—”
He starts to pull out but I yank him back, my nails digging into his ass. God, there is no fucking give, even there. “No, I want it,” I say. There’s no part of me that wants him to stop, or slow down, orgo easy on me. If anything, I want him to do the opposite—pound me so rough I can’t walk straight, can’t think about anything beyond how to get air into my lungs. “I want you to go even harder.”
He watches me for a moment, breathing deeply. Understanding seems to spread across his features as all tenderness evaporates from his face, replaced by that old forbidding frown.
He pulls out brusquely, kneeling up. I feel so empty suddenly, hollowed out, devoid of the very thing I need. Just as I’m about to protest, to plead, to beg for him to fill me again—to tell him I don’t know what’s happening inside my head, but I do know there’s no world in which he doesn’t belong inside me—he flips me over onto my stomach. I barely register the change in position before he pulls my hips up, tucks a pillow beneath them, and drives into me from behind, so deep his firm stomach smacks against the swell of my ass.
“This how you want it?” he rasps in my ear. “So hard you can’t think past it? Can’t feel anything but the pound of my cock inside you.”
