‘That too.’ It’s his turn to wink.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
RYAN
Even the knowledge that there are six of my security detail outside the front door at any given time doesn’t prevent me from making Sasha scream behind it. The bedroom is too far away in this ridiculous palatial mansion.
Making her come, anyway and every way is incurably addictive. I need to hear her desperate, delirious moans this second.
‘I would get you to put on that dress again, but apart from the fact I don’t have the patience, it would be a shame to ruin it before you got to actually wear it.’ Peeling her t-shirt from her poster-perfect body, my face dips to her collarbone, then her breasts. Ripping the white lace down, her pert, full breasts stiffen in response. Creamy coloured and smooth as silk, I could worship them all fucking day.
She reaches for my buckle.
‘Not yet, baby. Not yet.’ We’ve barely got the front door closed and already my hard-on is unbearable, but the carnal craving to hear her cry my name, to feel the sharp tug of fingers in my hair as I taste her, trumps my own throbbing need every time.
‘Ryan, I need you.’ Desperation sounds in her every word. So much that I almost abandon my original plan. Almost.
‘I need to taste you. I need you on my mouth. Are you ready?’ I tug her jeans down to find the skimpiest scrap of white lace.
‘Going for the good-girl look, were you?’ Yanking it to the side, my fingers part her, gliding over the most sensitive parts of her. ‘There’s nothing innocent about what you’ve got there, no matter how you dress it up, sexy girl. I’m going to remind you just how good a bad boy can make you feel.’
Muffled cries resound against my throat as I lift one of her legs and position it round my waist giving me unlimited access to my favourite place. Backed against the wall, she couldn’t get away from me if she wanted to. Judging by the slickness on my fingers, I’d say she wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world.
‘You’re driving me crazy.’ Hot, lust-filled eyes bore up at mine.
‘That’s the plan, sweetheart. But don’t worry. I’m going to make it worth your while, I promise.’
She clenches and shudders at my touch. ‘You always do.’
‘I love playing with you. Touching you. Tasting you. You’re mine, you know that don’t you?’ Something about being here, back in the States, back in the limelight, sends an uneasiness through me. It’s like a reminder of what life was like before Sasha became a part of it again. Bright and glitzy from the outside looking in, but seriously lacking in any real depth. The need to possess her, every inch of her, claws at me. And as much as it’s a physical reaction, it’s an emotional one too.
She nods, her tongue fervently pushing against mine. A glistening sheen dusts her luminous skin and I fall to my knees, taking her in my mouth. Her cry of relief is the sweetest sound I ever heard. Draping her leg over my shoulder, I support her weight while my tongue relentlessly seeks her pleasure.
Gripping my hair, she thrusts herself against my tongue as her quads tighten and tremble. ‘Ryan, I… fuck, you’re so fucking good at that. I think… I’m…’
‘Give it up for me, baby.’ My hands grip her backside, tilting her pelvis further into my face and she cries out my name as her body peaks and spectacularly shatters in my mouth.
Before she can recover, I stand, pulling her legs round my waist and fumbling with the buckle of my belt. It’s too much effort to take my trousers off. The need to be inside her is all-consuming.
Fire pricks and burns in every single cell of my body as I shimmy my jeans low enough to get free. To reach my final destination. Amongst the greatest luxury in the world, being able to luxuriate in the lust of the only woman I’ve ever loved, is the ultimate indulgence.
Following two more rounds of mind-blowing sex, the ringing of my phone rouses me from a coma-like sleep.
Nestled beneath the silk sheets, with the glistening lights of the city hidden behind the finest blackout blinds money can buy, Sasha stirs next to me. Between the sex, the shopping and the jetlag, I’d swear she’d happily stay there all night. But we have somewhere else we need to be – again.
Four thousand people are waiting to see Ryan Cooper, multi-platinum-selling singer/songwriter. It’s like having a split personality, or an alter ego.
Disassociated to the man everyone else seems to love, I don’t even know who he is. It’s not imposter syndrome – I’ve lived too long with the mask to feel that way. It’s just an odd sort of distance between my true self, and the one the media and the public think they know so well.
I can flick it on and off like a switch, but it can be so draining projecting that part of me for too long.
What the world sees is merely a tiny sliver of me. One dimensional. The most polished one. The side that oozes confidence and presence.
Maybe it’s self-preservation? Keeping the real side private?
The only time I feel utterly myself is with Sasha, and Jayden to some extent, but that’s very different. Though both of them knew me before I hit the big time, so I guess that’s no surprise.
As much as Jayden’s Jayden, I know he’d kill for me. When he gives me a hard time it’s usually because I need a kick up the arse. Though there’s only a year between us, he’s sort of become paternal towards me since Dad lost the plot and started drinking as soon as we got to the States.
