I giggle because that command is so impossible. I’m hyperaware that I’m naked beneath his shirt. One of his hands is nestled on the small of my back, and I can’t stop thinking that if he moves it just a little, he’d find my bare ass. And if he roamed just a bit farther, he’d find my bare pussy.
I really need his hand to do that.
Really, really.
I wriggle, trying to assuage the ache between my thighs.
He grips my hips, making the ache worse.
“Stop that,” he growls.
“I can’t help it. I need loving,” I say with a laugh.
He sighs, a deep, aggrieved sound. “Remember when I retracted my statement and claimed you’re never a menace? Well, I’m retracting my retraction.”
“Too late. It’s out there in the world. There are no take-backs. And it’s okay. Like I said earlier, I’m an independent woman. If you won’t help me, I can help myself.”
I say it because I enjoy telling him outrageous things. But I’m usually all talk, minimal action. This time, though, it’s different. His eyes flare at my words. And just the thought of pleasuring myself while he watches makes me incredibly turned on.
I move my hand over the hard, unmistakable outline of his dick. Then I brush it, just enough to make us both crazy. He groans.
I turn in his arms so I’m on my side. My hand tracks down my body, over my shirt, and dips below to my pussy. I raise the shirt, not enough that he can see everything, but just enough that my upper thighs are in full view and that he knows exactly what I’m doing.
I touch myself. While I watch him and he watches me. Our eyes connect. I bite my lip to hold back a moan. His dark gaze follows to where my hand disappeared beneath my shirt. I play with myself, soft and light, with one hand. And with the other, I undo the buttons until my breasts are exposed, and I play with my nipple, tweaking it. I’m slick as I find my clit and tease it.
It feels both wrong and oh-so right to be doing this in front of Ryder.
“Fuck, Daisy,” Ryder breathes, his voice tortured. He catches my eye, and I watch him as he shifts lower, then lower, until his face is parallel with my pussy and hand, only blocked by the hem of the shirt I’m wearing. He lifts it away, and I’m exposed to him fully. I dip one finger into me slowly, with his eyes, his mouth, right there. So close, I can feel his hot breath on me.
In a swift motion, he grabs my wrist. He shifts my hand, my finger, so it slips out, leaving me aching and empty.
And then he brings that finger to his mouth. And tastes.
Sharp need shoots through me.
His tongue replaces where my finger had been, making me gasp and shift my hips in pleasure. At first, he plays my pussy as lightly, as teasingly, as I was playing myself. Flicking his tongue over me again and again before drinking deep.
I run my hands through his hair, holding him fast, though it doesn’t seem like he’s going anywhere, maybe ever, with the way he’s moaning my name, his breath gusting over my aching center. As he works my clit with his mouth, he fingers me, gently at first, and then with an insistent rhythm that drives me wild.
I’m shaking. “Ryder,” I cry.
He adjusts his position, adding two fingers and sucking on my clit, and that’s all it takes. I’m as high as I’ve ever been. It holds for seconds or minutes. I’m poised, mindless, grinding into him, crying his name, and then I shatter.
When I come down from that highest of highs, Ryder has undone all my buttons, exposing my entire body to him. He’s running a hand over my hips, waist, breasts, his touch reverent.
“You are so fucking beautiful.”
And just like that, my high is back. Somewhere in my brain, I’m squealing in disbelief.Ryder just ate me out. Ryder had his mouth on my pussy. Ryder called me beautiful.
Even with almost possibly dying, I’ve had a really good night.
The best. Tops.
“I thought you were going to wait until morning,” I say sassily, stretching my well-pleased body.
He holds himself over me. I admire the strength in his arms, the tattoos running up his biceps and across to his pecs.
“You didn’t play fair. You were counting on me not being able to resist you.”
