Riley
Isit in the armchair in my bedroom, wrapped in a towel as Ian takes off the old sheets and replaces them with clean ones. I watch him moving around without embarrassment, wearing just a towel around his waist, his wet hair plastered to his forehead and a serious yet tender expression on his face that could crack my heart in two.
I bite my lip at the sight of his muscles flexing as he makes my bed. I can’t take my eyes off of him or ask him what he’s still doing here because I have this huge weight on my chest, crushing me.
He turns to look at me and embarrassment flushes through me.
“All done,” he says coming towards me, and all of sudden, I close up, drawing my legs into my chest.
He kneels down on the carpet next to me and lifts my chin up with two fingers. “Riley,” he whispers, and the sound of my name on his lips is the sweetest, most tender sound I’ve ever heard. I close my eyes, praying I don’t cry.
Ian sighs, before slipping an arm under my legs and the other one behind my shoulders and lifting me up. As I near his body I stiffen in his arms; then he rests me down on the bed and covers me with the duvet. He looks at me for a few seconds before turning to leave so I jump up and grab his hand.
Ian freezes in place, his back to me.
“S-stay,” I beg him in a shaky voice.
He turns slowly and his eyes nail me to the wall. They’re so clear that I can almost see myself in them, for the first time, as I really am.
He lets go of my hand and walks around the bed. I hear the blanket moving and the mattress sink under his weight, then I feel nothing but a warmth I’ve waited for and wanted for so long, the kind of heat that could warm up everything it touches.
His arm wraps around my waist and he pulls me in to him. My back is pressed against his chest and I find myself holding my breath for a few seconds as I feel his erection rubbing against my buttocks.
Then his lips are on my shoulder and I shudder at the tenderness of his touch; it frightens me, because I’m starting to hope, to dream, to believe.
In him.
“I’m not going anywhere unless you ask me to,” he whispers into my ear.
“You already have before. You’ll do it again.”
He pulls me in tighter to him as if by doing so, he could erase the words that I just said.
“I couldn’t now. I’m in too deep.”
His words are sweet and whispered over my still sensitive skin and my heart, which has been reduced to a pile of small fragments.
I find myself wanting something for myself. A man, this man; wanting his hands on my body, to feel him inside me and breathe the same air as him. Someone I can share my thoughts, my space and my fears with.
I’ve never felt this safe, wanted and protected in my life. I’ve never been so desperate to have the scent of a man on me.
I stroke his arm with my hand and feel him sigh heavily against my neck. He holds me tighter and then slowly rises up towards my chest and hugs me so tightly and possessively and I’m afraid of welling up again.
“Riley,” he whispers again, giving me chills. “I can’t stand it. I knew that if I touched you once, like this, I wouldn’t be able to control myself,” he continues and I feel the proof of it in his growing erection right between my legs. “I want you again,” his tone is desperate and has an immediate effect on me.
I instinctively pull back my hips: an unspoken invitation to let him slide into me and take me again.
He squeezes my nipple hard between his fingers and starts playing with it, while the other hand slides between my thighs. I arch my back impatiently, hoping that he’ll put an end to this madness and get inside me as quickly as possible. He slides two fingers into me and a moan escapes my lips while I close my eyes and let myself go to his touch.
He uses his knee to open my legs wide enough to feel his erection push against my clit.
“Say it – or I swear to God, I’m not going to do it, Riley.”
“Ian…”
“Tell me.”
“Please, I need it.”
