It was fantasy. It was whimsicality. It was perfect.
Ryder watched me with those eyes of dark honey, his attention distracting as I got a little too close and accidentally sprayed his suit. I froze, the hiss of the can still ringing in the air.
Ryder glanced down, then back up at me, and laughed. “Is that how we’re doing it, huh?” he said, winking as he reached for one of the cans.
“Wait!” I squeaked. “It was an accident!”
But Ryder had already pressed down, sweeping across my chest with a burst of pink. I froze, shocked before I laughed louder, running for another can and spraying him in return.
The scent of paint hung thick between us as we moved, dodging, screeching on my part, until the space between us was alive with laughter and something heavier I refused to acknowledge.
Then his hand caught my wrist mid-swipe, and I stopped, my breath rough as he slowly removed his mask and then mine.
Paint clung to us in streaks of colour, a chaotic rainbow across plastic and skin. A splatter of blue traced Ryder’s cheekbone, and he stepped closer to me, the tension between us tightening like rope.
I didn’t stand a chance when his lips crashed into mine, and I didn’t stop him when he pushed me back until I was pressed to one of the support beams.
His kiss was urgent, fierce, and exactly what I’d expected, yet somehow still not enough.
I hated howmuch he affected me, how easily I fell for his infectious laughter and teasing dimples. But he wasn’t smiling now. The heat in his eyes burned when he pulled back, a tide pulling me under before I even thought to fight it.
I reached for his zip, impatient when it caught. He yanked it open, the plastic ripping as he shoved it below his hips before turning his attention to mine. It was a flurry of plastic and fabric until I stood there almost naked. I moaned when he wrapped his hand in my hair, fisting the length to tip my head back while his other hand gripped my thigh.
He picked me up, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist as my back bit into the harsh wood of the beam.
“Hold on to me,” he whispered as he bottomed out in one thrust, and I could do nothing but reach for his shoulder as he set a punishing rhythm.
I gasped, barely registering the fact that I was touching him during sex before pleasure crashed through me,fast and unforgiving. I’d forgotten just how big he was, the sharp stretch riding the line between pain and bliss. Every movement wasrough, deliberate, a raw collision of anger and need that sent tremors through my body.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet.
It was everything I shouldn’t want… and exactly what I did.
My scalp stung, adding to the overwhelming sensations. I hated how much I craved it, how much I needed him even when I swore I didn’t.
“You feel this?” Ryder growled, his mouth close to my ear, his breath hot against my neck. “What you do to me?”
I couldn’t answer, not when I didn’t trust my voice.
But the way my body responded, arching, trembling, and clenching around him gave me away.
“Say it,” he demanded, voice rough with restraint. “Tell me you’re mine.”
A broken sound slipped from my lips as he rolled his hips harder, his piercing hitting that spot again and again until I could barely concentrate through the pleasure.
Oh God, it was like he knew my body better than I did. The way he moved inside me, the pressure, the rhythm, it was unbearable in the best way. But it wasn’t enough.
“No,” I moaned, not willing to give in. Not when it was the only thing I had left.
His grip on my hair tightened, and the next thrust was brutal. Possessive, like my denial had snapped whatever thread of control he had left, and he wanted to punish me.
“You say that,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, sending shivers racing across my skin, “but look at you, about to come on my cock.”
Ryder
She was infuriating, my little artist. Still denying she was mine, even as she soaked my cock, body trembling like it couldn’t take any more.
She screamed my name as she came, her lips parting, which I claimed like the savage I was. Because I wasn’t done. Not yet. Not until she was ashaking, incoherent mess. Not until she admitted that this thing between us wasn’t just one sided.
