“You’re so fucking pretty when you come.”
The rasp in his voice, the hunger there, sends butterflies through my veins. Their wings flap, making me tremble harder than the aftershock of the orgasm.
Grasping my waist, he flips me over, straddling my thighs. His long cock pokes me from the back. We’re both misted with sweat, warm to the touch.
“Again,” he demands, leaning over me.
He doesn’t give me time to come down from the high. He doesn’t finish, either. I thought he’d follow me into the inviting abyss the moment my legs stopped shaking...
He doesn’t. He thrusts in slowly, his lips hovering over my forehead, and then he straightens up, unhooking my leg from over his shoulder.
“I don’t think I can go again,” I mumble into the pillow.
Ryder huffs, the sound amused as his cock slides back into me. He gathers my hair into a ponytail, angling my head so I’m looking over my shoulder at him.
“You’ll go again. You’ll come as many times as I want you to, and you’ll take it like the good girl I know you can be.”
He sinks to his full length inside me, the new position allows him to drive in even further. The head of his cock drags along my G spot, and I see stars on every thrust.
“This is too much,” I whisper, fisting the sheets. “I can’t take much more.”
“You can. Youwill.” He resumes the frantic, deep thrusts that scoot me up the bed and pulls my hair, making me arch until I have to brace on my elbows. “Look at you,” he grunts, one hand on my hip, the other grasping my throat, fingers splayed wide open. “Taking every inch like a good girl. Who knew you’d be so good at submitting?”
His parted lips hover by my ear. I feel every hard breath, hear every grunt and every growl vibrating his chest. I could come just listening to the sounds he makes. Primal, feral... like a hungry beast that’s trapped its mate.
“I want another one, Bianca. Don’t hold it.” His chest brushes my back every time he hits home, the friction so impossibly perfect it makes my head spin.
I love the way he changes the tempo. He moves fast for a few thrusts, then pauses so deep I feel him in my tummy, and his consequent moves are calmer, slower.
It’s like he wants every millimeter inside me, like he can’t get deep enough. The sensation, the pace change, is overwhelming. It makes me want to crawl under his skin and stay there.
Another orgasm rumbles through me. Before I stop moaning, I’m on my back again. Ryder drinks every sound I make, moving my limp hands to his back. He forces my legs around his waist, and pushes himself into me, our kisses growing more desperate. Just like his hands skimming my face, my waist, my hips.
It’s a battle. A battle of desire and a race for pleasure. As if there’s money riding on how fast he can get me off.
“Fuck,” he grunts, burying his face in the crook of my neck. “You’re perfect, baby.”
A whimper leaves my lips. The sensory overload makes me feel like I’ve left my body. I want more and I want to rest. A war rages inside me, one part dreading the end, one dying to curlmyself into his chest and sleep. I’m balancing on the tightrope between reality and oblivion when the next orgasm builds.
It’s too much.
It’s not enough.
His exhales drift over my cheeks, my temple, my forehead. I’m drowning in his closeness, in those frantic movements, in the desperation to touch, feel, and exist this close.
My eyes water. I’m overstimulated. I don’t know where’s up and where’s down. Every time he hits my G spot and pushes me closer to another orgasm, my body tingles, the sensation bordering on pain.
Pleasant, all-consuming pain.
“Enough,” I rasp, dragging my fingers down his back when the next orgasm threatens to knock me out. “Please...”
“Shh,” he hums, kissing my forehead, his fingers tucking my hair over my ear. “Shh... it’s okay, you’re okay.” He fucks me harder, my back not far off making a perfectU. “Just one more. Give me one more and you can rest.”
I nod, pulling him down for a kiss, but my lips don’t work. Ryder gathers me into his chest, holding me close, his body pressing into me, his cock powering inside like his life depends on making me come again.
The orgasm floods my senses, and his moves become jerky. He hits so deep I yelp and cling to him, drowning in my release. Everything ceases to exist. My vision turns black. I can’t feel anything save for his body against mine, his warmth, the overwhelming feeling of being stripped bare.
It’s as if my nerve endings are on display, every brush of his skin sending ripples of unbearable pleasure through my system.
