He’s so close and he smells so fucking good, like cinnamon and whiskey, an alluring cocktail I’m at risk of becoming addicted to.
Ryker shifts slightly, using his free hand to push my thighs apart and give himself more room to work.
Every move he makes is slow and deliberate, telling me without words that everything stops if I say the word.
“Will you let me take the edge off, Siren?”
My eyes fall closed, that nickname on his lips does things to me. The first time he used it, I wasn’t in the position to think anything of it. But now? Now that word alone pushes me closer to the edge.
“You need it so badly. I bet your perfect pussy is weeping for me, isn’t she, baby?”
I nod, unable to find my voice to respond as his fingers press harder against my clit.
There are two layers between him and the sensitive bundle of nerves, and yet this feels better than anything I’ve done to myself over the years.
Every move is full of confidence, his intense gaze watching my every reaction as he maps what makes me squirm.
“There’s my good girl,” he croons, leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of my mouth, and for the first time in almost a decade, I long for someone to kiss me. To take my mouth and make me forget all the reasons this is a bad idea. “Can I takethese off you?” His free hand slips just beneath the band of my sweatpants.
I swallow heavily but find myself nodding before I can talk myself out of it.
There is a never-ending list of reasons this is a terrible idea, but I can’t bring myself to ask him to stop, not when he plays my body like he’s done it a million times before.
“Nothing happens that you don’t want. You say the word, and I’ll stop, okay?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
He gives me a satisfied smirk and quickly tugs my sweatpants down my legs, leaving them pooled around my ankles.
His fingers find my clit immediately, and he lets out a deep rumble. “You’re so wet for me, Siren. Your mind is trying to tell you this is a bad idea, but your body is desperate for me. Desperate for someone to take care of it. Isn’t that right?”
The pressure increases, sending my hips toward his hand of their own accord and earning me a rough chuckle.
“So responsive, Chloe.” My name on his lips sounds like a prayer, the reverence in his voice pushing me closer to the edge than I should be right now.
I try to reason with myself that it’s just because the only orgasms I’ve allowed myself for so long have come at my own hand, but it’s a lie.
Ryker’s skilled fingers move over the damp fabric, teasing me with soft touches as he explores me through my plain black panties.
If I’d known this was going to happen, I at least would have worn a thong.
My hips shift again, searching for more even as my mind tells me we should stop this.
What can I say? I’m a walking, talking contradiction.
“You need more, Siren?”
I nod.
“I need your words, baby. Tell me exactly what you need, and it’s all yours.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
RYKER
NOW
Boss is going to fucking kill me.
