Page 133 of Praying for Thunder

When I felt her legs releasing me, I tried to capture her with my mouth closing around hers. But there was no stopping her. On her feet, she kissed me. It was weird to notice she had grown a couple of inches, putting her around 5’ 3”. It was even more bewildering when her fingers found the rim of my t-shirt and lifted, her lips pulling from mine to find my stomach.

My chest heaving was in my sight as I watched her kiss my abs. I thought I’d pass out when those fantastic lips traveled up to my chest. And, I didn’t think I could breathe when she pulled a nipple into her mouth and sucked.

“Ry-Ry-Ry…”

Her tongue swiped the other nipple. “Yes?”

“I-I-I…”

Her teeth scraped my skin. “You?”

“I-I-I…”

She started unbuckling my belt and jeans. “Take off ya cut.”

My arms obeyed. “Okay.”

The leather hit the wooden floor.

Rya continued to remove my shirt, struggling with my long arms. She giggled. “This isn’t how I imagined this.”

I helped get the shirt off me, it too, hitting the floor. Then, “Hey,” I pulled her to me, “is this what’s happening? Something you’ve imagined?” Her cheeks flushed and she looked away, having me tightening my hold. “Rya?”

She nibbled on the tip of my finger. “I…”

I teased, as she had me, “You?”

Rya rushed, “You lived with bikers. I’m not stupid. I don’t know how to compare to who you’ve been with.”

Damn, you’re beautiful. “If you try to compete with or be something they were to me, then you wouldn’t be my Rya.” I kissed her forehead. “What’s in there and,” I placed a palm to her chest, “in here, is what I want most from you.” My throat tightened as I tried to make her understand how incomparable she truly was. “That part of you is who I married when I was a little boy.” My voice cracked. “That part of you is who the man I am now wants to marry. Forever, Rya.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, but I knew it wasn’t sadness this time.

It was… love.

I nodded. “Everlasting.”

On those adorable tiny toes, she rose up and kissed me. “Make love to me, Thunder.”

Her in my arms, I peered up at the man on the cross and then smirked against her mouth. “In front of Jesus?”

She was gorgeous as she smiled. “If he didn’t want ta see, he shouldn’t have led us here.”

Perfect. This angel was perfect for this hellion.

This time, there was no trying to impress each other. There was no seduction. No fancy bed. Only the wooden floor we had traveled, so many times, for so many years, to be with each other. To pray, to cry, to find salvation. It made every bit of sense that this floor, these walls, these windows, and this altar were a part of another union between us.

Rya and I trembled as we clung to each other, undressing one another. She paid no attention to me setting my knife and gun aside. She only saw me, not the biker. Our breathing was heavy and full of longing. Every touch led to another. Every caress was welcomed and returned.

Naked arms and legs intertwined. They were as caught up in the forever moments as were our hearts.

Like a drawing, like a work of art, our bodies created a masterpiece.

With every lick, I fed on her salty sweat as my mouth moved down her body. She didn’t look away as I kissed her stomach, moving down her mound to sink my tongue into her glistening core. She never looked away as I feasted on her wildflower taste. Panting, she even kept her eyes on me as she jolted and surrendered to the orgasm I drew from her.

Breathlessly, she licked her gaping lips. “I’ve never felt that before.”

I smirked. “It may make me an asshole, but I’m glad to hear it.”