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“Every night?”

“Every fucking night.”

Ryan groans and drives deeper.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and move with him, meeting every thrust instead of remaining where he places me. He feels better than memory and more overwhelming than every fantasy I used to survive the distance.

“I missed you,” I gasp.

His forehead presses against mine. “I fucking ached for you.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.” His voice breaks as his hand moves across my waist, breast, and face, touching everywhere as though he cannot decide what he missed most. “I listened to you hang up every week and hated the room after the line went dead.”

My eyes burn. “I hated my bed after we hung up too.”

Ryan kisses me again, and every trace of emotional distance disappears beneath the violence of our mouths and the rhythm of his body.

His hand moves between us.

The first stroke of his thumb across my clit sends pleasure tearing through me.

I break away from the kiss with a cry.

“There,” he says.

He does it again.

My body tightens around him.

Ryan looks down between us, watching his cock disappear inside me while his thumb works across the swollen nerves above it. His expression turns feral.

“I heard your fingers do this.”

“They weren’t enough.”

“They’ll never be enough again.”

“Then don’t leave me with them.”

The words emerge from need instead of negotiation, but Ryan’s eyes snap to mine.

“Look at me,” I tell him.

His gaze locks with mine.

“I’m here now.”

Something inside him breaks.

His rhythm loses every remaining trace of control. He fucks me harder, his hand gripping my hip while the other continues touching me with the brutal precision my body remembers.

Pleasure coils tighter with every thrust.

Ryan sees it coming.

“Give it to me.”