“Knees on the chaise,” he says. “Kneel over me.”
I glance backward, then do as he says. It’s awkward getting on the chaise, then straddling him. But his hands are firm at my hips, and once I’m over him, I feel the head of his cock thrusting against me, and I wriggle, wanting him inside me.
“Go ahead,” Ryan says. “Take me. Take all of me.”
I reach between us and guide his cock into me, then I lower myself. He feels incredible, and I rise and fall, levering with my knees, up and down on his shaft. He is thick inside me, and the pleasure of this position is only enhanced when he lets go of one hip and slides his hand around to play with my clit.
Tremors run though my body, and I rock faster and faster. My hands go to my breasts, and then, when he takes his hand away from my clit, I cry out in protest, because I so desperately want to come with him.
“It’s okay. Touch yourself,” he says, and as he speaks, I feel his finger stroke me from behind, teasing my ass even as my finger plays with my clit and his cock fills me.
I am overwhelmed. I am nothing but pleasure and sensation and raw, wild need.
“Hunter,” I cry, as I piston faster against him, as the pressure builds inside me, as I feel him tremble deep, deep within. “Hunter.” I scream his name, and as I do, the world explodes around us and he empties himself inside me.
I collapse back against him, and he pulls me tight, his hands cupping my breasts, stroking and soothing. “That’s it, kitten. God, yes, that was perfect.”
We sit that way for a moment, and then he slowly lowers us both, our bodies still connected, to the chaise. I am breathing hard, feeling decadent and satisfied and wanton. He is gently kissing my back, my shoulders, and I think that for this moment, I have found heaven.
“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, just as I am about to drift off to sleep. Instantly, I am awake again.
“No?”
“Oh, no,” he says. “I have plans for you. For that cunt. For that mouth.” He pulls out, semi-soft now, and rolls over to face me. “But only if you want more. I could have you all day and all night, so if you want to stop, you need to be the one to tell me.”
“No,” I whisper. “Don’t stop. Please. Don’t ever stop.”
“You’re staying in the guest suite?”
I nod.
“Go there. Wait for me.”
I do, padding barefoot and naked to the room that is my home whenever I stay in this house. I have never been uncomfortable in this room, but I am now. I don’t know where to sit or what to do. I don’t know how he wants me. I only know that I want to please him because I do not want this to end.
I feel wilder than I have ever felt with any man, and I want to go further with him than I have with any man. That makes me vulnerable, and that’s not something that I’m used to.
With Hunter, though, I like it.
Finally, I lay on the bed. I want him to see how much I need him. How turned on I am. I spread my legs and slide my hand over my sex. Then I close my eyes and imagine it is him.
“Now that is a pretty picture,” he says when he enters the room only minutes later. He is still naked, but now he has a length of cord coiled around his shoulder. In his hand, he holds a single glass of wine.
I try not to look at the cord—try not to think about how he said he would tie me up. Not because it scares me but because it excites me.
He takes a sip, then offers the glass to me. I drink, too, the act of sharing the wine wonderfully intimate.
I draw a breath, and my eyes slide toward the cord. Despite everything I’ve done—and I’ve done a lot—I’ve never actually had a guy tie me down before. Nikki would say it’s because I’m usually the one going after them—getting my kicks and blowing off steam—and that means that I need to be in control. Honestly, she’d probably be right.
With Ryan, though … well, with Ryan, I like the idea of him taking charge. I like it a lot.