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The Graham Effect (Campus Diaries, #1)(52)

Author:Elle Kennedy

“I can’t believe you just walk around with this thing in your pants,” I say, feeling a bit dizzy. In a good way. He’s much bigger than I’m used to, but I can’t wait to feel him inside me.

He grins at me. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

“Aw, you used the word sweet in a sentence.”

I start stroking him, bringing a flash of heat to his eyes.

“I think maybe you need to put that smart mouth to better use,” he suggests.

“Really. Because I like using it to make fun of you.”

“You might like sucking me off better.”

My pulse quickens. “You know, this might be the most talkative you’ve ever been.”

“Yeah. This part’s easy,” he says with a shrug.

“What part?”

“Telling you how good I want to make you feel. Telling you how good you make me feel. That’s the kind of talking I’m decent at.”

“Then I guess we have to do this a lot more often,” I say softly. “If I want to keep you talking.”

I slide off the bed and onto the floor. I take him in my mouth, infusing my senses with my first real taste of him. I love it. And I love the noises he makes. Every single sound is music to my ears. Sometimes he curses. Hisses. Groans. At one point he calls me a good girl. And it’s a kink I never even knew I had.

I gaze up at him as I suck him deep.

He gazes back and says, “I want to fuck you. Are you gonna let me fuck you, Gigi?”

I whimper in response. My pussy is throbbing again. Swollen and needy. “Please.”

He hauls me off my feet and leads me back onto the bed. His body is warm, powerful, as he carefully lowers it on top of me. His lips find me in a kiss, and I feel him reaching for the top drawer on the nightstand. Then he halts.

“Oh shit. I don’t know if I have condoms.” He peers at me, pensive. “Can I use one from your box of five hundred?”

“Fuck off.” I start to laugh.

He grins.

“Do you really not have a condom?”

“No, I do. Just wanted to bring attention to your bulk condom purchases.”

“I told you, it wasn’t—”

He silences me with a kiss. Then grabs a condom. From a normal-sized pack. He puts it on and guides himself between my legs, and I gasp when his tip prods my opening.

“You okay?” he asks roughly.

“Yeah, just haven’t done this in a while.”

“I’ll be gentle,” he says in a tone that’s anything but. His voice is pure gravel. And his body is pure power, but he stays true to his word. He eases inside me so gently that I start sweating from the anticipation.

“Jesus,” he chokes out. “Yes. You feel amazing.”

Very slowly, he pushes himself deeper. Inch by inch, until he’s buried inside me. His size is daunting. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so full. I sense his control, the care with which he seats himself fully, trying not to hurt me. I can feel his shoulders quivering.

I stroke my nails over his sinewy flesh. “I’m pretty sure I was promised the best fuck of my life,” I remind him, and he chokes out a laugh.

Then his mouth is at my ear as he whispers, “Anything you want, Gisele.”

He starts off slow. A drawn-out tempo that’s utter torture. Sliding in and creeping out, while my inner muscles spasm trying to trap him inside.

“Greedy,” he whispers again.

“So greedy,” I murmur, then moan when he thrusts back in.

It’s the kind of sex that makes your breath catch in tormented anticipation because the tempo is agonizing.

“Can you come just from this?” His hips are moving. His mouth is busy. Lips exploring my neck. Teeth digging into my shoulder while he cups my breast, kneading, playing with the tightened nipple.

“Probably no,” I admit. “I need to touch my clit.”

“Yeah, do it. Let me watch.”

He shifts positions, rising on his knees. And while I miss the warmth of his chest on mine, there’s nothing hotter than the sight of him lodged inside me while he peers down at me.

“Do it,” he urges. “Show me.”

I bring my hand between my legs. Slowly, I rub the pads of my fingers over the swollen bundle of nerves that’s damn near ready to detonate.

His hands curl around the fronts of my thighs as his hips flex and retreat. He’s watching himself fuck me. Watching me touch myself.

“Is that how you make yourself come when you’re alone?”

I nod.

“Just the clit? No fingers?”

“Not usually.”

“What if I came over and helped you sometime? Fucked you with my fingers while you rubbed your clit.”

“What about…?” It’s getting difficult to breathe. “Why not your dick?”

“That too. I’ll give you any part of me you want. If it gets you off, it’s yours.”

“I like this Ryder,” I say, moaning when he slides forward. “The Ryder who talks like this. I like these words.”

Smiling faintly, he pulls his hips back, then thrusts into me again. Each time he does that, he hits a sweet spot deep inside, bringing me closer and closer to the edge.

The position provides both of us with a perfect view of his dick sliding in and out of me.

“You take me so good,” he says in approval.

The urgency building in my core becomes unbearable. I lift my hips, grinding against him.

“Gonna make me come if you keep doing that,” he warns.

I smile up at him. “Is that a threat?”

At that, he coils forward, his body fully covering mine again as his hips move faster. The change of angle is exactly what I need to find my bliss. With his pelvis deliciously scraping my clit and his cock plunging deep, the orgasm starts in my core and ignites my entire body.

“Oh my God, Ryder, don’t stop,” I beg, digging my fingernails into his back as I shudder from release.

He’s not far behind, groaning hoarsely into my neck. His thrusts become more and more erratic until he finally presses himself in deep and trembles as he comes.

I’m pretty sure I just had the best sex of my entire life.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

RYDER

Dirty little secret

I’M PRETTY SURE I JUST HAD THE BEST SEX OF MY ENTIRE LIFE.

It takes a while for my heartbeat to regulate. Gigi is curled up beside me. Her fingers dance over my chest, stroking carelessly. Sucking in a breath, I cover her hand with mine, lacing our fingers together. It’s not a standard move in my arsenal. In fact, it’s one I would normally avoid at all costs. But it feels nice, so I don’t question why I did it.

I wait for her to start talking. To start asking questions. In my experience, this is when women want to talk. When the dopamine is still surging through their bloodstream, all those feel-good emotions flooding their system.

But Gigi doesn’t say anything.

“Something on your mind?” I say gruffly.

Fucking hell.

I initiated a conversation.

Willingly.

What is happening and how do I stop this? Why can’t I stop this? I’ve never been interested in digging deeper with the women in my bed, but I’m a bit eager for a glimpse into Gigi’s head.

“Just thinking about this Team USA thing,” she admits. Her fingertips play with my knuckles. “My dad offered to speak to the head coach on my behalf.”

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