“Fuck.” His hands grip my lower back as we move together.
I cup his face, my fingers brushing the stubble of his cheeks. He’s got a few days of growth. The blond stubble does little to mask his beautiful, youthful face. I tip his chin up, claiming his lips as I grind on him.
“I missed you all day,” he says against my lips, his hands drifting down to grip my bare ass as we move our hips, our skin heating from the friction. “Ten hours is too fucking long. You’re mine,” he groans, shoving his hand up under his jersey to play with my tits.
I break our kiss, arching back as I let my body feel his hands on me, smoothing over my skin. His hands are calloused from years of gripping a wooden stick. The pads of his fingers are rough. I fucking love it. I love the way his palms scratch even as they soothe.
I drag my fingers through his hair, holding onto him as he drops a hand between us. I think he’s going for my clit, but then he’s wrapping his hand around his dick.
“Just a taste,” he murmurs. “Please, baby. Just one taste. Then I want you to own me.”
I gasp, lifting up on my hips as he positions himself at my entrance. At the first feel of him prodding, I lower my hips, sinking down to claim his tip. A shiver shoots up my spine, and I grip tighter to his hair, jerking his head back to make him look at me rather than where we’re joining.
“Look at me,” I command. “Look in my eyes as I take you.”
He holds my gaze, the green rim of his irises framing the black of his pupils. His lips are parted, his breath coming out in short pants as I sink lower down his shaft.
“You’re so beautiful.” I smooth my hands over his blond curls. “You’re so gentle, so kind. I don’t deserve it,” I admit, letting my own vulnerability free.
His grip tightens on my hips. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he says, his jaw clenching tight as he pulls on my hips, sheathing me to the hilt. “My Tess will never say that again. You’re in my jersey, riding my dick. You’re gonna treat yourself the way I treat you. You are a fucking queen. Say it.”
I drop my hands to his shoulders, grinding my hips, moving with him so deep inside me. “I’m a queen,” I pant.
“You’re the beginning.”
“I’m the beginning,” I whisper, my core burning with need.
His arms move off my hips to brush over my shoulders. Then he’s cupping my face, pulling me down for a kiss. “You’re the end,” he whispers against my lips. “Tess, you’re my end.”
“And you’re mine,” I reply.
We kiss, mouths opening, claiming the other’s essence. God, he’s such a good kisser. I could just do this all night and be satisfied. But we both need more. I need to feel in control, and he needs to let go. I can count on one hand the number of men I would ever trust to be this vulnerable with me. Now that Ryan’s in my life, the list is only him.
Just thinking about how much I love him, my orgasm is about to crash through me. I cry out, shoving off him. I lift my hips, freeing myself from his dick. We both groan at the sudden loss. I want him inside me. I want his come in me.
There’s always later.
I scramble to my feet, panting for air, my pussy’s wetness warm between my thighs. “Get on your hands and knees,” I command. “Show me what’s mine.”
With a hungry groan he attempts to turn over, only to be met by the boxes and my half-packed suitcase. Even now, his weight crushes some of the photographs—all proof of what we’re determined to overcome together.
I watch all the muscles in his back tense as he makes a dramatic sweep with both arms, sending the suitcase and the boxes crashing to the floor. The smaller box overturns and my unsigned divorce papers rain down like snow, covering the braided rug.
Watching them fall, the truth hits me: I don’t care if Troy ever signs the fucking papers. Either way, I’m free.
Ryan crawls on the bed, not caring that it’s still littered with clandestine photographs of our entire relationship. He glances over his shoulder at me. “I’ve never done this before,” he admits.
Ignoring the chaos all around us, I focus all my attention on him. There is only Ryan. I step in behind him, smoothing my hands up his thighs and over his toned ass. “I’ll make this so good for you.” I say, my voice soft. “You trust me?”
He nods, and I flash him a smile. “I want this, Tess. I want you.”
“As I want you,” I reply.
Leaving him on the bed, I move around to the end and fish my bag of toys out of my upturned suitcase. Tossing the bag on the end of the bed, I open it, taking out my favorite strapless strap-on. It’s a purple “L” shape, with the long end shaped like a dildo. The shorter end is thicker, more bulbous like a butt plug, easier to fit and hold in my pussy. My favorite feature is the pair of bunny ears that stimulate my clit.