Page 11 of Ryker

Chapter 11: Corinne

I shouldn't be surprised by how strong he is, but I still scream when he flips me over and picks me up bridal style off the couch. I find myself throwing my arms around his neck for safety as he carries me from the living room, up the stairs, and to his bedroom. "Speak now or forever hold your peace, sweetheart." He says as we cross the threshold. "Once I get that dress off you, there's no holding me back from ravishing you the way you deserve to be ravished."

I'm not a first date kind of girl and for a second I consider saying this. I want to tell him no, let's hold off for a few dates and see if we're compatible as people first, but I keep my mouth shut instead. I've known Ryker practically my whole life. Maybe I don't know all his deep secrets and fears, but I know him better than any guy I've ever dated or slept with. I know him inside and out, the way you want to know a guy before you have sex with him for the first time. The way we got together was a little unconventional and more than a little unprofessional, but that's okay. After what happened in the living room, I want to know Ryker on a level that I've only ever fantasized about before tonight. "No complaints here, except that you're talking way too much. There's a lot of things you could be doing with that mouth that don't include talking, unless it's dirty."

He rolls his eyes. "Even in the heat of the moment, you're a sassy little thing. How do people put up with you?" Ryker asks as he sets me down on my feet.

I look up at him with a cheeky smile on my lips. "Not nearly as well as you have, but that could be a fluke. I'll have to tell them to try that little spanking thing and see if that helps."

When he grabs my hips and pulls me into him, it's a possessive feeling that grips me in more ways than one. I can feel the slickness between my legs begin to drip down my thighs. "Nobody better be touching your ass but me. Is that clear?" His tone is positively guttural.

"Yes, sir," I say mockingly. I can feel his cock press against my thigh and I want to fall to my knees before him and pull it out from those slacks and see if it's as impressive as it feels, but I can't tear my eyes away from the burning look of desire that he gives me. He looks at me as if I'm the only woman in the world.

"Take off your dress. Now." He commands in a voice that sends shockwaves of lust straight to my pussy.

I obey instantly, grabbing the hemline of my sexy, innocent little white dress and pull it over my head. The strapless, lace bra that holds my breasts strains against the front clasps, begging for release. Don't worry, girls, I know how you feel. "What next?" I ask.

He takes a step back to look at me, taking in every inch of me with his eyes and committing it to memory. "You're gorgeous. Don't ever let anyone tell you differently. You are absolutely beautiful."

I feel myself blush and I stare at my shoes. How does he know just what to say? This man who tattled on me when I was a kid for lighting fires in the backyard or for jumping off the roof when Alexandra dared me to. Suddenly he makes me feel like Cinderella when I'm wearing nothing but a lacy bra and a pair of stilettos.

"Take off the bra." He interrupts my inner monologue.

Thank God. I wasn't sure how much longer I could stand here wearing next to nothing and not knowing what to say or do next. I look him in the eye as I unclasp the two hook and eyelets, discarding the white undergarment on top of my dress. "Should I take off the shoes next?" I ask to speed up the process. I'm growing restless. I want him to have me and vice versa.

"No," he says firmly, "I've always wanted to fuck a woman in stilettos."

This has never been on my bucket list of sexual activities, but you can guarantee that I'm up for checking it off his. "Well how about you remove a thing or two then, Special K? Let's see if you're Mr. December material underneath all those clothes after all."

The taunting in my tone causes the tent in his pants to twitch. I've been giving it the side-eye for the past couple minutes, watching it and wondering if he'd let me touch it, lick it, or play with it any time soon. "You go lay on the bed then. Up near the pillows," Ryker orders.

I step backward, once, twice, three times until I run into the bed, keeping my eyes on him while I get myself into position against the pillows. I watch as he carefully removes his belt and then begins untucking his shirt. This isn't anything like that time I went to Chippendales with Alexandra and the men stripped before us, raunchy and uncut. This is slow and sensual. Ryker takes his time with each button, his eyes boring into mine, seducing me without even touching me. By the time he takes off the button-up shirt, I want to jump off this bed and rip off his undershirt and run my hands up and down his body.

His biceps ripple with each movement he makes. When the undershirt comes off, I groan with frank appreciation. Ryker takes good care of himself. For a man who grew up eating a lot of pasta, he sure hit the gym a lot to get a six-pack that looks like that. Then he removes the shoes and pants, which leaves his boxers holding back a very excited member who looks like its definitely grown since I last saw it in middle school. This slow unveiling has been a cinematic production that has led me to copious amounts of lust and need.

"Holy shit," I whisper when he drops his boxers and unveils his cock. He's thick, the kind of thick people make memes about. "Have you considered auditioning for the role of the Coke can in the Coca Cola commercials?" I joke because that's who I am as a person.

Clothes were strewn about and the tension broken, Ryker strides toward the bed and crawls towards me. He grabs my legs and pulls me down until I'm lying on my back and staring at the ceiling. "You know, your ceiling isn't a popcorn ceiling," I announce.

"If this doesn't make you shut up, I don't know what will," he mumbles, though I'm 99% sure he's talking to himself at this point.

Then he dives on in. His mouth covers my clit and his fingers find their way into my already dripping wet pussy and I rocket my way into the heavens. "Fuck," is the only word that comes out of my mouth as my back bows and my hand gets lost in the covers, gripping so I have something to hold onto.

His tongue must be blessed by God himself because it swirls and flicks like some kind of mystical being that knows exactly what I need until I'm grinding into his face like a desperate whore who can't get enough. Those fingers are making a 'come hither' motion that's about to get me to cum and I'm concerned that he's playing my body like a fucking violin when this man has never played a God damn instrument in his life.

My body is covered in a thin layer of sweat before we're even five minutes into this little game and he's right, I have shut up. I couldn't form a sentence if my life depended on it. My mind is an array of colors and sounds, all of them are my moans. His lips are wrapped around my clit and sucking like a vacuum and I can't get enough. He hums, creating little vibrations that add a layer of sensation I wasn't expecting.

I can barely formulate the word 'yes' when I start cumming, let alone his name, and I'd feel bad if I could think, but I can't. I'm just riding the wave of my second orgasm as he takes long, languorous licks of my pussy to draw out the sensations. I'd grab his hair and pull if it wasn't mostly shaved. "This has been gravely unfair treatment," I manage to get out, albeit raspily.

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