Page 44 of Ryder

Claire

Ryder inches closer to me and brings his lips to mine. He kisses me so gently at first that I feel treasured. There are so many sides to him. Sometimes, he kisses me with so much demand that my head spins. Other times, he comes in soft and slow. My head still spins, though.

His hand comes to the side of my head, cupping my neck. He angles me how he wants me before rolling me onto my back. His hand smooths down my arm and settles on my stomach over the T-shirt. For a long time, he simply strokes my skin through the shirt while he kisses me.

Finally, he gathers the cotton material and pulls it up my body. He breaks the kiss so he can rise over me, grabs the shirt with both hands, and eases it over my head.

He doesn’t remove it entirely, though. Instead, he leaves it tangled around my wrists, fists the material, and traps my arms above my head. He does this without looking because his gaze is on my chest.

I whimper from his stare alone. My breasts feel heavy. My nipples are harder than ever. The cool air in the room is not even remotely responsible. It’s his gaze…

I shudder and arch my chest off the bed, begging him without words to touch me.

“Jesus, Claire… You’re so fucking gorgeous. I love how you arch for me. You need my mouth on you so badly.”

I squirm and writhe and arch again. “Please…” I need him to touch me more than I’ve ever needed anything.

Ryder releases my wrists and drops to a hip and an elbow next to me. He lifts his hand to stroke a finger between my breasts reverently. “Perfection,” he whispers. “So beautiful.”

I never dreamed of anyone worshipping me like this. It can’t be real. Surely, I’m going to wake up hot and sweaty in my twin bed in my parents’ apartment. I’m going to be so disappointed when I wake up, too. I hope I can keep the dream going, at least until after he fulfills the promise to suckle me and then make me come.

He takes his sweet time, staring at me as though I were a cherished heirloom. He uses that finger to draw circles around my nipples, back and forth from one breast to the other until I ache so badly, I think I might scream.

When he finally taps one, I cry out and buck against him. He’s holding my hands firmly, but my legs are free. I hate that they’re tangled in the covers. The more I squirm, the more I seem to get caught up with the sheet wrapped around my feet and ankles.

Ryder pinches my nipple gently. “Claire…” His voice is soft, reverent.

I feel a desperation I’ve never experienced before. I need him todosomething. I need more. Finally, he cups my breast and leans over to kiss the tip. It’s not enough, and my frustration grows.

He ignores my writhing and holds my breast steady, circling the swollen bud with his tongue, which is so much more intense than his finger.

I whimper, my entire body jerking when he flicks it. And then he sucks the tip into his mouth and holds it captive. A low moan escapes my lips. The experience is so powerful. I’m a tight ball of need. My panties are soaked, and my pussy is throbbing.

I lift my hips, silently begging him to touch me lower, but he’s focused on my breast. When he releases it with a pop, he nibbles a path to the other nipple and torments it in the same fashion, flicking, licking, teasing, and, eventually, sucking.

I had no idea my nipples were this sensitive. I know I like to touch them when I finger myself, but his touch is so much better. Masturbation has never brought me anywhere close to what I’m experiencing with Ryder.

“I could worship these berries for hours,” he whispers against my nipple before lifting his gaze to mine.

I can hardly focus. “Please…” It’s the only word I’m capable of.

“You want me between your legs, baby?” His voice is lower, deeper, gravelly.

“Yes…”

Ryder yanks the covers away with one hand, releases my wrists, and rises to his knees next to me. “Spread your legs, baby.”

I’m panting as I part my knees. I’ve never felt this vulnerable. My heart is racing. I wish he would take my panties off and go ahead and fuck me, but I know he won’t.

Tugging my hands free from the tangled T-shirt, I lower my arms and cup my aching breasts.

“Jesus, Claire… Do you have any idea how hot you are?”

My face heats. I’m certainly hot, probably feverish. I feel wanton and bold. I like the way he’s looking at me. It makes me feel powerful. It gives me the courage to pinch my nipples and pluck them.

“Fuck.” He climbs between my legs, pushing them wider. His erection is straining against his boxers, the bulge so tremendous I worry about how large it is. His package dips out of my view as he lowers between my legs on his stomach, palms my thighs, and holds me captive.

I can feel his breath on my pussy over my panties. Damn, I wish I wasn’t wearing them. I should have gotten into bed without them. But that had seemed like a horrible idea at the time.

---