Page 67 of Wicked

He undresses us with the speed of a man on a mission.

“Such determination,” I tease, hurrying onto the bed.

Growling, he crawls on top of me, keeping his weight off me. Still in awe of snagging this big, protective, sexy guy, I look him up and down, from his thick thighs, thick cock, taut abs, dark hair on his chest, and round, strong curves of his shoulders, and lick my lips in anticipation. My smile slips when my eyes meet his.

There’s hunger in their green depths. He wants a taste of me, but he doesn’t want to own me. If anything changes between us, he’ll willingly let me go.

“I care for you, Ryker.” I brush my fingers up and down the cords of muscles on his arms. The sinewy strands flex under my touch. “I like you so much.”

“Just like?”

I playfully swat at his shoulder. “You know it’s more than that.”

“Not ready to say the words, huh?”

He doesn’t give me the chance to answer. His mouth and hands all over my body brings me to the cusp of an ecstasy I never imagined I’d experience with the man of my choosing.

I have always believed my body would be used for someone else’s selfish pleasure, and I would be left with nothing but pain and shame.

His thick finger slides inside my sex. Another finger. He stretches me. Strokes my sensitive clit. My hips come off the bed. My heart beats out of control. I can’t catch my breath.

His mouth replaces his fingers, and I’m at the mercy of his skilled tongue. He tastes my arousal and drags his nose and his beard along my inner thighs, further marking who I belong with.

Yes, belong with. I choose him.

Delicious tension grows in my core. Shoots down to my sex. I clutch the sheets. He works at me with his mouth. I buck against his tongue. Shove my fingers in his hair. Yank when his mouth covers my sex. God, what he does with his tongue . . . My body tingles.

The toe-curling tension is now an agonizing pressure. I need release. I beg him for it. He slides his tongue over my slit, sucks on my clit, and I shatter. It’s too much. His mouth on me is too much. I push at his head. Slide up in bed. He’s not giving in this time, and I . . . I like it.

He hooks his arms around my thighs and tugs me to his face. “You gotta learn to ride your come, babe.”

He’s gentle with his mouth. Forgiving with his tongue. I lift my head, and balanced on my elbows, I watch. Dark head of hair between my legs. Muscular arms hooked under my thighs. His mouth . . . Goodness his mouth . . . My head lolls back, and I close my eyes, riding another climax.

Rustling of sheets. The mattress shifting beneath me. My eyes flutter open. Ryker rolls on a condom. Slides his erection inside me. My small channel stretches and takes in his thickness. He goes easy on me, sliding in and out. The slow rhythm is pure agony. I claw at his brawny shoulders with my nails and clamp my legs around his waist, urging him to go faster with my heels pushing on his tight ass cheeks.

“Ryker, please,” I rasp.

He’s not listening. He’s taking his time. Stretching me with every thrust and leaving me empty with each pull of his cock from my sex. He fills me again and brings me to the brink of a mind-shattering climax as he takes my nipple in his mouth. He sucks on the little bud. Grazes his teeth over the ball of nerves.

I arch my back, needing him to flick and taste that sensitive part of me. He sucks harder on my nipple. Thrusts deeper. Moves faster. A sheen of sweat coats his forehead. His face pulls into an expression of sheer pleasure. Winding my fingers in his hair, I cover my mouth over his.

He growls his release. Deepens the kiss. I sink into the bed. Slow the onslaught of his tongue with soft pecks. He sighs against my mouth. I taste my flavor, musky and sweet. I inhale. My arousal clings to his beard too.

He is my everything.

“You are mine, too.”

I said the words out loud. Smiling, I look deep into his eyes as he tucks pieces of my hair behind my ear. I can’t get enough of this guy. Touching him. Kissing him. Him touching me. His mouth claiming every part of me.

“Are we ready to show the kids and my team who I belong to, babe?”

He skims his finger down my face. Runs the pad of his thumb over the freckles alongside my bottom lip.

“Belong with, not to, Ryker.”

His brow furrows. “I choose you, sweetheart. I choose to belongto you. Only you.”

I’m right. Ryker is the guy who will help me be normal again. Unlike the Taylor brothers, Ryker Conway understands the importance of the power of free will. To love or hate. To stay or go. To accept a decision or fight it every step of the way.

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