Page 31 of Finding Home with You

I release her nipple, biting the side of her breast before I move to the other side, repeating the action with her other nipple.

“Ryan,” she pants, widening her legs.

I hook my arms under her thighs, lifting her hips off the bed as I pull her pussy to my mouth. Erin lets out a loud moan as I suck hard on her clit, her quick orgasm all but contorting her body in my arms.

“Ryan, please,” she begs now.

But I don’t relent, ignoring her pleas as I work my tongue over her hot, wet center. I’m not in the mood for soft and gentle. Right now I need to fuck her hard and fast.

I suck her clit again, nibbling with my teeth until she starts to come again. As soon as she’s finished, I lower her hips so she’s lined up perfectly before I drive my cock right into her.

The groan that falls from her nearly undoes me, her hands fisting the duvet as she locks her legs around my waist, digging her heels into my ass.

“Easy, Red,” I warn.

“Shut up and fuck me, Ryan,” she half screams back at me.

I grunt my consent, my fingers grabbing her hips, digging into her skin as I start to work her body against mine, pounding into her, relentlessly. Erin’s body is covered in sweat, her skin glistening beneath me, as her tits move with my thrusts, her head thrown back in ecstasy as she begs me to keep going.

I don’t know how long we fuck for, but eventually I can’t hold out any longer, my hands bruising her skin now as I hitch her higher, pull her harder against me and push into her one last time before exploding inside her.

“Fuck,” I groan, holding her to me, my dick twitching inside her as all of my frustration and anger and helplessness is released.

“Holy shit,” she murmurs, still digging her heels in as she now pulls me on top of her.

I collapse against her, both of us moaning. I can feel the hard beat of her heart beneath me, pounding against her chest and mine. I bury my face against her neck, my teeth finding her skin, where they bite down hard in frustration.

“Red,” I say, grazing my teeth against her skin and the mark I’ve now left there.

“Yeah,” she whispers, her nails digging into my back as though she wants more.

I pull back, pushing up on my arms so I can look down at her. “We need to talk.”

Chapter Twelve

Erin

Ryan’s words send a chill though me, and goose bumps rise up on my skin despite the heat that’s still radiating off of both of us.

This is what we do, but it never fixes anything, it never gets to the true issue, yet still we fuck like crazy and then attempt to act like our problems don’t exist.

When his lips crashed into mine, I felt everything he carried with him. He kissed me with all his concerns and worries and fears, but also with his anger and frustration. It’s still written all over his face, and right now it seems that neither one of us is willing to admit fault, admit that we’re a fucked up mess.

I pull him closer, my nails running down the length of his back, marking him the way he marked me.

I want to hate him and push him away. I don’t want to make him a part of this, but in all honesty, once he knows the full extent of this shit show, he’ll leave anyway. It’s the way it always goes down.

We’re both quiet for a bit, our labored breathing finally returning to normal, even as the tension still hangs heavy in the air.

Ryan’s the first to speak, his deep voice cutting through the silence like a knife, and his tone is still harsh. “You going to start talking?” he questions and I roll my eyes. His approach sucks and I get that he’s angry, but fuck, so am I.

“Get off me, Ryan,” I demand, my tone equally as harsh as I shove my hands into his chest, but he stays put. His muscled frame looms over me as I struggle to get out from underneath him. “Seriously, Ryan,” I nearly shout. “You can go now. Just leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is going on!” Ryan yells back, startling me just a little.

At this point he has now stood up and is pulling on his clothes. I do the same, but even with something as simple as getting dressed you can feel the anger in both of us. Ryan’s jaw is clenched and his lips pursed as I watch him pull a white t-shirt over his head.

“You don’t want to know,” I finally respond, scrubbing my hands over my face as I stand in front of him in a t-shirt and underwear. I shake my head knowing that the picture he has tells him everything he needs to know.

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