Page 85 of When Wrecked Meets Ruined
I pushed back, meeting him thrust for thrust, our breaths labored, our bodies slick with sweat.
I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted more and more and more. I wanted everything he had to give.
“Fuck,” he said with a groan, thrusting faster and faster, his hand moving to where we were joined and rubbing my clit.
“Oh god. Yes. Right there. Don’t stop,” I panted.
He yanked my hair, and my neck arched, my breasts bobbing as we fucked like wild animals. His teeth sank into my shoulder, and my pussy clenched around his cock. I crashed into an orgasm that temporarily blinded me.
With the headboard banging against the wall and my moans filling the room, he came on a roar followed by a string of curses.
Afterward, we collapsed on the bed, spent and boneless, gasping for breath.
“Fuck,” he said on a heavy exhale as he knotted the condom.
When he returned from the bathroom, he rolled onto his side next to me and trailed his fingers over my lips. “Are you in love with me yet, Cherry?”
“Not even close, Dally Boy.”
“Give me five minutes, and I’ll be ready to go again.”
I laughed, and he kissed my lips and pulled me on top of him. I straddled him, squeezing his hips between my thighs, and licked the salt off his chest. He grabbed my ass cheeks in his big hands and squeezed.
I could feel him getting hard again, and I sat up a little on my knees and reached down, wrapping my hand around him and dragging the tip through my folds, feeling him grow harder in my hand. He cupped my breasts and brushed his thumbs over the nipples, setting off tiny explosions.
“I can’t fucking get enough of you,” he said, pulling my head down and giving me a dirty kiss.
And I wondered if we’d ever get enough of each other.
* * *
Ridge took a hit off the blunt, grabbed the back of my head, and pressed his mouth against mine. My eyes drifted shut as my lips parted, and he shotgunned the smoke into my mouth. I held it in my lungs before I exhaled a ribbon of smoke that curled up to the ceiling fan.
I kissed the corner of his mouth. His stubbled jaw. The pulse point just below it. I could feel it thrumming against my lips like the wings of a bird.
“How many girls have you slept with?” I asked, drowsy and sated, curled against his side, his arm draped around my shoulders. Ethereal music, sexy and dreamlike, poured from his Bluetooth speaker.
“Does it matter?”
“Guess not.” I plucked the blunt from his fingers and brought it to my lips. The cherry tip glowed when I sucked in a lungful. I opened my mouth, my lips mere fractions of an inch from his, and when I exhaled, he inhaled.
Inhale, exhale. I breathe, you breathe.
His calloused hand skimmed up my thigh and his mouth captured mine. I swirled my tongue around his and felt like I was floating. All the edges were blurred, and I could taste myself on his tongue.
“None of them were you,” he said against my lips, his hand curling around my hip, drawing me closer.
And I fell a little bit in love with him. Naked. In his bed. Smoking weed and listening to music. Two dirty kids from the wrong side of the tracks who met in a junkyard.
I could feel my walls tumbling down. Crumbling to dust at my feet.
It was dangerous to feel like this, but I couldn’t stop it even if I tried.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
Ridge
“Stay.”I grabbed Evie’s hand and pulled her back into bed.
