Page 91 of Riding the Storm
He plants a hand on the barn wall above my head. Then, with one swift thrust, he buries himself deep.
I cry out as his lips go to my ear. He nips at my skin as he slowly pumps in and out.
“Fuck,” he groans as I wrap a leg behind him and start rolling my hips to meet his thrusts.
It feels so damn good. My muscles begin pulsing around him as his hips continue to hammer into me.
My breaths coming in short, labored pants as my fingernails score down his back.
“I’m going to come, baby,” he pants before slipping his hand between us, stroking me in just the right spot.
“Ahh, yes, Ry,” I exclaim as my body begins to convulse, pulling him deeper until he loses control.
His mouth clamps down on mine as he bucks wildly until he arches his back, his roar echoing off the walls before he collapses on top of me.
I run circles on his back as we lie there, naked, listening to the rain fade to a trickle.
“We have to stop doing this,” I say more to myself than to him.
His head lifts. “And why’s that?”
I turn my face to his. “Because you’ll be gone soon.”
He lets out a frustrated breath and stands. Jerking his pants up his legs.
“Where are you going?” I ask as I stand and do the same.
“Anywhere but here,” he growls as he grabs his shirt and boots.
“Wait,” I call as I step into my boots and follow after him. “What’s your problem?”
He slams his hand against the wall of the tack room, and he doesn’t look at me as he grits out, “Dammit, Chuck, you act like I’m already gone. I’m right fucking here.”
“Not for long,” I say.
“You’re right,” he says, tugging his boots on. “And at least you won’t have to sneak around anymore.”
He stomps out, leaving me standing in the barn door, watching him disappear behind the house.
Matty comes out of her office. “You okay?”
Oh no.
I turn slowly to face her. “Have you been in there this whole time?”
She nods.
“How much did you hear?”
She wrinkles her nose. “More than I ever wanted to.”
I let out a sob as I bring my hands up to cover my eyes.
“Oh, Char,” she says as she hurries over and wraps her arms around me. “It’s okay. It’ll all work out.”
“You’re not mad?”
“No,” she says as she rubs my back. “Traumatized maybe, but not mad.”
