Page 35 of Last Love

Now.

How exactly we get into my townhouse is a mystery.

Between his mouth on mine and mine on his I’m not entirely sure how we’re even breathing let alone how we’re moving.

But we are.

The front door is slammed shut with a thud hard enough to shake the fucking foundation. Thunder cracks again as if applauding the action and pushing us to continue forward. To abandon the entryway for my first-floor master bedroom. To carelessly leave my workbag in our wake.

And my heels.

And his shoes.

And my soaking wet blazer that he hungrily yanks off my wobbly frame.

His pulling leads to my impatient tugging at the hem of his collared shirt on a toddler like pout, “Off.”

Ry arrogantly chortles, removes the wet cloth in one swift movement, and exposes not only a sculpted chest that proves his gym habit is still very much so still alive but an intricate broken clock tattoo with Roman numerals and pieces of it as well as calendar dates flying off it.

There’s so much detail.

Meaning.

Heartache.

I stumble in my steps to stop and touch the lost date that floats right over his heart.

It’s my birthday.

And the one floating off right beside it?

What was once our anniversary.

Gently stroking the numbers receives needy moans that grow into heavy groans. And those heavy groans transpose into almost feral growls when my fingers use the wet locks at the nape of his neck to ruthlessly yank him back down to me.

Our tongues resume their tangling, catching up on years of missed milestones and carving a clear path for new ones, while our steps proceed to stumble me backwards yet us forward.

Nervousness to my surprise is non-existent.

I effortlessly lead us to my room like this is something we do daily.

Like this is just another randomly long Thursday that we need to unwind from.

I nip needily at his bottom lip.

The corner of his mouth.

His jawbone.

I tease his tongue with playful swipes, keeping mine just out of his immediate reach at the same time I unbuckle his belt.

Undo the button to his jeans.

Lower his zipper and graze his cock for the first time in over ten years.

The initial stroke steals gasps from us both.

Briefly freezes our frames.

Us in the monumental moment it feels like its taken lifetimes to reach.

His Adam’s apple bobs the length of his throat buying him a few seconds to collect his composure and me the chance to flee or back out or insist we slow down.

Having such an open opportunity is one that I should be thankful for; however, it irrationally irks me that it’s even a possibility to not indulge in this.

In us.

The illogical vexation leads to me roughly yanking him by the edge of his jeans so that there can be no denying what it is I want next. “I belong to you?”

There’s not an ounce of reluctance for him to nod.

“Then act like it.”

Possession I had almost forgotten could exist overwhelms my other half.

Untamable heat flares in his crystal stare that the evening sun is bursting through the clouds just so I can see. His callous hands claw at my dress, carelessly ripping at the zipper that’s standing between him and where he needs to be. Gone is any possibility of second guessing his touch being too rough or too savage. My body is repeatedly captured and freed, straightened and contorted, jerked and cradled as he sheds the material preventing his cock from having the most coveted treasure, I have no doubt that I am by the look in his eyes.

I’m pushed onto my gray sheets with enough force to bruise, causing the wetness my pussy weeps in hopes that I am.

I wanna feel Ry in me.

On me.

I wanna see him on me.

In me.

And having his toned, naked figure hover above me I know I’m simply breaths away from every desire, every fantasy, every body trembling dream I’ve ever had coming true.

Ry's knees harshly nudge my legs open wider and wider and wider until I’m completely open for him.

He gives his lips a long, wolfish lick while letting his eyes fuck me like foreplay.

I struggle to steady my breath – hell, to even have a breath – and watch him, watch my body prepare for the ultimate submission. Wetness coats the bare area below, soaking every inch of space from my clit down the crack of my ass, wordlessly begging to be touched.

Tasted.

Taken.

Ry merely watches like a predator amused and engrossed by his prey.

Groans in approval while his long, hard cock twitches in anticipation.

I prepare to voice my demand my wants, my needs, to do that thing my best friend made very apparent I don’t do enough, when both of my arms are unexpectedly pinned above my head.

His face leans closer to mine as though he’s going to begin another round of kisses yet he barbarically commands on a brutal thrust of his cock inside, “Scream.”

And I helplessly do.

I airily scream in ecstasy from being torn in two.

I breathlessly holler over the muscles that are being savagely stretched to new limits and strained to swallow every single inch of his shaft.

Panting like an animal running for her life occurs each time he ruthlessly pumps deeper.

Hits my clit harder.

Hisses air out of his mouth into mine.

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