Page 38 of Last Love

Submits to every unrestrained brush and bump of my hand.

Ry’s dick bulges against my slick palm, wordlessly begging me to keep going while concurrently telling me how close he is. Digging my fingers in deeper is done on an airy demand, “You come for me.”

His jaw tumbles down to speak.

“And only me, Ryder Collins.”

Whatever word or phrase was going to be uttered is obliterated, and in its place is scorching-hot streams of cum.

They sear my fingertips.

Drip down my thighs.

Land on my need to be polished toes during their pursuit to rush down the drain.

He huffs and puffs and dives inward to taste my mouth that’s being denied in order to watch him come undone for me in ways I desperately needed to see.

After so many years of being with someone in a routine basis, it’s easy to forget that maybe you are sexy.

That maybe you are irresistible.

And I get that shit to a degree is very self-decided, but being able to physically see it like this is so fucking uplifting.

Right now, I feel like the sexiest, most powerful woman on the goddamn planet, and I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet.

Ry carnally cups both of my ass cheeks and hauls me upward in order to guarantee he gets my lips. Tangling my fingers into his wet hair and legs around his waist are both mindlessly done.

Yet these mindless actions are welcomed.

They don’t feel like pre-programmed robotic habits.

Sure, they feel pre-programmed but it’s by instinct.

Like every part of me was pre-destined to be with every part of him.

Our shower ends shortly after his orgasm due to my insistence.

Explaining that it’s not that I don’t wanna get off so much as don’t want him that late for work while helping wash his hair adds a level of tenderness I think is appreciated. He returns the scrubbing favor by playfully snatching the loofah out of my grasp and gently cleaning me regardless of my good-hearted objections regarding his time.

The process of drying off is followed quickly by him brushing his teeth – thank you Xander for training me to always keep a spare toothbrush under the sink – and getting into yesterday’s somewhat still damp clothing I kicked into the bedroom when I went to grab the pizza.

I thoughtlessly cringe at his uncomfortable face from the doorway of the bathroom where I’m tying the belt to my robe. “That bad?”

“Eh, I’ll blast the heater on my way.” He lightly laughs. “It’ll be like a tumble dry every time I hit a pothole.”

Catching my giggle with one hand is instant.

“Never hide that sound from me, baby,” Ry sweetly scolds, pulling the collared shirt back on. “There’s nothing else in the world like it.”

Redness recoats the cheeks that had just finished being flushed.

“Dinner?”

Loving the fact that there’s no assumption that it’s a yes, that he asked versus just expected, has me shyly smiling. “I’d love to.”

He brightly beams and steps closer to capture my dangling hand. “Could you say that shit one more time for me, Pres? I just…wanna make sure it’s real.” Ry’s other hand steals a single stroke of my cheek. “That being here with you is real.”

God, I know that feeling.

“I’d love to go to dinner with you.”

Excitement spreads across his expression. “I’m off at seven. Does seven thirty work for you?”

“Don’t you need to go home and change first?”

“Nah, I’ll just buy a new one on my lunchbreak.”

The word shifts my attention briefly to the logo he’s currently sporting. “Roscoe’s Wheels & Waffles.”

Shame for some reason replaces the happier emotion. “I uh…work on cars and shit. Kind of a mechanic. Kind of mechanic bitch boy.”

“There are worse things,” I sweetly state hoping to lift the mood.

“Yeah, when you’re in charge of cleaning the bathroom after Iron Tip takes a post-Chinese food dump, it doesn’t feel that way.”

A grossed-out grimace occurs alongside a small snigger.

“Is seven thirty good for you?”

The question encourages another spontaneous decision to occur.

“Yeah, I’m working from home today, so my schedule’s pretty flexible.”

“As flexible as you?” His lewd eluding is done on an eyebrow pump.

“I’ll have you know I’ve never gotten my legs to go that high before!”

Ry’s cocky grin causes an internal huff.

Ugh.

Wrong thing to say.

I wasn’t intending to stroke his ego.

“And on that badge of fucking honor note…,” he gives my hand one last squeeze, “I gotta get going. Meet me at the shop? We can decide where to go from there?”

More questions.

More requests.

I love it.

I love him.

Fuck, I’m gonna spend most of the day talking to Katherine trying to figure out how to divide the two.

“Yeah.” My nod is slow yet decisive. “That’s perfect.”

Ry gives me a warm smile, one final soft, however, firm kiss, and slips out of my room, leaving me to melt against the doorframe in order to stop myself from following him all the way to my driveaway like the little lovesick puppy I already am.

Ohmygod, I gotta get myself together.

I cannot…I will not…just wrap my life around him.

I will have boundaries.

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