Page 35 of Nailed (Dad Bod Contracting 3)
I come, then.
Like never before, with a white-hot shattering intensity—I come, and I weep with the fury of it.
I’m not screaming, not shrieking or gasping—I am flat-out sobbing as I come around him.
He pulls back. “Look at me, Laurel,” he commands.
My eyes fly open, and I have to fight to keep them open.
“Don’t look away, beautiful,” he murmurs.
“I—I—Ryder…oh god oh god oh god, Ryder!”
He is lost to the onrushing detonation of his orgasm, and I’m still clenching around him and he’s so thick inside me that I feel him pulsing as he unleashes inside me—I feel every last pulse and rush as he thrusts, and I come all the harder, feeling him like this. Instead of slamming into me harder as he comes, he gentles; it is a conscious thing, his eyes on mine. He trembles, shakes, his whole body shivering with exquisite control in the midst of utter release.
“Laurel…” he gasps.
Each slow, sliding thrust is a meeting of souls—I feel this. Our eyes are locked, hazel on green, each of us trembling. Shivering, he pushes deep into me, holding me against him and thrusting slowly but hard, so his thick spasming cock fills me to the brim, my channel clenching around him. Even his hips and thighs shake with his control, both of his hands claw into my ass cheeks, pulling them apart so he can thrust more deeply yet, and I’m rolling on him, grinding my hips, working myself around him to take every last shred of this mutual climax.
Not once do either of us blink or look away—to do so is impossible.
Finally, he sinks with shuddering relief to the mattress, wrapping me in his arms as I shake and quake with the aftershocks of my subsiding orgasm. He pulls out of me, and then I lie on top of him, heedless of the mess smearing against me, needing only the comfort of his arms.
Needing momentary relief from the intensity of the moment, I lift up on an elbow and grin down at him. “Well. That definitely exceeded my expectations.”
Ryder bursts into laughter, cradling me against him. “Oh god, Laurel. You are just…” He pulls my face to his for a brief, hot kiss. “You’re absolutely perfect.”
Chapter 7
The fact that we need to get up and get cleaned up can’t be ignored any longer. We’ve lain drowsing in the afterglow for I don’t know how long. Periods of silence and then chatting about random things have kept us occupied for at least half an hour.
But the sticky mess between us has grown cold. Ryder sighs. “I need to clean us up.”
I look up into eyes. “I was trying to think of a sexy way to say that.”
He slips his arm out from under me and rolls away, chuckling. “How about we skip to the part of things where not everything has to be sexy?”
He goes to the bathroom and closes the door, and I hear water running. When he comes back out, he’s discarded the condom and has cleaned himself up, and has a washcloth in his hand. He comes around to my side of the bed, perches on the edge and leans over me, using the warm washcloth to clean my belly and everywhere else, and then I take it from him and wipe myself, getting everything clean.
I hand him the washcloth. “I’d say we’ve pretty well skipped to that point, Ryder. Nothing about cleaning up like this is terribly sexy.”
“I’m glad,” he says, tossing the washcloth into the corner of the bathroom near the tub. “I like it like this.”
“I’m not peeing in front of you yet,” I tell him as he climbs back onto the bed. “We’re not there.”
“Yeah, I’m okay with that.” He glances at me. “That is a pretty big step in a relationship.”
“Would it be weird or ruin the moment if I asked how long it took you and your ex to get there?” I say.
He shrugs. “Not at all. We never really did, to be honest. Amy was always weird about that.”
“I thought I was alone in that,” I admit. “Paul and I never did either. Paul was always very…private, about that stuff.”
“What’s weird to me is how it feels to talk about our exes together,” Ryder says crossing his arms under his head. “It should be a turn-off, or tense or awkward, but it’s just not. And that’s a little unusual.”
“You know, I feel the same! It’s nice, because I’ve never really had anyone who understood what I dealt with.” I sigh, turning to my side to look at him, tracing lines on his chest with a finger. “I think the reason it’s weird is because we’re kind of skipping the golden phase, the honeymoon phase or whatever you want to call it, where the other person is perfect and everything is amazing and it feels like a movie. We’re kind of skipping forward to things being…” I trail off, shrugging, unsure how to finish it.
