Page 71 of Nailed (Dad Bod Contracting 3)
I have to stop him—I can’t take any more.
And I need him.
God, I need him.
I tangle my fingers in his beard and haul him upward. He crawls almost reluctantly away from me and up my body. I still can’t make the rest of my body move—I’m essentially paralyzed from the intensity of the last orgasm…
My hands work, and my mouth works, though. Mostly.
“Ryder,” I gasp.
He grins. “Awake, now?”
I huff a laugh. “For the most part.”
He’s still entirely clothed, a fact that makes me frown unhappily.
“What?” he asks, seeing the frown on my face.
“You’re not naked.”
He laughs. “No, not yet. Is that a problem?”
I nod sloppily. “Yes. I’m dead—you killed me. But I need you, and I need you now.”
He lifts up onto his knees, peeling off his T-shirt to bare his beautiful torso and heavy shoulders. “I can take care of that.”
Jeans next, and then he’s wearing nothing but socks and underwear—he makes quick work of the underwear, and now his gorgeous erection is bobbing bare, bulbous and gleaming.
I laugh, shaking a finger at him. “Ah-ah-ah. No socks during sex.”
He slumps to one side, digging at his socks with a finger. “Is that your rule?”
I nod, reaching for him as he finally moves over me. “Yes. It’s a rule I just made up right now, because if you’re trying to fuck me while wearing nothing but socks, I’ll laugh and it’ll ruin the moment.”
He brings himself into range of my hand, and I grasp him, stroke him greedily. “I don’t know—I wouldn’t mind laughing as I come.”
“Maybe we’ll try that, sometime. I’ll tell jokes while you fuck me, and see if you can come while laughing.”
He kneels between my thighs, reaching for my bedside table—he finds the condoms, opens one, and rolls it on. “That could be fun,” he says. “One problem, though.”
I frown, taking his shaft in both hands and guiding it against my opening. “What’s that?”
“I won’t be fucking you.”
I frown even harder. “I’m confused.”
His smile is…well, loving and tender is the only way to put it. “I won’t be fucking you, Laurel.” He bends, kisses me with exquisite gentility. “I’ll be making love to you.”
I turn the kiss hotter, demanding his tongue. “One problem with that,” I whisper.
“What’s that?”
I push against him, driving him into me in a single sudden thrust. “I don’t want you to make love to me right now, Ryder.”
“Laurel—” he gasps, head dropping against my breasts.
I push him away, rise up onto my knees. Ryder reaches for me, but I turn away from him on my hands and knees, presenting my ass to him. He moves up behind me, caressing with both hands. I reach under myself and find him, grasp him, bring him to me. Notch him against my opening, then turn and look at him over my shoulder as he palms my ass.
He groans, hands digging into the generous flesh of my hips, and he slams into me, hips slapping loudly against my backside. “Laurel…”
“Please,” I groan, writhing backward. “Let me feel you go crazy.”
He pulls back, moaning, holds there, just the tip of him left inside me. A few slow thrusts, more of a gentle flutter than anything else…and then, with a resounding spank, he drives in hard—I bury my face into the comforter and let myself wail as he hits me just right, and I touch myself with two fingers, heightening my own pleasure.
Drawing it out, Ryder is still torturing me with those ridiculous fluttering thrusts, only an inch or two sliding shallowly between my clamping channel. I whimper, sob, and now I’m riding the edge, hovering, needing him to fall over. I can’t get myself there, not like this, not without Ryder.
“I need you,” I sob. “Please, Ryder. Please—”
He caresses my bottom where his spanking has me pink and burning. “Please what, baby?”
“Come—let me feel you come. Fuck me, please, Ryder.”
He groans, pushing into me all the way—slowly, so slowly I whimper in frustration.
He pulls back, just as slowly…and eases back in. “Like this?” he asks.
“No, god, no…Harder. Please!” I beg, my fingers flying, but I still can’t fall over the edge, and I know I won’t—not without him, not unless he comes first.
It’s maddening, infuriating, delicious. I need him so I can come this one last time—and I’ve never known this, never needed something so badly as I need to feel him lose control, never needed anyone else’s wildness to complete me.
I need Ryder—his completion is mine; his need is mine; his pleasure is mine.
I nod, letting myself move against him, timing it so I thrust backward as he slides in. “I can’t—ohhh god, I can’t come until you do.”
“Didn’t seem like you had that problem a minute ago,” he grunts.
“It’s new,” I murmur. “I’m right on the edge, but I can’t come—it’s…it’s like it’s stuck.”
“And you think me coming will trigger yours?”
