…
Jamison gasped, trembled, tried to press herself even closer to Ryder. He was killing her with his patience, killing her with his ability to hold off his own need so that he could stoke hers. She wanted him, needed him, was on the brink of ripping his clothes off and forcing him to f**k her and he was acting like he had all the time in the world.
But, God, he felt good against her, so good that she was going to lose it completely if he didn’t do something soon. He’d barely touched her and already she was trembling on the brink of orgasm, ready to fly over the edge at the slightest provocation.
She tried to fight it, tried to hang on. She’d waited so long for this moment, had dreamed for so many years about what it would be like to hold Ryder, to kiss him, to f**k him, that she wanted to make it last forever. Especially since there was no guarantee this would ever happen again.
Though she didn’t tell him—would never tell him of her desperate, shadowy thoughts—Ryder seemed to understand her need to draw this out. Or maybe this was just the kind of lover he was, slow and thorough and determined to draw every last ounce of response out of her. Whatever it was driving him, she was grateful. And determined to enjoy the ride.
But then Ryder bent to her breast, nipped at her areola, and her body wigged out, a scream of frustrated need welling up inside of her. The only thing that kept her quiet was the knowledge that he would finish things—finish her—if he realized just how torturous his attentions were becoming for her.
But when he bit her again, then carefully laved the sting until only the memory of it remained, she lost the fight. No man should be so tender and so controlling, so selfless and so domineering all at the same time. How could she resist him? How could she keep herself from falling even more deeply under his spell?
She couldn’t. The thought tore at her even as she clutched his head to her breast, relishing the soft, sweet brushes of his tongue and lips. “Ryder,” she whimpered as he nibbled his way across the vulnerable underside of her breast. “Please. I need you.”
“Oh, baby,” he murmured as he moved to her other breast. “I’m just getting started.”
“Please,” she gasped again, her fingers clutching at his shoulders as she sobbed out his name. Her body wasn’t hers to command anymore, her voice and thoughts and movements taken over entirely by his mouth, his touch. By him and his indomitable will.
Ryder shifted, once again catching her wrists in his big, talented hands. Then he pulled them forward, clasping them in front of her body with one hand.
“What are you—” Her voice was husky with desire.
“Look.” His voice was deep and gravelly, nearly unfamiliar in his desire for her. She felt a sharp rush at the thought that she had done this to him, that she had driven this beautiful, talented, amazing man so crazy with lust that he could barely speak.
Then she followed his gaze, was transfixed—much as he was—by what she saw in the dim lights that ran along the trailer roof.. He’d captured her wrists in such a way that her arms framed her br**sts, plumping the already full mounds up and out for his pleasure.
For her pleasure too, because already she could feel the increase of blood flow to the constricted area. But he wasn’t done, the hand on her wrists tightening so that her arms squeezed her br**sts even more tightly. They actually stung, the air chafing her sensitive skin and too-tight n**ples.
“You’re beautiful, Jamison,” he told her, eyes wide in lascivious appreciation. “So goddamn beautiful.”
She felt beautiful when he looked at her like that, when he touched her and held her and stroked her like she was the only woman in the world. She knew it was a lie, knew he’d probably be with another woman before the week ended, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when he was looking at her like she was his whole world.
Ryder leaned forward, pressing himself against her until the strength of his chest and shoulders was the only thing keeping her upright. Then he bent his head and took her nipple into his mouth.
He sucked her deep and she gasped, begged for mercy. But he had none as he bit and licked, sucked and nuzzled her straight into ecstasy.
Wrapped up in the incredible heat burning through her, the cli**x caught Jamison by surprise. Though she’d known she was close—so close—she hadn’t expected to hurtle over with nothing but the touch of his mouth on her breast.
There was a roaring in her head, a fuzziness that overtook her as a freight train of pleasure slammed through her body. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced and it left her with no choice but to hang on for the ride.
Her body convulsed again and again, wave after wave of ecstasy shooting through her, sizzling along her nerve endings, lighting her up like the pyrotechnic display Shaken Dirty used to close every concert. And then she was flying, soaring, dissolving into the endless night sky.
She came back to earth slowly, shocked at the heights she’d scaled. Uncertain about the amount and degree of pleasure Ryder had shown her. She wasn’t a virgin, had slept with a couple men in committed relationships before. But nothing they’d shown her, nothing she’d ever experienced, could have prepared her for these moments with Ryder. No wonder the groupies always seemed so desperate to find their way into his bed.
The thought chilled her, had her withdrawing into herself. But Ryder wasn’t putting up with that. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly against him as he kissed his way across her bare stomach.
“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he told her.
She stirred against him, unsure of what to say, what to do on the heels of what was supposed to be her first casual sexual encounter ever. Too bad that it felt anything but.
He stopped kissing her abruptly, tilted his head up until those gorgeous onyx eyes of his blazed into her own. “Jamison?” he asked, his voice still husky with desire. “Are you okay?”
And just that easily, she relaxed. Hearing him say her name, knowing she was more to him than some nameless, faceless body soothed her as nothing else could have.
“More than okay,” she teased, dancing her fingers over the bare skin of his chest to play with his nipple ring. She wanted to touch him, to explore every inch of his sexy, gorgeous body before he walked away. Before the chance was lost to her forever. “When do I get to touch?” she asked.
“After I’ve gotten my fill.” His fingers went to the waistband of her shorts, started to unbutton them.
“You haven’t yet?” she asked as he shimmied her shorts over her h*ps and let them fall to the ground. Then she lost the ability to talk as he kissed his way over her abdomen to the top of her lacy bikini panties.
“Not even close.” He ran a finger under the lace, teased the curls at the apex of her thighs. “Open your legs.”
She obeyed instantly, the commanding note in his voice sending shivers down her spine. Still, much as she wanted him inside her, she wanted something else more. “I want to touch you, feel you—”
“Oh, you will baby. You will.” He slid his hand lower, stroked his way over and down her sex.
She trembled, her body teetering on the edge of a second orgasm from no more than that simple touch. “Ryder,” she said, his name an agony of need welling up inside her.
He laughed, a soft, gentle expulsion of air that had her sex clenching and heat sweeping across her belly.
Just that easily, she shattered. Driven beyond thinking, beyond rationality, she clutched at his shoulders. Then turned her head and sunk her teeth into the only part of him she could reach—the bicep of the arm that was holding her pinned against the trailer.
Chapter Fifteen
He froze at the feel of her teeth sinking into his flesh. For one second, two, he was motionless, held in place by a desire so fierce it bordered on obsession. Then Jamison moaned and the spell was broken. And so was his resolve. He’d wanted to spend the night petting her, touching her, gentling her to orgasm after orgasm—she more than deserved that kind of care from him. But there was no way he was going to last all night, no way he was going to last more than a few more minutes before burying himself inside of her.
Determined to give her all that he could in those minutes—and to make her come at least once more before he slid inside of her—he let go of her wrist and crouched down. Brought both of his hands to rest on her bare thighs. Coaxed her into opening her legs before her innate reticence could kick in.
Trying to move slowly, to give her time to get used to him, he once again slid a finger along the edge of her purple lace panties. He never would have taken her for a lace girl—not cool, practical, reserved Jamison—but here was the proof. The sexy panties cupped her sex like a lover, nestling between the folds of her p**sy as he was so desperate to do.
Leaning forward, this time he trailed his tongue along the edge of the lace, relishing each gasp and shiver his journey elicited. “Do you have more of these, baby?” He pulled at the waistband a little before allowing it to snap back against her bikini line with a satisfying smack.
“Yes.” It was a gasp, and barely a coherent one at that.
“I’m glad.” He smiled then, let her see the wicked promise in his eyes. Then leaned forward and with his teeth, ripped the things to shreds.
She gasped and his grin grew wider even as a powerful surge of need tore through him. This was what he’d been thinking about, dreaming about, for what felt like forever.
Jamison, hot and wet, her skin flushed a sexy pink.
Incoherent with need.
As desperate for him as he was for her.
“Please. Ryder.” She moved her hand to his chest. Played with his nipple ring. Stroked her way down his stomach until she got to the waistband of his jeans. “I want you,” she whispered, bringing her hands back up to his shoulders where she clutched at him, pulled him closer.
“Want isn’t enough,” he told her, determined to push her as close to insanity as he was. “You have to need me the way I need you.”
“I do!” It was nearly a wail, one that turned to a high, keening cry as he nipped at her inner thighs with his teeth. He loved the sounds she made, nipped and licked and kissed at her in an effort to get her to make them again. To make more. He was losing his mind, drowning in the fount of her sensuality and he wanted her to feel the same. Needed her to be as desperate, as crazy, for him as he was for her.
“Let’s see about that,” he told her, his tongue darting out to run the length of her sex in one slow, long sweep. She tasted like peaches and honey and sweet, rich cream. He delved deeper, wanting more of her. Wanting all of her.
“Ryder!” Her scream shattered the silence around them and pushed him up to the edge of the line he’d been riding. “Ryder, please. Fuck me. Please, f**k me.”
He loved the pleading tone in Jamison’s voice, loved more the breathless words spilling out of her throat. But it wasn’t enough, wasn’t near enough. He had a fleeting thought that it never would be, that he would want her like this forever. But then she moaned, clutched at him, and the ability to think deserted him completely. All he could do was feel.
The need that had been building inside him for days exploded, turned white hot and dangerous. His breathing was shallow, his c*ck threatening to burst with one more touch from her. He pushed the desire down, fought it back. Jamison would come for him again, this time against his mouth. Only then, when she’d lost all control and inhibitions, would he give in to the lust driving him to the brink of madness. Only then would he take her.
Lifting her right leg, he draped it over his shoulder. She inhaled sharply in surprise, tangled her fingers in his hair. He gentled her, angling his shoulders so that he could support her weight. Whispered to her of everything he was going to do to her. Then leaned forward and thrust his tongue as deeply inside of her as he could reach.
She went wild, her body thrashing against him as she arched her h*ps and clutched at him. He held her still, stopped the bucking of her h*ps with a heavy hand on her stomach and continued to take her higher. She was delicious, intoxicating, the sweetest honey he had ever known, and in that moment he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
It scared him, this need he had for her. Had him pushing her higher, faster, in an effort to quiet the feelings raging inside of him. It almost worked, would have if she hadn’t cried out for him, grounding him in the middle of the maelstrom.
“Ryder!” It was a plea, a demand, a cry for surcease, but he couldn’t stop. He had to have her, had to taste every drop of her sweetness, had to take every shudder and cry she could give him. Stroking deep, he concentrated on finding her every sensitive spot and worked to take her higher than anyone ever had before.
When she was just about there, when she was sobbing and pleading and he sensed she couldn’t take any more, he pulled his tongue out of her luscious warmth. Then, slipping his hands beneath her ass, he lifted her up higher, opened her wider, and wrapped his lips gently around her clit.