Page 53 of Bite Your Tongue

As my finger gets deeper and I work it in and out in the same rhythm as my tongue against her pussy, her grip on my hair gets tighter.

“Fuck, Ry—Ryder …” she grits out, and I can feel her heat begin to clench around my tongue.

Her hips thrust against me, riding my face harder and faster as she screams out loudly. The sensation of her ass clenching my finger and her pussy pulsing against my tongue is too fucking much, and within seconds, my balls tingle, and my head spins as she nears the end of her climax.

My cum explodes from my dick, spilling into the shower and onto my thigh. All from fingering her ass and eating her out.

When we’ve both finished, slowly, I pull my hand back and set her leg down from my shoulder.

“Did you just …” The words die in her throat as she stares down at my thigh just before the water washes me clean.

Standing up, I grin down at her makeup smeared face.

“Well, that’s a first for me.” I smirk, still baffled. “I’ve never come without having my dick actually touched or sucked before.”

“Looks like we’re even now,” she coos, her eyes sleepy from her orgasm. “Now what?”

“Now, I’m going to wash your hair before we order our five thousand pounds of food.”

I start to spin her to face away from me, but her eyebrows knit together.

“Don’t you think that’s too … you know, romantic?”

“Has Gemma ever washed your hair?” I raise a brow.

Her eyes move between mine curiously. “Well, yeah. But not when we were naked.”

“Well, consider it the same thing.” I shrug. “Spin around, Brat. Time’s ticking, and I’ve never washed someone’s hair before. Might take me a minute.”

With a practically naked Ryder beside me in bed, I can’t properly focus on my mindless scrolling. Instead, I pig out on the stupid amount of food we ordered in and smile like a damn fool because this is the best New Year’s Eve I’ve had in a long time. The ball is going to drop in three hours. I haven’t laughed this hard since the last time we were together, and I both love and hate that because I’m enjoying this much more than I’d admit to him.

“I’m genuinely concerned,” Ryder says, staring at the television as it plays an episode of a murder documentary I found. “So, you, like, watch true crime shows often?”

“Sometimes, I watch them right before bed,” I say, smiling because I can already anticipate his response. “I find them comforting.”

He stares blankly. “You find this shit comforting? Saylor, a favorite blanket is comforting. A snack. A beer. Hell, even a stuffed animal from childhood.” He waves his hand toward the screen. “This shit is not comforting.”

“Tomato, tomahto.” I shrug, grabbing one of the cookies from the bakery order Ryder placed. “If it makes you feel better, I also love reality TV shows,Desperate Housewives, andOne Tree Hill.”

“What aboutGrey’s Anatomy?” he asks. “My mom loves that.”

“No.” I giggle. “I work in a hospital; I know things shown on there are not how things are done. It annoys me to watch it, truthfully.”

“You watchedOne Tree Hill. Pretty sure everyone’s parents don’t just … let their kids live alone,” he replies, and instantly, my eyes widen.

“Ryder Cambridge, you’ve seenOne Tree Hill?” I gasp. “Are you serious?”

“Oh, calm down. My cousin Sasha did when she came over,” he states boldly. “I just happened to be in the room a time or two and was basically forced to watch.”

Testing him, I sit up in bed, turning my body toward him. “Okay, so tell me then … Team Peyton and Lucas, or Team Brooke and Lucas?”

“Brooke, obviously,” he says unapologetically before shrugging. “Fine, I got sucked into a few of the episodes when she was watching.”

I picture it—Ryder Cambridge in front of a TV, watching a drama-filled show likeOne Tree Hill. Smith would make fun of me so bad when he came home and I was watching it. I wonder what he’d think if he knew his best friend was a fan.

“Why Team Brooke?” I lift a brow. “Why not Peyton? She and Luke are clearly soulmates.”

“Yeah, well … soulmates don’t have to hurt five hundred people just to be together, in my opinion,” he says, reaching for the box of cookies and picking up one of the chocolate ones. “Shit shouldn’t be that hard. You either like someone and want to be with them, or you don’t and you move on.”

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