Page 81 of Love Complicated

I kinda want something naughty and unpredicted. Maybe the floor?

Ridge’s breathing comes faster now, and he creates distance between us and reaches for the hem of my shirt, ripping it over my head. “I’m not having sex with you.”

Did he just say that? You heard, right? My cheeks burn like he’s denied me. “But—”

Ridge shakes his head, our eyes locked on one another in the dim lighting of his trailer. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t fuckin’ walk. Something I’m sure your husband hasneverdone.”

Oh. Shit.

Good God, is he real? He can’t be. They don’t make guys like this. He’s probably like those men in the erotica novels I read. Mythical creatures who women like meneverfind.

But look at him, he’s fuckingreal.

“I. . . .” I swallow unable to comprehend what he’s saying to me. “Uh. . . .”

“You don’t need someone to make love to you.” He dips his head until our stare doesn’t waver. “You need a man to own you. You need a man to ruin your pussy for every other man who comes after him.”

Yep. That’s exactly what I need.

His hands move to his belt, fumbling with the buckle, but I don’t look. I can’t stop staring at the man who’s claiming to ruin me for every other man.

My stomach jumps, knowing this is happening. Ridge and I are finally going to have sex, or eh, in his terms. . . fuck. Letting go of his belt, his sure palms cup my cheeks, kissing me so deeply I’m drowning in him, and I never want to surface from this.

He takes my body in his hands, a slow descent to the floor of his trailer. “Just so we’re clear, Aly,”—his words hit my neck, his harsh breathing amplifying its meaning—“no man will ever be inside your pussy again. Only me.”

Yes, Master.What. The. Fuck?

He lays me down and then kneels before me. I watch the muscles in his stomach and arms, flexing with each movement. His knees spread once he’s on the ground, sliding against the laminate floor. His hands are on me, rough and wild, yet steady and patient like he’s memorizing a beautiful canvas before him.

His fingers move to the band of my jeans, sliding across my exposed skin to meet in the middle of the button. His touch burns, ignites my every nerve. My heart races, my eyes drift closed. “So goddamn beautiful.”

I pry my lids open, but he’s not looking at me; he’s watching my body curve around his as if that’s exactly what he’s been wanting, to see and feel me like this. His jeans are still on—as mine are—when he grinds his hips into mine, and I feel his arousal, hard and straining against his jeans.

His mouth finds mine; it’s eager but controlled in the sense that I can tell he’s not just some overeager kid anymore.

He gets the button of my jeans undone with one hand.

Although I feel like everything is happening so fast, he’s not rushing. He moves both hands from my waist and lower to the backs of my knees, hooking his hands around them. He brings both my legs to rest on his left shoulder. His head moves to the side pressing my calf against his hot ear. With a smile, he takes his shirt off next with his right hand and puts it over my face, chuckling.

It smells like him. Dirt and methanol from the cars, but there’s that distinct Ridge smell that melts me on the inhale. It’s everything I want to remember.

I remove the shirt to see him staring at me. There’s a slight grin that hasn’t faded, but it’s more the intensity in his eyes that makes me nervous.

Taking the shirt in my hand, I place it on my chest covering my tits. Ridge smiles, knocking it away and then puts his hands back on my hips, dipping his fingers inside the waistband of my jeans. “Don’t hide yourself from me.”

He gives me a wink, and I lift my hips for him. Slowly, he pulls them down and up over my thighs as his knuckles graze my skin. When they’re at my ankles, he tosses them near his shirt on the floor.

I’m not sure what he’s going to do next, but his mouth is lingering on my skin.

“When was the last time you got off?” he asks, still looking at my calf and then giving it one more kiss.

I bend my knees, sliding my feet down his bare chest. “Last night. Thinking of you.”

He stops, grabbing my ankles and spreading my legs for him, biting at my leg. “Did you get yourself off, or were you with someone else?”

Instinctively, I squirm under the pressure of his teeth. “Myself.”

“You’re never to touch yourself again,” he orders when my legs are spread, and my lower half is now completely bare for him. “That’s my job from now on.”

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