Page 83 of Love Complicated

I’m still trying to catch my breath, but I can’t wait for him to get that condom on because I want more. So much more.

When he has sheathed himself, he’s back between my legs, his hardness right where I want him. He slides forward but doesn’t slip in. I move slightly, but he holds me in place. “Stop moving.”

“Why?”

His fingers trace my cheekbone.

He gives me a long stare, searching for any regret. “Have you been fucked before?”

How do I even respond to that one?I want to say so many snarky things, but nothing comes to mind.

“I d-don’t know,” I stutter. My heart hammers, the coolness of the floor radiating through me, heated only by his breath. I flinch when his palm finds my bare breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple.

“You’d know if you had been,” he says again, sucking my nipple into his warm mouth. The feel of his soft tongue lapping at my breasts makes me shiver in his arms, unable to control my body around him. “I’m gonna go ahead and assume that’s a no.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to fuck me.” Oh, hey, look at that confident response.

His eyes rise to mine, his jaw ticks. “You should have let me.”

“You scared me, back then.” My legs wrap around his waist a little tighter. “Show me what I’ve been missing.”

As with anything, Ridge doesn’t respond when you want him to. Everything is on his terms. His lifts his dark eyes and scans his trailer. I’m not sure, but it must dawn on him right then that we’re on the floor and we might want something a little more comfortable. None of that matters to me. I don’t need a bed or anything else. I just need him. “Should we go to the bed?”

“I thought you were going to show me how a man fucks?” I raise an eyebrow, lifting on my elbows. “Or was that all talk?”

Oh, look at that glare I got. The muscles in his body tense, his right hand splaying over my chest as he pushes me back down on the floor. “Shut the fuck up.”

Okay, I know what you’re thinking. . . don’t let him talk to you that way, Aly. But you’re wrong. And here’s why.

It’s.

Fucking.

Hot.

And I need to be talked to like that. I want someone to own me, control me, take me in a way that will erase every other man’s touch.

Ridge does that for me.

He’s not waiting any longer, his patience gone as he enters me in one swift action.

We both gasp when he’s in—breathing escaping me entirely—but all I can do is inhale a much-needed breath that I need to stay alive this close to him.

Ridge doesn’t move right away, his eyes on mine when he does, a slow movement as if he’s wanting this to last, or waiting to torture me. Probably the latter. This is Ridge we’re talking about.

He yanks on my hair, making me arch, beg, scream. . . my shoulders meeting his torso and he bites at the tip of my ear. “Beg for more.” He kicks my legs open further, pounding into me. He thrusts cruelly, making me squirm, every bone in my body screaming to get away from his harsh touch but he’s right; it’s what I crave.

“I’m not begging you.”

“No?” he asks, halting his movements.

I cave. “Fuck me harder.”

He chuckles under his breath, kissing my lips, then my cheek. His lips meet my ear, and he whispers, “I own every part of you.” Then he flips me over, my stomach pressing against the floor, my ass in the air. It’s so quick I don’t have time to object, not that I would have. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not wrong.” He pounds into me, filling me from behind. He’s so big. I know women say that all the time but goddamn, I can feel him hitting my cervix, each sharp painful thrust. But then comes the pleasure.

My elbows shake, and I look over my shoulder at him.

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