Page 36 of Ignite

I didn’t know how or why I knew, but this wasn’t about me. It wasn’t about Rylee and me, or even about us. Rylee was hell-bent on revenge fucking someone out of her life and I just happened to be the right guy in the right pub at the wrong time. Did I care? Hell, I’d promise to return the favor and tongue fuck her so hard, she’d never remember his name. Whoeverhewas.

Why hadn’t I tried to find out who her ex was?

“Wallet,” I moaned, pointing to my jeans.

Credit and membership cards flew across the room while she snatched the foil packet, ripped it open with her teeth before shoving the latex over my cock.

Thinking she’d at least have to slow down and let me help her strip down to bare skin, I had a crazy need for conversation.

What did this mean? Were we a one-night stand? Something never to be mentioned again?

A collision course we’d been on since the accident?

Why did she look so determined? The desire and passion from the bar had disappeared. Now, she had an intense look of concentration—as if this was an exam to be taken and finished as quickly as possible.

We needed to stop. I needed to stop and—

Rylee reacted to my deep breath as I prepared to speak. Her fingers pressed to my mouth, taking away my chance for questions. This time when she straddled me, she hovered above my sheathed cock and slapped away my hands that were only trying to help.

Instead, she reached between her own legs, and I felt my cock graze against her thighs as she pushed me past her panties, not letting go until I was comfortably in my new home. Her warm tightness gripped and squeezed me until breathing became an optional extra.

Hot damn, holy hell and damn me to it.

Rylee had me as naked as the day I’d been born, while she remained fully clothed. Hot as holy fuck.

Her hips started a gentle motion, back and forth until I started feeling the tsunami rise again. Hardly recovered from the blow job, once she started raising her hips up and down along my shaft, there was no way I could hold on and give her the ride of a lifetime. Not unless she slowed down. But the more I tried to slow her hips from slamming down, the harder she rode and the more she scratched at my chest. I’d never been into the whole pain thing until Rylee showed her claws.

Now? It could become my favorite pastime. Being scratched. Being ridden.

Being with her.

“Baby, please slow down, or I’m gonna—“

“Then, do it,” she snapped, not breaking stride.

“But Rylee?”

“Do it.” A command, not even a sexy suggestion or challenge.

“Rylee!” No matter how much I wanted to blow, I couldn’t leave her at the starting gate.

“Ethan.” She momentarily stopped, her eyes and voice cold. “Either you come now, or I’ll find someone who will.”

Crap. I didn’t know whether she was mad, turned on, or just insane, but her words and hips shared their own language with my body.

I closed my eyes and raised my head to look at the ceiling instead of the beautiful woman riding me at full throttle.

For her, I needed to hold on. I needed to at least last longer than a commercial break.

Think unsexy thoughts. Think unsexy thoughts.

Impossible, when the woman who’d defined every sexy thought since the moment she’d crashed into me was straddling my cock and expecting me to come on demand.

I tried to find a speck of dust, a moth, a spider web, anything on the roof to focus on rather than dive into the warmth that was Rylee.

“Come on!” This time, she slapped my thigh—in frustration? Shit. We’d been going at it for minutes, not hours.

A second slap and then she leaned back and squeezed her pussy until I almost meowed.

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