Page 66 of Well, Actually
I nod, opening my mouth to say something smart back, but he presses against a spot that makes my entire body buck, my cunt squeezing around him as I whimper.
Rylie pulls out his fingers and moves them straight to his mouth, tongue working as he sucks them clean. His smirk turns into a grin as he watches me pant. “Cuz something tells me you actually fucking love it, Kitten.”
I want to argue. I want to say something cutting. Anything to regain some control here, but he’s inside me again, stars blinding my vision, oxygen getting trapped in my throat as I desperately try to breathe.
“And I fucking love it too,” he growls. Then gets back to work.
Finally, when I’m begging and crying and squeezing my thighs so tightly around his head he doesn’t have much of a choice, Rylie lets me come, spasms racking my body for what feels like minutes.
He doesn’t give me a moment to catch my breath, vaulting up my body and kissing me instead, his tongue swirling against mine as I taste myself on him. I’m boneless and useless, finally dropping my hands from the end table and scrabbling to hold on to his back. They fall limply at my sides.
“Give me more, gorgeous,” Rylie coaxes against my mouth. I try to shake my head but I lack the energy for even that. He looks down at me. “I know you can fucking take it.”
I manage to arch up into him, breathing ayesagainst his mouth, the need for him to fill me outweighing post-orgasm peace. Rylie moves back on his knees, rustling around for his jeans that were long kicked off. He fishes a condom from his wallet, rolling it on with shaky hands and just enough speed that I know he isn’t as calm as he’s pretending.
“Presumptuous,” I say, arching an eyebrow at his cock.
“Hopeful,”he corrects, showing me just how much with the way he kisses me. No teasing, no finesse, only need.
Reaching between us but never breaking the kiss, he positions himself against my entrance. He drags the head of his cock up and down, luxuriating in the wetness between my thighs. I start wiggling, needing more, needing to feel all of him.
“Stay still for me, sweetheart,” he commands against my mouth.
My body tenses as I try, the violent strike of my heartbeat making me flinch and twitch.
“I love seeing you try so hard to be so good,” he praises in a low rumble, rewarding me with a deep surge of his hips.
I throw my head back, nails clawing at his chest, swearing as he hits that perfect spot. With a labored grunt, Rylie retreats, only to fill me up again with a demanding thrust. My body inches across the couch as he fucks me, and without breaking his unsparing rhythm, he cradles the top of my head with his hand right before it jams against the armrest. Taking half a second to reposition, he lifts my shoulders so I’m slightly proppedup. I’m overwhelmed by the sight of his body over me, in me. The tension in his arms as he holds himself up, the clench of his jaw, the brush of his chest against mine as he drags himself out of me again.
Rylie’s breath is ragged, lips wet and parted, color high on his cheeks. His eyes lock with mine for a beat, and the intensity, the need, has me clenching tightly around him. His pupils eclipse his irises, nostrils flaring. He reaches for me, fingers dragging down my cheek and then gently gripping my chin. He carefully tilts my head down so my gaze lands at the spot where we’re joined. “Watch, baby,” he says. “Watch how perfectly you take me.”
I’m gone after that, seeing the way his body moves, the desperate, coiled need in his muscles as he works himself into me, the terrifying closeness I feel for this man as he breaks me down to nothing but raw pleasure.
I come around him, crying out his name before I bite his shoulder, nails scoring down his back. Rylie lasts only a second longer, panting against my neck as he twitches inside me, both of us shaking and sweating. All his strength disappears in a blink, and his head is against my chest, limbs tangled with mine. My heart is going so fast, I can see its rhythm at my chest, Cooper’s cheek absorbing every beat. With a great show of effort, he shifts slightly, placing a kiss to my sternum then smiling up at me.
We take turns in the bathroom, then finally make it to the bed. Rylie scoops me up and cuddles me close, my head resting between his shoulder and chest as his fingers trace soothing patterns across my skin.
I feel so unreasonably satisfied, so deeply safe being heldlike this. I release a shaky breath, rationing out all of my courage. “Will you stay?” I whisper against his skin.
Rylie chuckles, and the vibrations of it against my cheek fill me with warmth. “Kitten,” he says, cradling my jaw and using his thumb to tilt my face up. He smiles at me, beautiful and adorned with that damn dimple. “You’ll only ever have to ask me to leave.”
Chapter 16
True to his word, Rylie doesn’t leave my side for the next week unless I push him away with brute force—often off the side of the bed when he says something out of pocket and absurdly ridiculous—and I miss him so acutely and instantaneously, I reach for him with the grabby hands of a toddler within seconds.
We take turns between our places, enjoying the cozy privacy of my sardine-tin-sized apartment and the electric energy of his shared brownstone as we lay low, trying to avoid catching the eye of anyone else on the street.
I can’t seem to get close enough to the man—wrapping my arms around his middle and hugging his back as he cooks me endless varieties of mac ’n’ cheese, crawling into his lap and ripping off his shirt in a frenzy to get him inside me when hesits at his desk to work, absentmindedly playing with his fingers as we watch TV, his arm wrapped around my shoulders as we ride the subway, staring at our reflections in the dirty window with giddy smugness at how damn happy we look.
I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for me to say something too honest and him to run away screaming, for that subtle glaze of boredom to creep into his eyes when we talk, but he hasn’t stopped staring at me like I’m a comet he’s been chasing.
It helps fuel our infatuated haze that we’ve been ignoring social media, pretending a cell signal doesn’t reach our little bubble. We agreed that being dancing monkeys on the internet wouldn’t be the best way to move forward. After spending the last six years scrutinizing ourselves and each other to near destruction, we don’t need the opinions of strangers adding to that. Rylie’s also been focusing all his efforts on promoting Lilith’s fundraiser next weekend, having her and some of her staff members on as guests of his podcast.
Besides,Sausage Talkhas always operated on a hurry- up-and-wait schedule, back-to-back recordings followed by extended lulls while we edit and wait for celebrities and public figures to get desperate enough and publicists to confirm details. I’ve been focusing on admin bullshit and pursuing leads the past week, opting to work from home despite how regularly Soundbites discourages us from doing a hybrid model… I have no doubt they’ll get rid of the option soon enough, all the easier to control us if we’re physically there.
Being out of the office makes it that much easier to avoid William too. His emails are getting progressively more agitated, every subject line marked as urgent, the text essentially asking when Rylie and I will be getting our asses back on theset and creating more content to fan the viewer flames. The pictures of me leaving Rylie’s place the first time we hooked up breathed new life into the social media frenzy, and William’s emails clued me in that more advertisers and sponsors have signed on.
While I am getting my job done and putting more effort into finding something shiny to draw viewer attention and win me some fresh brownie points at work, I’m certainly not doing anything to prolong the spotlight staying on us, and William has made it very clear he isn’t happy about that.
