Page 115 of Clashing
Ryker had a way of kissing that ignited my entire body, as if his mouth were all over me instead of in one place. After all his talk of punishing me, the kiss was soft. Deep, intimate, and unexpected.
“You want me to show you how creative I got, baby?” He spoke against my lips, hand drifting lazily along my waist and the side of my breast, back and forth at a teasing pace that pebbled goose bumps on my skin.
“Yes.”
He snatched my wrists and pinned them over my head. His mouth returned to mine, one hand keeping my wrists in place while the other journeyed down. A quick grip of my throat, then it descended, tracing my collarbone, lowering between my breasts. He circled one without touching, and my body hummed in need.
“Ryker,” I murmured.
“Scarlett.” He nipped my lip. “Keep your hands where they are.”
He sat up and I obeyed, curling my fingers around the bars of the headboard. With a belt, he secured my wrists to the headboard. He shifted back, straddling my waist, staring. Self-consciousness crawled up my skin. His gaze raked over me, lingering on my breasts. My mouth. My breasts again. All in utter silence.
I squirmed. “What?”
“What, what?” He cocked his head. “I’m allowed to look at what’s mine.”
I shouldn’t have liked when he said that, especially since we weren’t together. The growing pool between my legs didn’t care. I lifted my chin because my bratty mood lingered, and I liked playing with him. “I’m not yours.”
“You’re still saying that?” He adjusted, hovering over me. One hand braced above my shoulder. The other took its time drifting down my body, circling my navel, teasing above my mound.
“It’s true.” I tried and failed to keep my breathing even. “I’m not yours.”
“If you’re not mine,” hooded eyes focused on mine, and he sank a finger inside me, “why are you so wet for me?”
My eyes fluttered, a moan threatening to escape. I bit it back and shook my head. “Finding you sexy doesn’t make me yours.”
He plunged a second finger into me and thrust them in and out. After all the tension from the night, I was already sensitive. His thumb pressed to my clit while he fingered me, and I gasped and arched my back. His digits curled against my G-spot, stroking. I almost tasted sweet relief.
He stopped.
“Ryker,” I whined, crossing my legs.
“If you’re not mine, why should I let you come?” He kissed down my body, teasing me by almost putting his mouth over my nipple but barely missing instead. His attention moved lower and lower. Strong hands gripped my ankles and yanked my legs apart.
He flicked his tongue over my clit, and I jolted. “Say you’re mine, Scarlett.”
“No.” I squeezed the bars of the headboard, barely able to suppress the sounds of pleasure on the tip of my tongue. “I’m not yours.”
The man must’ve had the blueprints to my body. He licked, kissed, and sucked in all the right places at the right pace. If not for his unwavering pressure on my thighs, I would’ve ground against his face. His tongue flicked over my clit again and again, that intense pleasure building—
He pulled back.
“Ryker,” I pleaded. “Don’t stop.”
“Say you’re mine.” He crawled up my body and bit my neck hard. “Now.”
How much more of this can I take?My pussy throbbed, but I didn’t want to end the game. “No.”
Two fingers shoved into me and this time, I couldn’t help it. I tipped my head back and moaned. He edged me to the brink of insanity. By the fifth time, I was dying, curling my toes and trying to press my thighs together for relief that wouldn’t come.
“Ryker,please.”
“You want my cock, baby?”
Are my soaked pussy and hard nipples not making it obvious?“Yes.”
My mouth fell open when he obliged. He removed his boxers and positioned himself between my legs. My body tensed in anticipation. His tip pressed in, then the rest of him. My eyes rolled back. “Ryker.”
