Page 20 of The Smokejumper's Lady
But then his hands were on my thighs, slow and calming. His voice was all low murmurs and promises. He made me feel so wanted. So safe. So his.
And when he pressed inside slowly, giving me time to adjust, stopping whenever I tensed up, whispering praise against my neck the entire time…it was just…bliss.
God.
I clench around nothing at the memory.
It’s like my body still misses him and wants to pull him back inside, stretch around him again, feel the sweet burn of fullness and the dizzy rush of surrender. Every inch of me is hypersensitive, alive, and aching. The dull throb between my legs is like a craving now. He gave me a taste…and I need more.
As if my thoughts call to him, Ryan shifts behind me, still pressed against my back. His arm tightens around my middle, palm flattening low across my belly. He hums, low and sleepy, lips brushing the curve of my shoulder. It’s like his body already knows mine…like it belongs here, wrapped around me.
“Mm,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep. “You’re squirming, baby.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.” His hand glides lower, fingers teasing at the edge of the sheet. “Thinking about last night?”
Heat rushes to my face.
“Maybe,” I whisper.
“Good,” he growls, pressing a kiss to my neck. “Cause I’ve been thinking about fucking you all over again.”
A shiver moves through me. “I thought you were asleep.”
He kisses the spot behind my ear and nips it gently. “I was. Then you started breathing all fast. Got me wondering if you were touching yourself without me.”
“Ryan!” I gasp, scandalized, but he just chuckles and slides his hand between my thighs.
“I’d forgive you,” he murmurs, voice like melted dark chocolate. “But only if I get to help now.”
His fingers part me with ease. I moan, already slick and ready for him. I buck against his hand as his fingers brush against my aching clit.
“You’re soaked,” he breathes. “Fucking hell, Clea.”
“You did this,” I gasp.
He shifts, sliding down the bed without another word, his mouth replacing his fingers in one devastating movement. His tongue strokes over me with focused precision, like he’s got nowhere to be for the rest of the year except between my thighs. I arch, fingers fisting the sheets, all thoughts fleeing as he devours me slowly, thoroughly, like he’s memorizing every reaction.
“You taste like sin,” he groans, sucking my clit into his mouth.
I cry out, unable to help myself. Everything coils tight, and my body clenches, my thighs trembling around his head.
He pulls back.
“Ryan…” I moan helplessly, aching for him.
“I need to see your face,” he rasps, dragging himself up my body and nudging my legs wider. “Love the way you look when youcome. I want to watch those pretty eyes roll back when you come on my cock.”
I’m panting. Shaking. My body is wound up like a wire.
And then I see him. Fully. Thick and hard and glistening at the tip. I suck in a breath.
“God,” I whisper. “You’re still…huge.”
His mouth twitches into a crooked grin. “You can take it. You already did, baby. You made it fit, remember?”
He presses the blunt head to my entrance and waits. His gaze holds mine.
