Page 11 of Kane's Awakening
Chapter Four
Ryker
Little did I know that when I’d agreed to go out that night that I’d be pushed up against a wall a few hours later with some arrogant twenty-four-year-old thrusting into me.
He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he could fuck. I had assumed he was more talk than show because most guys with that degree of cockiness were, but he proved me wrong.
And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love it.
Everything about the situation was out of character for me, but for once, I didn’t care. Sex in the corner of a club with some guy whose name I didn’t even know as rock music blared through the speakers—why not?
His pants weren’t down all the way, just enough for him to release his dick, but mine were down to my knees. I was exposed and vulnerable but too damn horny to resist. If someone would’ve walked around the corner right then, I probably wouldn’t have cared. I just wanted this man to do me like he promised.
The cocky sonofabitch.
It wasn’t gentle. Nowhere close. He pounded into me like he was starving and sex was his sustenance. Raw. Rough.
“Fuck. You’re tight,” he said on a moan as he moved inside me.
I imagined so considering my few month dry spell, even with all the prepping he’d done beforehand. No reason to tell him that, though. He probably got laid a few times a week, and I didn’t want the embarrassment of my inexperience to be a turnoff.
The feel of him was all-consuming. Skin sliding against skin. The heaviness of his balls as they slapped against me only added to the euphoric sensations. And when he hit my prostate with his thrusts, I ground my teeth and tried to hold back from screaming in ecstasy. Which I failed at.
“Oh god,” I groaned as I tilted my head back. “Harder.”
I’d always been a shouter during sex. It was one of those things I’d accepted. Being an attorney, I had to be in control and dominating every day. So bottoming allowed me to give up all control in the bedroom. It was the one place I didn’t have to overanalyze everything.
When he quickened his pace, hitting me in the perfect spot over and over again, my balls drew up and I came like I never had before—a complete hands-off, anal orgasm. He grabbed the back of my hair and pulled my head to him as he buried his face into the side of my neck, groaning as he hit his own peak.
Afterward, he pulled out and removed the condom before tucking himself back in his jeans.
Without him right up against me, a rush of cool air hit my bare ass, which threw me out of my post-orgasm haze and I quickly pulled up my pants.
I turned and faced him, trying to calm my rapid breathing.
He smirked and smoothed down his wrinkled shirt. “That was great.”
“Yeah, it was.”
With the cloud of lust gone, I chastised myself for my actions. Nothing more than sex could come from him. I knew that much was clear just by his refusal to tell me his name. A good screw was all I’d wanted at the time.
So, why do I regret it now?
And why did he have to be so hot?
He was only an inch shorter than me, but his muscles put mine to shame. Broad-shouldered with a long and fit torso, he was like a combination of a gym rat and an Abercrombie model. His dark hair was longer on top and more buzzed on the sides, and even though he had a manly jawline and an air of arrogance surrounding him, there was something almost vulnerable and childlike about his face.
Well, he’s only twenty-four. Of course he’s youthful.
He met my gaze, and his eyes reflected a kind of uncertainty as if he wanted to say something. A hesitance of what to do next? I’d heard about the awkwardness of a one-night-stand but hadn’t experienced it for myself until then.
Just as I was about to break the silence, he turned and walked away, leaving me leaning against the wall and staring after him in confusion.
Honestly, what more did I expect? Anger suddenly boiled in my veins as I pushed from the wall and took off toward the crowd of people.
I didn’t know if the anger came from being pissed off at him or at myself. He’d made it clear all he was after and I’d been a mutual participant. Not his fault I was a relationship guy. Someone who hated meaningless sex.
“There you are!” Anna shouted from a few feet away. She’d been sandwiched between two shirtless men on the dance floor who seemed to be more interested in closing the distance with each other than her. “Where is that sexy G.I. Joe look alike?”
