Page 55 of Rookie Season
“Oops,” she says, echoing me earlier.
I still inside her, laughter rocking my shoulders. “You want everyone to know how satisfied you are, I don’t mind. Not one bit. Everyone deserves to have a great Christmas.”
I withdraw my finger, then press it back in, watching her eyes change color as I do.
“Ryan…” She exhales hard, aroused and impatient. Her hands fist in the duvet.
“Yeah?”
“Can we get on with this?” She wrestles with her lip, her hands reaching for my pants.
“You’re not used to taking it slow,” I realize.
The expression on her face is enough admission.
I glance back over my shoulder at the window. It’s pitch black. I’d guess midnight, give or take.
We have hours.
“I want you to touch me. I want to feel you come on my cock more than anything I’ve ever wanted. But first, I’m going to make you come so hard you’re crying for it.”
15
SIERRA
Tonight, out here in the wilderness, far from home, the snow outside wraps around us like a cocoon.
My skin burns everywhere the air touches it, as if steam could rise off me like it did the hot tub earlier.
Ryan’s over me, his body almost laughably perfect. His shoulders are round, his biceps flexing. There are more muscles than I can name.
The little fairy lights glint behind him, forming a halo around his body.
But it’s his focus that has me feeling as though I’m in for it. I’m not sure I’ll survive tonight. The way he touches me as if I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen is getting to me. It’s hard to keep him at a distance when it feels as if he’s crawling inside my skin.
Especially when he says, “I’m going to make you come so hard you’re crying for it.”
Ryan got even hotter in the last year.
I don’t want to fight with him. I want him, want everything he can give me tonight even if I know tomorrow it’ll have to go back to the way things were.
“Relax,” Ryan insists.
There’s nowhere to put my hands. I trail the fingers of one over the duvet.
He grins and returns to work. His fingers are wicked and so damn big. He pumps in and out of me, slow strokes that hit me in so many right places I didn’t know I had.
His thumb brushes my clit with impossible lightness.
It should be barely noticeable.
It’s the only thing I can think about.
“Damn, you’re good at that.” My voice trembles at the edges.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “You feel so perfect.”
His praise lights me up. My hand fists in his hair, the strands soft and silky against my damp palm. I grind my hips harder against him.
