Page 115 of Faking It Right
“This feels like a prank,” he muttered.
I positioned myself behind him, aligning my cock with the space between his thighs. “Trust me for five minutes. If you hate it, we’ll try something else.”
Ryker sighed. “Fine. But I’m skeptical that anything involving thighs can be sexy.”
“Challenge accepted,” I whispered against his ear, easing my cock between his thighs.
The sensation was incredible as the warm, slick pressure of his flesh surrounded me. I groaned appreciatively, wrapping my arm around his waist to pull him closer against me.
“Holy shit,” Ryker gasped as I moved. “You feel—fuck, you’reenormous. How is that thing ever going to fit in my ass?”
I established a gentle rhythm. “Don’t think about that right now. Focus on feeling good.”
I reached around and wrapped my hand around his cock, which was already hard. The angle was perfect. I could stroke him in time with my thrusts between his thighs, creating a synchronized rhythm that had us both breathing harder.
“Fuck,” Ryker moaned, his head falling back against my shoulder. “How does this feel so good when it’s justthighs?”
“It’s all about friction and pressure, snookums,” I murmured, nipping at his earlobe. “And being with the right person.”
I tightened my grip on his cock, twisting on the upstroke the way I’d learned he liked. His thighs clenched around me in response, drawing a deep groan from my throat.
“That’s it,” I encouraged, increasing my pace. “Squeeze your legs together more.”
Ryker complied, and the increased pressure was mind-blowing. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent as we moved together. There was something extra intimateabout the position. I could feel every reaction of his body against mine.
“Harley,” Ryker gasped, his hand reaching back to grip my hip. “I’m getting close.”
“So am I,” I admitted, feeling the familiar tension building. “You feel amazing.”
Our bodies found a perfect rhythm, moving together as if we’d done this countless times before. I stroked him faster, matching the pace my hips set.
“I’m going to—” Ryker’s warning cut off with a groan as he came, his release spilling over my hand and onto the sheets.
His thighs clenching around me as he climaxed pushed me over the edge. I thrust forward one final time, pressing my forehead against him as I climaxed between his thighs with a satisfied moan.
We lay there, catching our breath, my arm still wrapped around him. I pressed gentle kisses to his neck, savoring the closeness.
“Okay,” Ryker finally admitted in a breathless voice. “I stand corrected. Thighs can be sexy.”
I slid out from behind Ryker, pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder before climbing out of bed. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice still husky.
“To the bathroom.” I didn’t bother to cover up as I walked across the room. “As much fun as it is to make a mess out of you, I want you to be comfortable.”
Once there, I ran warm water over a washcloth, watching my reflection in the mirror. The man staring back at me looked different somehow, happier, more content than I’d seen myself in years. It wasn’t just the post-orgasm glow, either. There was something about being with Ryker that made everything feel right.
When I returned to the bedroom, he was still lying on his side, looking adorably disheveled. His hair stuck up at odd angles, and there was a flush across his cheeks that had nothing to do with embarrassment for once.
“Spread ’em,” I commanded with a grin, gesturing with the washcloth.
He scoffed but complied, self-consciously parting his thighs to reveal the mess I’d left between them. “This is so weird.”
I knelt on the bed beside him and cleaned the sticky residue from his skin. “I can’t have them sticking together. That’s a rookie mistake.”
“Is there a handbook for this stuff I should know about?” he asked, watching me with curious eyes.
“Nope. Just years of trial and error,” I replied, taking my time with the task. Caring for him in that moment created a special bond that felt more intimate than our sexual act. I could have handed him the washcloth and let him do it himself, but I wanted to savor the quiet act of tenderness.
