Page 146 of Pucking Wild

“I know what I deserve,” I say, my walls hardening as I fight him even now.

“Thentellme,” he challenges, his gaze fierce and direct. He’s not backing down. “Tell me what you deserve. Say it out loud.”

I lean away, my hands going to his wrists as I try to pull him off me, break our connection.

He huffs, watching me squirm, even as his hold on me is gentle. “You talk a big game, Tess. You’re larger than life—your opinions, your ambitions. And you put on such a good act for everyone. Laughing Tess. Fun Tess. Flirty Tess. You wear those labels like they’re party masks, floating through life just hoping people won’t actually try and see who dwells underneath.”

“I know who I am,” I counter, knowing it’s bullshit. So does he. For better or worse, Ryanknowsme. It’s barely been a few months, but he knows me. Certainly, better than Troy ever did.

“Scared Tess,” he presses, keeping me captive with the truth. “Lonely Tess. Angry Tess who just wants to feel something, right? How many times have you said it to me? We’re friends who fuck to feel good. But you don’t want mindless orgasms. And I don’t want anything Cami or Cleopatra or any other woman has to offer. How could I whenyouexist?”

“Ryan, please…” He’s still looking at me like I’m his world. It’s overwhelming and humbling and I don’t know how I deserve it. I don’t know how to earn it.

“You deserve a second chance, Tess,” he says, reading me like a goddamn book. “At everything—love, adventure. I want to help you.” He brushes my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. “You’re my dream girl. So long as you’re on this earth and breathing, I know what I want. I know what I’m working towards.”

And now I’m clinging to him, words failing me. I need him to see me. I need him to understand how my vulnerability works. Sometimes I can’t speak. Sometimes I can only do. I gaze up at him, reaching out with my soul, begging him to catch me as I fall. Begging him to let us fall together.

Stepping in, his left arm wraps around my waist as he cups my cheek with his right and tips my face up, searching my lost expression. “You’re not ready to tell me how you feel, and that’s fine. But Tess, you are gonnashowme.”

“How?” I say, willing to try. “What can I do?”

“Show me how you feel. We’re done fucking without feelings. We have been for a while. So, take off your panties and put them on the counter. Now.”

My insides flutter with need and anticipation. “Ryan—”

“Don’t say another word,” he says, his fingers pressing against my lips. “You’re gonna show me how you feel about me, Tess.” He releases me, stripping out of his T-shirt and dropping it to the kitchen floor. “We’re fucking with feelings. All of them. Every single one. Give me your rage and your passion, all your broken fucking dreams. Show me how much you care.”

Oh, thank God.

I don’t have to say it. Our communication goes so much deeper. Souls can speak with more than words, and mine is crying out for him. It’s almost like I can hear his, too, calling to me, begging me to come home. Come find him. Come set his world back on its proper axis.

“Show me,” he pleads again, kicking off his shoes.

I lift my shaking hands to the opening of my long, white sweater and peel it off my shoulders, dropping it to the floor. He takes me in, standing in the middle of the kitchen in my simple wrap dress. It’s black with little red and white flowers dotting the fabric. Slowly, I lift my hands and undo the tie at my waist, tugging the front open until I can drop the dress to the floor.

Now I’m standing in the kitchen in my plain white bra and blue cotton panties. But Ryan is looking at me like I’m wearing the finest La Perla. He steps in, shirtless, and grabs me by the face, pressing his lips to mine, savoring my kiss. It’s fast and hard and then he’s pulling back, his fingers digging into the skin of my back, unhooking the clasps of my bra. Gently, he drags the straps from my shoulders, tossing the useless bra to the floor.

“Show me the way you ache for me,” he commands. “Show me the way your body craves mine like a drug.”

I nod once, reaching out for him.

But he leans away. “Your panties, Tess. I told you to take them off.” He shucks his athletic pants to the floor, stepping out of them, his hand palming the bulge in his grey boxer briefs. “Then put your hands on the counter and bend over.”

Usually, our lovemaking is like a dance. He’s fun and playful, letting me tease him and domme him and devastate him with my toys. His energy tonight is different. He needs something different. My insensitivity at Rip’s has him spinning. He’s craving control. And he wants me to cede my own. I have a choice here. Am I willing to let go?

Holding his gaze, I hook my fingers into the top hem of my panties and shimmy my hips, dropping them to my feet. Stepping out of them, I give him a slow turn before I bend over, ass just in reach of his hands. Picking up the panties with one finger, I drop them down to the countertop. Then, without looking back at him, I place both hands on the counter’s edge and bend at the waist, submitting to his will.

52

My heart races out of control as Ryan steps in behind me, his hands smoothing over my hips, up the curves of my back to my shoulders. I fight a shiver as he presses in, the hard length of his erection still trapped inside his boxer briefs as he leans over me.

“I’m only going to say this once,” he says, his fingers brushing up the column of my throat. “Lookat me.”

I gasp as his right hand reaches around to cup my chin and he jerks my face back, twisting my neck. My gaze trails down the length of his arm to his face. It blazes with passion and pain. I hurt him tonight with my dismissal, my feigned disinterest. I see it etched on every line of his handsome face.

“You will never push me at another woman again,” he declares. “Say it.”

Tears sting my eyes as my heart squeezes tight. “I’ll never push you at another woman again.”

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