I moan and Sawyer groans, "Yeah. I love to hear you moan. Your moans are so hot."
I bounce on his cock, then he lets go of my nipples. "Stay still for a moment, Claire," he murmurs by my ear. His hand slides between my ass and his groin. His finger strokes my anus. I stay still, panting. The sensations as he plays with my ass are amazing. My pussy pulses around his thick, rigid cock.
He nuzzles my neck, right in the amazingly sensitive place in the crook. As I moan at the sweet sensations, his finger slides into my ass. Having his finger in my ass makes my pussy feel extra tight about his cock. And having my pussy filled makes my ass grip his finger.
He licks my neck and thrusts his finger in and out of my butt. I'm writhing in pleasure on top of him. Then he slips his left hand around my hips. His long, strong fingers find my clit.
"Ride me, Claire."
I pump on his cock and his finger, while he toys with my clit. I thrust harder and faster, and he lifts his hips to slam deep into me-
"Sawyer!" I shriek his name. The orgasm rushes through me like molten lava. I almost fall off him in the power of my climax.
He moans, a low intense moan, then his hips buck up. He rocks underneath me and his long legs balance the bike as we both thrash in ecstasy.
He slides his finger out of my rump as our climaxes ebb away. He kisses my neck and I slump back against him. I lift off him, releasing his cock. He cleans his finger on tissue. I cup his cheek and kiss him deeply.
"You're mine, Claire." He draws something out of the pocket of his leather coat. It's a small box. A ring-sized box.
"Sawyer-"
He flips it open. Inside is a beautiful ring with a gorgeous red stone in a heart shape. "A ruby," he says.
"You aren't asking … what I think you're asking."
"I know we haven't known each other long, and we're both only nineteen. But I want you to know how much I care about you. I want to give you this ring to symbolize our love."
He slips it on the ring finger of my right hand. "It's gorgeous," I whisper. I climb back onto the motorcycle, facing him. "Wow. Now I see the fun in riding on a motorcycle."
He laughs and our mouths meet again in a steamy kiss. Now, I'll never regret another impetuous move because Sawyer has taught me how to kiss, how to value myself, and how to fall in love with the most perfect guy ever-him.
His fingers slide down and he plays with my pussy again.
"You're revving me up again."
"I want to go for another ride," he murmurs huskily.
And we do-because he's fast and he's mine.
# # #
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About Sharon Page
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Sharon Page graduated with a degree in Industrial Design (School of Engineering) and worked for years, by day, in the structural engineering field. By night, her secret identity was "Romance Author".
After selling her first book in 2004, Sharon has indie and traditionally published 20 novels and novellas. Her books have won many awards including two RT Bookreviews Reviewers Choice Awards, two National Readers Choice Awards, the Colorado Award of Romance, and the Golden Quill. Sharon was nominated by RT Bookreviews in 2013 for Career Achievement in Erotic Romance. Sharon is married, with two children, and now writes almost full time.
More Books by Sharon Page:
Sizzling and Erotic New Adult Romance
Yardley College Series:
One Hot Fall Term
One Hot Winter Break
Yardley College Alumni:
Fight for Me (MMA Fighters Book #1)
Erotic and Sensual Romance set in Regency England:
A Gentleman Seduced
Escape with a Rogue
Sinful
Sin
Black Silk
Hot Silk
The Club
Engaged in Sin
Deeply in You
The "Blood" Award-Winning Erotic Vampire Series:
Blood Red
Blood Rose
Blood Deep
Blood Wicked
Blood Secret
Blood Fire
Blood Curse
One Hot Fall Term
Sharon Page
Excerpt
It's only the first weekend in September, but it's cold out here on the dock. I undo my jeans and wriggle to push them down, exposing my butt in thong underwear to the frigid night air. I can see my breath, even though last week it was still summer. Goosebumps race over my bared cheeks. They already sprinkle my arms and chest, since I've stripped down to my bra and my t-shirt is lying on the planks of the dock, on top of my shoes.
I stop and rub my arms, trying to warm up. Am I covered in bumps because I'm cold or because I'm nervous? When I'm finally naked, I'm supposed to jump into the lake. And that rippling, black water looks freezing. Waves slap against the side of the dock. The smell of smoke from the cabin's fireplace fills the crisp air. Music sounds faintly from the cabin and laughter spills off the deck. The sounds of an end of summer party and I have to bite my lip because tears are burning in the corners of my eyes. I'm nostalgic at the best of times, and this weekend-my last before I leave for college-is killing me. In so many ways.
I have my back to Ryan, but I peek over my shoulder. In the pitch dark-clouds cover the sliver of moon-I can barely see him. I hear the boards creak under his feet and his fly unzip, and I hear his breathing. Ryan runs ten miles every morning and evening, and he never seems to be out of breath when he's finished. But tonight, his breathing sounds fast and furious.
Just like mine.
"Whoa Jesus, that's cold."
I take another peek and hear his footsteps as he walks to the end of the dock, out of my field of vision. I suppose I can't ogle him until I get everything off and let him get a look at me.
I've never seen Ryan naked. That's funny and strange, coming from me, but I promised I was going to be different-everything was going to be different when mom and I came here to Milltown to live. It was like starting over again. And by some miracle I found something I thought I'd never find, something I was too screwed up to ever have.
An amazing, sweet, decent-not to mention uber gorgeous-guy. When Ryan went west to do his tour of his future military college in the summer, he sent me a rose. A single, perfect red rose in a crystal vase, delivered to my front door by courier. Why? Because he was going to be away from me for two days and he missed me.
Even remembering it, standing freezing on the dock, I start blinking. Damn, the tears are starting. I promised I would get through this one night without crying. I've got lots of time to cry on the trip to Yardley College-two days to do nothing but think about Ryan.
Tonight I get to see him. I'm not going to screw that up by being sad a day early. Tonight I know exactly what I'm going to do. This is probably it for Ryan and I-he's going to be in the state of Washington at a military school, I'm going to be at Yardley College, in New Hampshire. For tonight, I've decided to ditch the good girl thing.
I'm going to make love to Ryan for the first and basically only time.
I've got one night to throw away all my promises to be sweet and good-the exact opposite of what I really am. I've thought about sex with Ryan for months now, and I've restrained myself. But I don't want to go the rest of my life wishing I'd taken the chance to make love to a guy I love.
So I commit. I shove down my jeans and kick them aside. Undies next or bra? I guess the bra, and it's a fight to unhook it. Bras are my addiction. This one is candy pink with white lace and even though it's dark, the bra practically glows. My breasts bounce as it comes off and tighten as a wave of goosebumps wash over them. My nipples go hard at once and I cup my boobs with my hands in the desperate hope to warm them.
Why-so the shock of the water hurts more?
I have to let my breasts go anyway to ditch the thong. At least I can see my bra, shining like a beacon in the night-like a lighthouse for crazy females about to skinny dip in frigid water. I know where to toss my undies.
Clouds part above me and shafts of silver-blue moonlight fall on us and the water.
"Mia-" Ryan's voice, deep and sexy and low, stops abruptly. Nineteen-like me-Ryan possesses the hottest vocals of any guy at Hubert J. Rory High. Baritone tones and a deep, throaty laugh. The first time I heard him read a section of Shakespeare in English class, I swear I almost had a climax on the spot. And that was for MacBeth.
I turn quickly. A spike of fear-this is going to be it. We're going to be a thousand miles apart. He's going to break up with-
I forgot I'm naked. My breasts swing, nipples perky, the curves limned with silver. But I'm staring at Ryan. Seriously, I've seen David Beckham's underwear ads, and Becks didn't begin to look as good as Ryan. Bulging muscle define his straight shoulders, and his chest is broad and bronzed from the sun. A tattoo of a dragon perches on his left pectoral muscle. Just looking at his arm muscles makes me feel a tug deep inside. A hard, visceral tug telling me how much I want to wrap myself around him and take him deep inside me.