“You like that?” He circled his hips slowly, and I held on to his arms as my legs shook, my blood beginning to pool thickly in one major spot.
“Yes,” I exhaled sharply, my lips parted, trying to breathe through the fire building.
He continued the slow grind. “I’ve been visualizing you wrapped around my waist all afternoon. I just want to be deep inside you right now.”
“Yesss. I want that too.” My sex swelled, and more damp heat had me aching and needy. I knew my panties were going to be soaked.
He let go of my leg to peel my shirt off, and seeing the lacy cups of my bra, paused to admire. His eyes flared as he traced the pattern where my nipples stiffened through the transparent, silky material with light, teasing fingers. It was just a light enough touch to make me moan with the sizzling heat that attacked my womb.
“Do you have matching panties?”
“You should find out.”
His eyes were fiery, watching my face, while his fingers undid my button and zipper, dropping my shorts to the ground.
“Damn, Taylor...so fucking hot.” His eyes devoured the white lace of my barely-there thong, running his fingertips over the front of the triangle. I yearned for his fingers to touch me. Helplessly, my hips curled against his hand, feeling such incredible need pumping through me. It was like a thirst that needed immediate quenching.
“Ryder...” I went to yank his shirt loose, but he snagged my hands and manacled them in one of his large ones above my head, arching my breasts out.
“This is a good look for you.” His eyes raked over me. “I want to watch you come,” he murmured, and he ran his fingers down the front of my panties.
“Here?” I gasped, heat from his fingers on my sex making it burn hotter.
“Right here.” He nipped at my ear again. “You’re so fucking wet, I can feel it. So fucking wet,” he rumbled in my ear, gently rubbing the lacy material.
With his strong thigh between my legs, the denim rubbing sensuously on the soft skin of my inner thighs, he used his knee to push my legs farther apart. His fingers pulled the flimsy material of my thong aside and rubbed gently, caressing my hot, sensitive folds. My legs were open to him, my back arched against the wall, and all I could do was moan and writhe as he watched, circling and circling the most sensitive group of nerve endings on my entire body, his heated expression looking darkly satisfied.
A finger found my opening, pumping slowly in and out, and my hips thrust out at him involuntarily. I gasped as fine nerve endings grew hotter, wound tighter and kept me feeling strung with short, choppy breaths of air. I picked up the rhythm as he joined another finger, my muscles beginning to tighten around him. His expression was raw, sensual and demanding that I stay connected to him as he controlled my body. It was so intimate.
His fingers moved harder, the heel of his hand rubbing my clit as we moved together.
“I want to watch you come,” he rasped.
“Yes,” I moaned, and when he stretched me further with a third finger, I went over the top, crying out, my body jerking against him with the force of my orgasm. He captured my cries with his mouth, his lips rubbing against mine as the tremors in my body lessened and subsided, leaving me sensitized, my nerve endings humming.
It took a moment for me to find my scattered thoughts.