Risky and Wild(50)

“I'll give you the chance to walk away, Lyric,” I tell her as I hit the staircase and start up the curving steps, her body light as a feather in my arms. She's so fucking little and pint-sized and packed with strength. Listen to you, you fucking tosser. Such a sapless romantic now, are we? “But first, I want to make my case.”

“Not that I'm complaining,” Lyric begins as I kick open the door to the dorm room we first fucked in, “but I wasn't planning on running away, Royal.” I pause with her still cradled in my arms, the sharp, short lengths of her hair sliding along her cheeks as she turns her face to look at me, green gaze close, dark red lipstick mussy and smeared. “Something you should know about me,” sharp smile across those full lips, “I don't run from challenges; I destroy them.”

Bloody hell. I'm in deep.

With a rough growl, I toss Lyric onto the bed and climb up over her, the mattress squeaking as it adjusts to our combined weights. I don't touch her, just stare down at the classy woman in the button-up and black slacks, so far beyond my usual reach that I'm having a bit of a challenge believing she's really here for me.

With a careful thumb, I lift my hand up and run the pad of my finger over the slice on her left cheek.

“So sorry, sweetheart. Hardly a week in and I'm already getting you into trouble.”

“Say something British and I'll forgive you,” she whispers, voice hoarse with need as she hooks her heels behind my back and pulls me towards her. The hard bulge in my pants rubs against the warm spot between her thighs as I flash a grin.

“Let's just say I'm chuffed to bits, love, and leave it at that.”

Lyric laughs and threads her fingers through my hair, guiding our lips together for a gentle kiss that quickly comes unhinged, tongues and teeth and lips working frenziedly as our bodies melt together. I start to move my hips, grinding our pelvises together through our clothes as Lyric finds the hem of my shirt and slides her fingers underneath, nails skimming across my abs.

“We should really talk about this FBI thing,” she whispers, but that doesn't stop her from going for my belt, unbuckling it and flicking open the button on my jeans.

“We really bloody should,” I respond, kissing my way along her jawbone, down to her throat, tasting the soft, soap smelling pulse of her skin with my tongue. When Lyric slides her hand inside my jeans and wraps her fingers tight around the rigid length of my cock, I groan, bucking my hips against her hand as I bite her lower lip.

My own hand finds its way down Lyric's body, unhooking the clasps on her shiny, ironed work slacks, inside to find … that she's got on another pair of those crotchless panties.

“These really are the dog's bollocks, you know that?” I ask, but all I get is a breathy laugh in response, one that quickly devolves into a gasp as my fingers curl into Lyric's slick, molten pussy. She works my body while I work hers, the both of us panting and groaning and writhing beneath the other's grip. Animals. We're like fucking animals.

It becomes a race then, like we're trying to see who can make the other come first on the rough, threadbare blanket of the dorm bed. Should be an easy win for Lyric considering an orgasm for a man isn't exactly a difficult feat. Then again, she's never met one with my skill.

I tease her G-spot, dropping my mouth to the thin cotton of her shirt, finding her nipples pebbled and hard even through the double layer of fabric. I take one in my mouth, teeth clamping down against the sweet smell of the fabric softener on her button-up, the gasp and jerk of her body beneath me a satisfying answer to my touch.

I add a third finger, stretching her as I stroke and caress and nibble, her small body coming apart in my hands. When I feel the firm clamp of her muscles around her fingers, I grin, lifting my mouth back to hers, kissing her as she comes hard and fast around me. Lyric's body moves in flickers and pulses, milking my fingers as hers struggle to keep up their rhythm.

I withdraw my hand from Lyric's slacks and lift the fingers to my face as she cracks her lids and looks up at me, enraptured as I slide them into my mouth and taste the sweetness of her body.

“Christ, Royal,” she snaps, sitting up a little, tightening her grip, moving her hand in a long, slow pull that moves straight through me, calls up all the pleasure that's built inside, and draws it right out. I come hard in her hand, my body sagging forward with a groan as Lyric releases me, and I push her down into the mattress. “It smells like cigarettes and mothballs in here,” she muses as we lay panting together, this strange, unfamiliar companionship taking over me, like I could lie here all day and have a fucking conversation with this woman. Like I could roll over and we could watch a movie. Like I want to take her to dinner, move her into my place, have some fucking kids with her.