The Mating Game: Big Bad Wolf(36)

“Your mother said I was going to bore you and offend you. I know you don’t actually want to stay here past the investor’s meeting, but I don’t want you to be miserable while you’re here.”

She shook her head. “I’m not bored at all,” she said with an edge of exasperation in her voice. “I told you that, and I don’t lie. And you’re the one who doesn’t want me to stay.”

“I never said that,” he said indignantly. “Stay as long as you want. Stay forever if you feel like it.”

She flopped down on the couch next to him. “Fine. Maybe I just will.”

“Fine!” He glowered at her, then grabbed the remote from her and turned on the TV. “Have my cubs, for all I care!”

“Maybe I will!” she yelled at him. “Five of them! No, ten! And I’ll invite your mother over to babysit them all the time!”

“Ouch.” He winced. “My mother? Over here? You’re playing dirty pool.”

She reached for the TV remote and turned it off.

He grabbed for it. “Nope. We’re going to watch what you’re you want to watch.”

“No we’re not,” she huffed. “Quit being so noble.”

They wrestled for the remote, and the next thing she knew, he’d pinned her down on the couch. He wrapped his fingers around her wrists as she wriggled beneath him, then sobered as she stilled except for the rapid rise and fall of her breathing.

“What were we arguing about again?” she asked.

Her heart was thrumming and she was acutely conscious of the weight of his body on top of hers. Her panties dampened and sparks of excitement flickered low in her belly. Ryker was looking down at her, his pupils dilated, his full, soft-looking lips slightly parted.

“Um…the remote control? Something stupid? What was it again?” There was a slightly dazed cast to his expression, as if he’d taken a blow to the head.

“I can’t remember. I can barely form words right now,” she said, her voice gone husky.

She could feel his heart hammering against her breasts, and her nipples were tight, painful peaks. Her gaze was locked to his plump lower lip. She wanted to lick it. Bite it. She wanted…

Before she could properly fit her mind around what she wanted, much less voice it, Ryker bent his head and, with the softest of touches, he kissed her.

It was firm but sweet, his mouth torturing her with slow, deliberate motions. She parted her lips for him and the very tip of his tongue touched hers, flickering softly, then stroking and exploring as he deepened the kiss.

His hands went to her breasts, squeezing the plump curves and pinching her nipples through the fabric of her T-shirt and bra. She gasped against his mouth, then made a little noise of disappointment when he drew away from her…until she saw the wicked promise in his eyes.

He whipped his T-shirt over his head, exposing his muscular chest, the toned planes of his flat stomach, and a touchable, kissable expanse of smooth golden skin. He flashed her an irresistibly crooked grin. “Race you.”

Daisy was out of her clothes so fast she was surprised she didn’t get friction burns. As Ryker struggled out of his own garments, she discarded her T-shirt and jeans and flung her bra away with such enthusiasm that it ended up dangling from the ceiling fan.

She glanced at Ryker, who was gloriously naked and looking incredibly smug and…oh, my…impressively erect.

“No fair, you had a head st—” she began.

Ryker hauled her onto his lap so she straddled him, and claimed her mouth with his. The hardness of his cock press tantalizingly against the damp fabric of her gusset and her pussy clenched with the desire to have that hot length throbbing and thrusting inside her. His kisses were hard, intense and demanding, and she writhed against him, frustrated by the flimsy barrier of her panties between them. She tried to pull away, but Ryker wrapped his arm around her waist and ripped one side of her panties between his hands before tugging the fabric out of the way so she could sink onto his pulsating shaft.

She gave a low moan as he filled her, their bodies fitting tightly together like puzzle pieces, their breaths finding the same rhythm as she began to move above him. He caressed her hips and ass, squeezing her ample flesh, guiding her as she rose and fell. The position was awkward, but she was beyond caring – the burn in her thighs as she worked herself against him was barely a murmur of sensation in comparison to the liquid arousal surging between her thighs and rising through her body in an intoxicating flood.

Ryker’s grip on her hips was hard, now – almost bruising – and she was panting with exertion as he helped to set the pace. He met each downward roll of her hips with an upward thrust, and as she sank down again her orgasm crested inside her and washed over every nerve ending, every erogenous zone, sweeping away all thought.