by Andrews, Amy
It was her turn to stare, the warm glow of coloured lights throwing the dips and plains of his chest in fascinating relief, deepening his tan and getting lost in the sleek pelt of dark chest hair decorating his pecs. Her gaze trekked south as the hair continued in a thick slab down his abs, disappearing behind the low slung waistband of his jeans.
The noise of his zip was like the drag of a fingernail down her spine, and Juliet moaned, helpless to stop, as he pushed first the denim, then his underwear, down and off. He stood tall and proud in front of her, his abs taut, his shoulders back, his stare still fixed between her legs, dark and hooded and intense.
His nudity was breathtaking, his cock jutting out thick and hard as he shoved his hands on his hips.
It was a thoroughly arrogant pose. Like a prince. Or a feudal lord.
And her body responded in kind, waiting with baited breath for his next royal command, his next move. Knowing she’d do just about anything for him in this moment, with the wild beat of her pulse echoing though her ears and her gut and the slick heat at her heart.
Open her mouth. Roll over. Get on all fours.
Beg.
He placed a knee on the end of the bed followed by both hands, sliding them toward her, under her calves and higher still, urging her legs up, lifting them over his shoulders as his abs lowered to the bed, his palms finding her thighs, smoothing up their sides.
His cock disappeared from sight as he flattened out completely, his fingers slipping just under the hem of the jersey at her hips, her calves propped against the flats of his shoulder blades. He settled himself between her legs, his gaze fixed downward as his mouth hovered just above her exposed centre.
“God.” His groan rumbled over her, his breath a soft, warm burr on her inner thighs. “You’re wet.”
Her sex clenched at the rawness of his words and Juliet wondered if he’d seen it—he was close enough, after all. “I’ve been wet ever since you ran onto the field.”
He glanced at her, his gaze travelling all the way up her body. “Really?”
Juliet gave a half laugh, pleased for a release in the tension. “Watching you play rugby was totally hot.”
His hands slid under the jersey, taking it up with them, his gaze following the progress over the slight rise of her stomach and the ruts of her ribs, not stopping until her breasts were also bared to his view. “Thinking about fucking you afterwards was making me totally hot.”
Her belly quivered at his dirty emphasis and the way his palms each claimed a breast, his thumbs brushing against the taut, engorged nipples. She moaned at the stimulus, her breathing a rough, wanton pant.
He glanced up, his gaze boring into hers. “Do you remember I told you next time I was going to use my tongue?”
Juliet’s abs tightened and she drew in a breath too thin and reedy to be of any use. “Yes.”
“Do you like it when a guy does that?”
She was hardly an expert in the oral pleasure department. She loved giving it, but her ex had rarely gone down and she’d never orgasmed from cunnilingus alone. But god help her, she loved the sensation. “Yes.”
His thumbs rubbed back and forth over her nipples maddeningly slow. “Would you like me to do it?”
Juliet swallowed, dizzy with wanting him to do it. To have Ryder’s head between her legs, Ryder’s tongue on her clit. “Yes.”
He dropped his head then, lowering his mouth close but not quite making contact. From her propped position she could see everything. His bowed head, the hover of his lips, the flare of his nostrils as he inhaled the scent of her arousal.
Could see the moment his tongue flicked out and swiped right down her middle.
Juliet gasped at the long, slow lick. An avalanche of heat crashed through her from the backs of her thighs to her buttocks, twisting all the way up her spine to the base of her skull.
His long, deep groan settled like lead into her bones as he glanced up at her. “Fuck. I’d knew you taste this good.”
Her belly clenched, then he went back to it. In earnest. Finding her clit and flaying it with his tongue. Her eyes shut as he drove mercilessly on, her neck losing its ability to hold her head upright, her head thunking against the headboard, his Akubra tumbling off.
There were no fancy moves, no nuance of technique, just relentless pressure in the perfect spot, exactly where she needed it. The hard bead of her clit constricted tighter and tighter beneath the onslaught, mimicking the state of her nipples as he rolled and tweaked them in unison.
A powerful contraction took her by surprise, starting in the lips of her sex, heavy with arousal, and rippling out in hot waves. Juliet cried out at the wonder of it.
She was going to come. From oral. From just his tongue.
He pinched her nipples and she bucked against his mouth, her climax spiralling through her, real and fast, not something just out of reach but here, now, expanding outwards in ever-increasing circles, touching every part of her body.
No man had ever done this, and her heart hammered as much at that revelation as the sensations consuming her.
“Ryder!”
She gasped, stiffened as it intensified, her back arching, one hand reaching for the sheet, the other for his head, curling into his hair, seeking an anchor in the storm of sensations.
As if sensing her need, his hands flattened against her breasts, pinning her to the mattress with his palms as well as his mouth. Not lifting either of them, focussed on his job, focussed on her pleasure.
Pleasure that bathed her in light. Light so bright that it lit up the fevered corners of her mind and all the mysteries of her body. That strummed through her veins and filled her lungs and shook through her limbs. That tightened her thighs around his head and drummed her heels hard against the small of his back.
That grabbed her heart and squeezed.
It rolled through her cells like the tide on a full moon—big and full—leaving her utterly exhausted when it finally rolled away, her cries dying to mute whimpers, her lungs reaching for air, her hand slack on his head, her calves boneless against his back, her body finally losing its shape as it dissolved into the mattress.
“Holy fuck,” she whispered, the fairy lights above her a blur as she opened her eyes. “That has never happened to me before.”
He dropped a kiss on one inner thigh, then the other, before propping his chin low on her abs. His gaze was slow and lazy, brimming with lust and heat, his eyelids leaden. He stroked her breasts lightly with the backs of his fingers and she shivered, her nipples extraordinarily sensitive.
“No guy has ever made you come from head?”
“Nope.”
His fingers trekked south, swirling circles over her ribs and abs. “That is a tragedy.”
Juliet couldn’t disagree. But she knew a lot of women in the same boat. “Believe it or not, it’s quite common.”
He smiled at her as he rubbed his chin against her belly, his rough whiskers scattering goose bumps all the way down her legs. “I’ve never had any complaints.”
She sighed as her abs quivered under his touch. She didn’t have any doubt.
“You just needed a committed vagitarian.”
Vagitarian? Juliet laughed. “That’s you, huh?”
“Absolutely.” His fingers circled her navel. “They call us pussy whisperers.”
She laughed again. “What do they call the poor unfortunates without such abilities?”
“Dud roots.”
Juliet cracked up. “To be fair to all the dud roots out there, a lot of women do need…other stimulus. I’m just telling you this now in case you ever come across someone immune to your special vagitarian juju.”
Juliet smiled as she said it, but a sharp little stab in the centre of her chest surprised her. It was ridiculous to feel anything about future women who were going to be where she was right now. She was going to be in Italy, for crying out loud. Meeting Italian vagitarians.
Another sharp little stab.
“You mean
, like this?” The glide of his right hand up her thigh brought her back to the present. He eased her knee off his shoulder and her foot touched the bed as he freed up his arm. He stroked a finger from her clit through all her slickness to the heat of her entrance and slipped it inside.
Juliet gasped and her belly tensed as her sex clenched tight around the delicious intrusion.
“And this?” Another finger.
“Yes.” She moaned as he pulled out and pushed in again. “Exactly like that.”
His heated gaze locked with hers. “Condom.”
Juliet’s heart rate, not long settled, fired up again as she groped for the condoms. Unable to look away from the feral light in his eyes, she ripped one off the strip from feel alone and passed it to him, her hand shaking.
Sliding his fingers free of her body, he took it and rose, like freaking Poseidon—or whatever rugby god was out there—disentangling himself from her legs, ripping the foil open with his teeth.
The man may have been on his knees, but he dominated the bed. The hair on his chest. The broad, round width of his shoulders. The smooth bunch of his biceps. The very masculine narrowing of his hips and the sling of muscle funnelling to the rise of his thick, hard cock.
So bluntly beautiful. So potently male.
He ruled the room, and her, utterly.
He rolled the condom over the engorged head and down the shaft then grabbed her thighs and yanked until she was fully reclined. Planting a hand on either side of her shoulders, he lowered himself, his eyes fixed on hers as his hips settled and his forearms flattened on the bed, his chest hovering just above hers.
She moaned and shut her eyes as he flexed his pelvis, adjusting their alignment, notching the head of his cock to the wet heat at her centre.
“Like this, Juliet?” His lips were so close to hers they almost touched.
Her eyes fluttered open and her belly rolled over at the intensity in his gaze. He thrust, one quick, decisive jerk of his hips, ripping a cry from her throat. Her nails dug into his upper arms, and she panted for breath. His fingers may have prepared her for his possession, but they had been no match for his cock.
“No.”
She snaked her calf over the top of his, locked her foot around his ankle and pushed on his arms, twisting with her hips, rolling him over, flipping them both until she was dominating him, his cock seated high and hard inside her.
She stared down at him, her chest heaving. “Like this.”
“Fuck.”
He groaned as his hands found her hips, his gaze roaming over her face and the fall of her hair to her bared breasts and farther down to the spot where his body joined hers before drifting back up again to settle on the engorged buds of her nipples.
Juliet yanked the jersey down, reaching for his Akubra and cramming it on her head. She wanted him to remember this night. She wanted him to remember that when he came she was in his team colours and his Akubra.
Just as she was going to.
“God…” His voice was low and rough. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
Juliet smiled, shifted, shut her eyes as she adjusted to his girth, undulating muscles deep inside. He sucked in a breath, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, his fingers sinking into her hip.
“Fuck, that feels good.”
“Oh yeah?” Her eyes opened and she grinned at him as she did it again, gripping his cock tight inside her then releasing.
He shut his eyes this time. “Oh yeah.”
A spark flared to life at the point where her body joined his. The spark caught and they both gasped.
She moved then. Up and down. And around. Taking him in and out of her body in long, slow glides that snatched at her breath and kicked at her chest. The rumble of low insensible noises coming from the back of his throat fanned the spark.
He opened his eyes, his thumb sliding into the slick heat between her legs, finding her clitoris. She moaned and his hips jerked up, thrusting his cock deeper. Juliet gasped as he held himself pressed high and tight, right to the hilt, as far as he could go.
The wild throbbing in her chest spread south, pulsing through her clit and taking up residence deep inside. Her fingers curled into the balls of his shoulders.
He eased his grip then, withdrawing a little, but Juliet wanted more. She wanted it right there, right where he was, right where pleasure met pain, where heat and hardness and pressure became unbearably erotic, where they were so inextricably joined she didn’t know where he ended and she began.
Her hips followed him down, her slick walls refusing to surrender his girth, desperate to keep him inside.
“No.” She panted. “Stay. Right there.”
“Juliet.”
He groaned her name as he pushed to the hilt again and she threw her head back, a triumphant growl falling from her mouth. He pressed the pad of his thumb hard against the engorged nub of her clit, and the bundle of nerves spasmed so violently it rocked her head back in place.
She moved then, just a little, hunching into her grip on his shoulders. He moved with her, also just a little, matching her pace as she concentrated on the internal undulation of her muscles, the high, unrelenting pressure of his cock, and the hard press of his thumb.
Not circling, not moving, just constant, cranking everything tighter and tighter.
It was deep and intense, their eyes shut. A long, slow ride that sizzled heat and electricity along every muscle fibre. That spiralled and twisted through her torso and branched through her lungs like tongues of lightning.
The pleasure built and built. Slow but steady, strong and sure, echoed in the timbre of their breathing, from low and rough to quick and shallow.
Building, building, building.
Then it broke.
His fingers dug into her hips, his eyelids flying open. “Christ.” He gasped for air as he held her firm. “I’m coming.” He groaned. “I need to move.”
“No.” It was more a whimper than a command, her eyes opening, too, as her thighs tightened against his hips, holding him still as her own orgasm took hold. “Like this,” she begged, his thumb still pressed to her as they clutched each other tight. “Like this.”
He cried out, rocking into her slightly, pushing in farther than she thought possible and holding there as he ejaculated, his entire body stiff with the effort to stay still.
Juliet’s body stiffened, too, her pulse a loud, furious beat in her ears, her internal muscles clamping tight around his cock as she came, easing into a rhythmic undulation as her orgasm continued, massaging his length, milking him from root to tip.
They clung to each other, muscles tight, limbs locked, barely moving, their eyes fixed on each other’s, their faces grim masks, panting hard as their orgasms wreaked havoc, the pleasure unbearably internalised.
It ebbed as slowly as it had arrived, lessening in degrees, the tension gradually oozing away until Juliet could no longer hold herself upright and she collapsed against his chest.
Chapter Eight
Juliet didn’t say anything, neither did he. She just laid there, her body still joined to his, a slick layer of sweat between them, aware of the thump of his heart beneath her ear as she tried to catch her breath, tried to collect herself.
He recovered first, his hands sliding from her hips to her ribs, his fingers curling into her hair. “Fuck. Me.” His voice rumbled through his chest wall straight into her ear. “I think my brain just exploded.”
Juliet smiled, stupidly pleased, a little trill of satisfaction worming straight into her heart.
He took a deep, shuddery breath. “That was bloody tantric. It’s never been that intense.”
She raised her head, curling her hand into a fist and propping her chin on it, pushing her hair behind her shoulder. Maybe he was lying. Maybe he said that to all the girls. But he did look pretty damn amazed.
“Not even the first time?”
He chuckled, his gaze meeting hers as he lifted a lock of her hair with his index finger. “Definitely
not the first time. It was more like ten seconds than tantric.”
Juliet laughed. She loved that he was secure enough in himself, in his masculinity, that he could admit to it.
“I don’t believe you,” she teased. “I saw you on that field tonight, you rugby guys look like you were born knowing how to fuck.”
He smiled as he twined her hair around his index finger. “Ruck maybe.”
She laughed and he joined her, his chest moving beneath hers, the fine film of sweat building between them hot and sticky. Reluctantly she eased off him, moaning a little as he slid from her body. She rolled onto her back, whipped the jersey off and tossed it on the floor.
The cool air on her heated skin was heavenly.
“Good move.” His gaze zeroed in on how much her nipples were enjoying the cool change. He dropped a kiss on her shoulder. “Don’t move, I’ll just get rid of the condom and be right back.”
Juliet doubted she could have moved had Tiny bounded in the room and jumped on her. Bone-deep satisfaction weighed her into the mattress. All she was really capable of was watching Ryder climb out of the bed.
The post-coital lethargy evaporated at the sight of two round discoloured marks in the middle of his back about level with where her heels must have been. They looked like early bruising and she blushed as she vaguely recalled drumming them against him when she came hard enough to see stars.
“Oh god, Ryder, I’m so sorry.” She pressed her hand to her mouth, mortified at what she’d done. If he was still marked now she must have pounded the hell out of his back.
He frowned and glanced over his shoulder at the spots. He grinned at them like they were some kind of trophy. “All good.”
“That must have hurt like hell.”
He shrugged dismissively like he was used to seeing purple-red marks on his body. Given how physical the game had been tonight, he probably was. “I seem to remember I was eating at the time.”
He waggled his eyebrows at her then turned away, heading into the en suite, his bare ass disappearing from view. The toilet flushed and the tap ran briefly then he was back, striding toward the bed, his long legs eating up the short distance.