by Lynne, Donya
He smiled and shifted forward on his chair, obviously preparing to leave. “It’s getting late, and I should probably get home and let you get to bed after your long day.” He began tossing empty food wrappers into the bag.
“I’ll get that,” she said, scooting forward. Instead, she knocked over one of her empty beer bottles. As she lunged to catch it before it rolled off the ledge and shattered on the patio, she knocked the bag into the fire.
“Shit!” She jumped up as the bag burst into flames.
Ryker leaped out of his chair and to the side before the ends of his hair could get singed. “Whoa!”
With fire flaring bright orange, Taylor rushed to flip the switch that would turn off the fire feature in the pit.
The flames immediately vanished, leaving just the bag to continue burning down to nothing but a charred strip of paper before the flames snuffed out.
“Are all your evenings this exciting?” he asked, chuckling.
She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at the mess she’d made, but when he used his hands to mimic the whoosh of fire as the bag had gone up in flames, she couldn’t help herself and laughed as he joined in.
“Stop.” She pushed down his hands as he started making the explosive motion again. “And no, my evenings aren’t usually this exciting.”
He stopped laughing but still wore an effervescent smile that slowly transformed into more of a smoldering grin. “That’s too bad.” He inhaled deeply, his chest expanding, then gently contracting as he gazed down at her mouth.
Something in the air shifted, making the darkness around them come alive. The hairs on Taylor’s arms stood on end.
She quickly smoothed her palm down her forearm, swallowing thickly under his heated gaze.
“How’s your hair?” She reached up as if to touch it, then stopped as his eyes shot toward her hand like those of a predator issuing a warning.
She knew instinctively that if she touched him—if she let just the tips of her fingers so much as graze the tips of his hair—he would do something she wasn’t sure she was ready for.
Biting her bottom lip, she slowly pulled back her hand and let it fall to her side.
Ryker stood less than a foot in front of her, a wall of muscle and sexuality unlike anything she’d ever felt. Even without any part of his body caressing, fondling, or brushing against any part of hers, it was the most excited she’d been in a man’s presence in years.
Maybe he could deliver what he had promised.
Before she could find her voice and tell him she had reconsidered, he swept toward her, cupped her face in both hands, and pressed his lips to hers. It wasn’t a forceful kiss, or rough, or even demanding. It was the kind of kiss that took life in the moment. Deliberate but unplanned. This was a kiss born from simple chemistry. The same way the bag had burst into flames the moment it had landed in the fire, something between her and Ryker had sparked in the silence charged by their laughter.
A startled squeak broke from her throat as she accepted his lips against hers, and her hands shot to the backs of his arms, holding him in place as his large palms released her face and dropped to her waist, resting just at the top of her hips.
He drew her bottom lip into his mouth, encouraging her to open to him. When she did a moment later, his warm tongue lazily but firmly glided over hers. He tasted of beer and barbecue sauce.
Her tongue danced a slow dance with his, their lips sliding together, slanting, tasting, persuading.
Damn, he could kiss, arousing her with his mouth better than her previous lovers had been able to do with other parts of their bodies. If Ryker could fuck as good as he kissed, he most certainly could deliver the goods.
She was just about to pull away and invite him inside when he beat her to the punch, easing his mouth from hers and letting it linger a moment before taking a step back.
“Let me know if you get lonely.” He made it clear that by lonely he meant if she wanted to have sex. Then he rounded the firepit and headed for the steps leading down to the pond. “You know where I’ll be.”
Her mouth fell open. Was he leaving? Now? After getting her all hot and bothered with kisses from another dimension?
She opened her mouth to demand he come back and finish her, but he cut her off.
“Good night, Taylor. Thanks for the conversation.”
She stared after him, the dejection settling over her like a lead blanket. “Good night,” she said weakly. “Thanks for dinner.”
But he was already far enough way that she doubted he heard her.
She stood in the darkness watching him walk the path around to the other side of the pond before disappearing behind the trees.
She needed to put new batteries in her vibrator. Because the only way she was getting any sleep tonight was by masturbating away the delicious ache he’d left unattended between her legs.
Chapter Six
For the next six nights, Taylor watched for him from her patio, her deck, even from her living room window, and every night shortly after eight o’clock, like clockwork, he jogged past.
He always smiled and waved, but he never stopped. He never made a move to jog up her steps and join her.
It was as if their kiss had never happened. And the more days that passed without him badgering her to have dinner with him again, the more she began to think she’d dreamed the whole thing. The sack of barbecued pork sandwiches, the talk of their sisters, the stars, the inferno her clumsiness had caused. That kiss. That wonderful, erotic, soul-awakening kiss.
Had she imagined it all?
On the seventh day—a full week later—she watched and waited for him like she had all week.
And waited.
And waited some more.
Eight o’clock came and went. Eight fifteen. Eight thirty.
Where was he?
Spinning away from the window, she marched to the kitchen, placed the glass she’d been drinking from in the dishwasher, glanced back at the window, went downstairs, and peeked outside the patio door. Still no Ryker.
Enough was enough.
Changing into a pair of nice jeans and her favorite red scoop-neck top, she grabbed her handbag and made the short trek around the pond to his house.
The windows were dark, the house quiet.
She rang the doorbell.
No answer.
She rang it again.
Still nothing.
Was he even home?
She peered inside the window. No lights. No movement. Absolutely none.
Sighing in frustration, she turned and looked up and down the street, as if he would magically appear. Of course, all that appeared was one of the neighbor’s cats chasing a bird as it took flight.
Great. After playing hard to get all week, wanting him to come to her, she’d given in and made the bold move to come to his house and ask him to go to dinner—and how was that for a turn of the tables?—and he wasn’t even home to appreciate that moxie of hers he liked so much.
What to do? Should she wait for him to return home? Ugh, no, that would make her appear desperate or stalkerish, maybe both.
Maybe she should leave and pretend this never happened. Go back to her original plan and keep playing hard to get until he caved and asked her out again. She didn’t like that option either. She wasn’t into playing those kinds of games.
There was always option number three.
She unzipped her purse and dug her hand inside to fish out the notebook she carried with her everywhere to jot down ideas for new T-shirts that came to her on the fly while she was out and about. Tearing out a sheet of paper, she wrote him a quick and simple note, then stuck it between a pair of horizonal slats in his garage door. She knew that when he arrived home and opened the door, the note would fall free, where he would see it and discover what she had wanted to tell him a week ago, before he trotted down her steps and away from her house.
I’m lonely.
Chapter Seven
It was after
eleven o’clock when Taylor looked up from where she sat in the darkness to see Ryker rounding the curve in the path around the pond.
Even without any light, except that from the moon, she knew the instant he saw her. She felt his gaze land on hers, even though there was no way from this distance that she could see his eyes.
As he drew closer, his pace slowed with portent, as if he knew this was the only first time he would get with her and wanted to experience the significance with every step.
He had finally convinced her he was worth taking a chance on. She had finally given in. Of course he would want to add weight to the moment. Maybe even take a victory lap. He would probably gloat later, but that was okay with her, as long as he gave her what no man ever had. If he could do that, he could gloat all he wanted.
When he neared the top of the stairs, she rose from her chair and met him at the edge of the patio.
“I got your note,” he said, stepping closer, towering over her and smelling of musk cologne.
She closed the space between them, studying his eyes for his reaction as she angled her face toward his neck. He watched her closely, breathing deeply, unmoving as she leaned into him. At the last moment, she closed her eyes and ran her nose up the side of his neck, inhaling slowly.
Every muscle in his body tensed, and the tendons in his neck twitched as he fought not to tip his head back and give her room to roam, eventually giving in with a groan as her lips grazed his skin.
“Fuuuuck,” he muttered, his palms gripping her hips more tightly.
“You smell good,” she whispered against his earlobe.
“So do you.” He brought his gaze down to hers.
She’d spritzed a concoction she’d made of peppermint oil and vanilla essence she’d diluted with water on both wrists and the back of her neck. She’d read somewhere a couple of years ago that vanilla was a natural aphrodisiac. Not that she really needed it with Ryker, but given her past failures with men, she would take all the help she could get.
“So, you’re lonely, huh?” he said, running his fingers up her back.
She nodded. “I’ve been lonely all week.”
His full, strong lips curled knowingly. “So have I.”
Her palms brushed up and down his chest. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you come over?”
“Because the ball was in your court.” His grin grew wider.
She arched one brow. “My court?”
“That’s right.”
“When did the ball end up in my court?”
“A week ago.”
Her eyes opened wide and she reared back. “After you kissed me?”
He was full-on smiling now, his straight white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “You mean after I blew your mind.”
She moved to step away from him, but his leaden grasp held her in place. “You did not blow my mind.”
“Like hell I didn’t. You were speechless afterward.” He chuckled, leaning forward as if to kiss her.
She pushed against his rock-solid chest, keeping him at bay. “I was not speechless.” She faintly became aware that he was backing her up.
“Yes you were.”
“You’re full of yourself.”
“You’ve made that clear. So?”
No, not backing her up. Guiding her. He was guiding her toward the patio door.
“So, maybe I’m not lonely anymore.” If anything, she was even “lonelier.” Arguing with Ryker felt more like foreplay than arguing, making her heart pound and her blood flow with the pressure of water blasting through a fire hose.
“Oh, you’re lonely, all right.” He guided her more forcefully now. “You’re so lonely I can smell it.” His steps faltered just long enough for him to tuck his nose inside her hair and inhale before he dragged it down to her neck, where he gruffly scraped his teeth over her skin.
She gasped as her knees buckled. Her fingers fisted in his shirt, capturing thick strands of his hair, which spilled over his shoulders like ebony waves, but at least she didn’t tumble to the ground.
“Mmm, you like that, don’t you?” He scraped his teeth down her neck again, more intently this time.
She whimpered, gushing between her trembling legs.
This was new. Men had kissed her neck before . . . even sucked on it. But none had ever used their teeth on her. Or bitten her. She liked!
When he did it again on the other side of her neck, her fingers twisted uncontrollably, tugging on his shirt, pulling his hair unintentionally.
He growled, forcing her backward again until she slammed into the brick beside the door.
“Seems I found something you like too,” she said, twirling his hair around her fingers suggestively before given it a little yank.
His eyes rolled back as the breath rushed out of him on a lust-filled grunt that made his whole body pulse. With a trembling exhale, he lifted her off the ground, helping her adjust her legs around him as he pressed against her.
“Are we doing this here?” she asked.
“Do you want to do this here?” He seemed more than into the idea.
As hard as he was behind the zipper of those slacks, it didn’t seem like it would take much to convince him that here was as good a place as any. And with her clit already aching with need every time she rubbed against him, she didn’t want to risk losing the momentum to go inside.
She pulled on his hair again, making him growl like a savage. “Only if you want to do this here.”
They were far enough in the shadows that no one would see them unless they were looking, so why not?
He pressed his forehead against hers, damn near purring as he exhaled.
The bricks bit into her back, but the pain added to her arousal rather than diminished it.
His nose bumped hers as he gave her a quick, blazing kiss. “I want to.”
He dropped her to her feet and roughly unfastened her shorts in less than three seconds, practically throwing them down her legs. She stepped out of them and tore off her T-shirt as he took off his belt and unzipped his slacks.
Except for her tattoos, she was completely naked, her pussy trimmed so close she was almost bare.
His hungry eyes focused like lasers on the exposed slit before he fell to his knees and pushed her legs open.
Her thighs were already quaking, her whole body trembling, and he hadn’t even touched her there yet. She didn’t want him to make her come this way, but she also wanted to feel what his master tongue and incredible teeth could do to her.
He didn’t disappoint. From the first lick, she knew Ryker was a man apart. He knew what he was doing. He didn’t just flick-flick-flick. He savored. He sucked. He swirled nipple-tightening circles around her clit. When he gave her the full length and breadth of his tongue, massaging her clit before drawing it up to give her a single flick with the tip, she thought she might explode.
“Stop, stop . . .” She gasped, squeezing her shuddering thighs closed. “You’ve got to stop or I’m going to come”
“Isn’t that the objective?” He tried prying her legs back open.
“Not that way. I don’t want you to make me come that way.” She reached for him, her body writhing as a refreshing breeze blew against her skin and made his hair wisp over his face. “Inside me. I want you inside me when I come. Please . . . ” Her body undulated as she opened her legs again, inviting him to take her. “I want you to fuck me.”
He was already on his feet, fishing a condom from his pocket before letting the luxurious fabric puddle at his ankles with his Calvin Kleins.
As he rolled the condom down an erection that was as thick and impressive as the rest of him, she unbuttoned his shirt, needing to feel his skin against hers. She was still unbuttoning, fumbling with the tiny plastic torture devices, when he hefted her off her feet and pressed her against the wall again. Letting go of her and holding her up with only his legs, which he’d set in a wide stance, he grabbed the two sides of his shirt and tore it open. The last three butt
ons pinged off the glass door and scattered across the patio. As she shoved the ruined fabric down his arms, revealing the sculpted body she’d marveled over from the first time she saw him, he grabbed his cock and stroked it up and down her slit.
Groping his shoulders, she mewled, rocking her hips forward and back, trying to get him inside her.
“Please . . . please now.” She had never begged a man to fuck her. Never begged a man to drive his cock into her like he owned her.
Then again, no man had ever gotten her this turned on. Only him. Only Ryker. Because he knew how to get her hot.
She was already so close—his mouth had taken her right to the very edge—that she could almost feel herself coming around his hard length now.
He was panting as he used his hand to angle his erection, then he gripped both of her hips and thrust forward.
She cried out, blissfully unabashed about who heard her. She was finally going to experience something she never had. Let the world listen. Let them hear her rejoice.
The moment Ryker’s cock rammed home and collided with her anatomy the way metal struck flint, she knew her orgasm was a foregone conclusion. Her insides were already quivering with anticipation as she held on to his shoulders. Her bare back took gloriously rough punishment from the bricks behind her while her vision feasted on Ryker’s magnificent body flexing and contorting. His powerful legs were like columns of bedrock, holding them both up. His carved six-pack abs contracted with each thrust. His imposing biceps bulged as he levered her body against his.
He was doing all the work. All she had to do was enjoy the ride.
And praise be to Jesus, she was about to.
The heat in her body coiled and tightened, sinking deeper, lower, diving into the heart of her core.
This was it. This was it!
“Don’t stop . . .” she murmured deliriously, her hands slapping down on his chest, his arms, his neck as she grappled for anything to ground her as the pleasure began to build like a mounting volcanic eruption. “Don’t stop . . . don’tstopdon’tstop,” she mumbled. “Please don’t stop.”