by Mari Carr
He knew he was being a fool to forgo the condom, but there were two fundamental truths that outweighed all of his fears.
One, Darcy wasn’t Denise, and while he struggled with trust, there was a persistent voice inside that told him he could trust her, that he did trust her.
And two, apparently, he was a fucking caveman.
He wanted to come inside her, mark her as his own. It was a new emotion for him, but damn if it wasn’t a powerful one. He’d never wanted to possess a woman, claim her.
But as he looked at Darcy in her bra, her cheeks flushed with arousal and maybe a little bit of embarrassment, it was all he could do not to beat his chest, toss her over his shoulder, and drag her to his cave.
Darcy began to unbutton his shirt, her fingers trembling slightly as she slipped each one free. Throughout, her eyes never left his. He recalled her doing the same thing in the elevator the night of Halloween…and that night so many years ago.
Once his shirt was open, her gaze drifted lower as she ran her hand over his chest. Ryder reached around her and unhooked her bra, drawing the straps over her shoulders.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.
She smiled shyly. “So are you.”
Ryder bent his head to kiss her again, unable to resist the feeling of his lips against hers. As they kissed, he pushed her backwards, one slow step at a time, until they reached her bed. Her bedroom was larger than he would have expected, and mercifully, she had a double bed, not a single.
Ryder unfastened her jeans, drawing the zipper down. They worked together to tug down the tight denim as well as her panties. She’d been barefoot all day, not bothering with shoes in her own house.
Once she was completely naked, he took a step back so he could look at her. Darcy, though inexperienced, possessed a confidence he found captivating, attractive. She’d been raised in the midst of a loving family, who’d instilled in her a strong sense of self-worth.
“Lay down on the bed, Buttercup.”
She sank onto the mattress, scooting to the middle, leaning back and supporting her weight with her hands behind her.
He shook his head. “Lay down,” he repeated, perfectly aware he was pushing her. He was still essentially dressed, only his shirt hanging open, while she was completely naked. Lying down while he stood would make her feel even more vulnerable, but Ryder wanted her to know she never needed to feel that way with him.
She dropped down, her long hair flowing over the pillow beneath her head, framing her heart-shaped face like a dark-chocolate halo. Her bright blue eyes never left his face and he felt as though he could see straight to her soul through them. Darcy was so open, so guileless, able to express her emotions so freely. He could see her excitement, her desire, her happiness.
“So fucking beautiful,” he repeated, smiling.
“Ryder,” she whispered when he sat on the edge of the bed next to her. “What about your cloth—”
“I’m not rushing through a single second of this, Darcy. It’ll be hard enough for me to hold back once I’m inside you. It’s been too long…and God, I want you so bad.”
She tried to sit up once more, but he pressed her down with a firm hand on her shoulder. “Lie still.”
Ryder toed off his shoes, then shifted, crawling over her until she was caged beneath him. He kissed her again, taking his time with her lips, before moving on, exploring her cheeks, the sensitive spot behind her ear that produced the cutest little squeak when he licked it. Then he kissed her down along her throat, licking a path all the way to her breasts.
Her chest was rising and falling, her breathing accelerated, her entire body flushed with arousal. He lowered his head and took one of her rosy nipples into his mouth, sucking on the tight nub as Darcy began to wiggle, her hips lifting from the bed.
He took his time with her breasts, using his mouth and fingers, toying with her nipples, squeezing them, cupping them.
Darcy’s head twisted from side to side, her eyes closed, her hands fisted in his hair. She’d begun to whisper her pleas for more, for everything.
Ryder lifted his head briefly and shrugged off his shirt, tossing it to the floor by the bed. Darcy’s eyes opened, her fingers tracing his muscles, his nipples. She unbuttoned his jeans as he watched, then slowly slid the zipper down.
Ryder held his breath, praying he’d find the strength to hold on. It had been too many years, and she was too perfect.
Her fingers accidentally brushed the head of his dick as she lowered the zipper, and he hissed, pulled away. She frowned, obviously thinking she’d hurt him.
He shook his head. “You can’t touch me. Not this first time. Jesus. Maybe not the first twenty times. It’s been too long,” he admitted.
“Twenty times,” she repeated, grinning, even as she nodded her understanding, unresisting when he grasped her wrists and raised them to the pillow under her head. He pressed them firmly for just a moment.
“Keep your hands there. Just like that,” he murmured deeply. “Surrender to me, Darcy.”
She trembled but not in fear. “Yes,” she whispered.
God. He was suddenly sorry he’d taken bondage off the table for tonight. Darcy’s desires hadn’t been born out of an innocent woman’s curiosity. She was truly submissive, her easy acquiescence drawing out his dominant side.
He didn’t remove his jeans. Not yet. He couldn’t. The second he released the beast, there was no way he could stop himself from taking her.
And he wouldn’t do that until she came first.
Ryder slid down, pushing her legs farther apart.
“Oh God,” Darcy whispered shakily.
Ryder smiled, aware she couldn’t see the response her words prompted. He licked her, one long stroke of his tongue along her slit as she trembled harder.
“So good. It’s all so good,” she said, her words so Darcy. She wouldn’t hold back anything, not her responses, her words, her feelings.
Ryder placed his thumb against her clit as he licked her again, applying pressure, wiggling it, and Darcy jerked as if struck by lightning.
“Omigod. There!” she said, as if he couldn’t tell he’d struck gold for himself. “Right there.”
He continued to move his thumb, varying the pressure and the speed until he knew she was getting close. With his other hand, he slid two fingers inside her wet, tight heat. Darcy’s back arched and she cried out loudly.
“Holy shit! Yes!”
He was glad they were alone in the apartment because there was no way her cousins wouldn’t know what was going on after that. He’d only stroked in and out of her pussy half a dozen times, his thumb still playing with her clit, when she came. Hard.
For a split second, her heavy breathing halted as her eyes squeezed shut tight, her inner muscles contracting against his fingers.
“Fuck,” she moaned, as he started moving his fingers again, determined to draw out her orgasm. Watching Darcy come was about to become his favorite pastime. There was no way he’d be able to resist driving her to climax again and again and again.
She started to come down, slowly, her body shaking slightly. Ryder wanted more. He wanted a hell of a lot more. He curled his fingers, searching.
Darcy’s hands flew up, as did her upper body, stiffening when he found her G-spot.
“Ryder!” she yelled, just before she fell over the edge again, coming once more. She dropped back to the bed when it started to wane, whimpering slightly when he pulled his fingers out.
“Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “Only in the best possible way. I thought I was going to die.”
He grinned, moving upwards so that he could kiss her. He’d never kissed a woman this much in bed. Typically the kisses were a prelude, something he’d spend a few minutes doing before moving on to the main act.
With Darcy, kissing was different. Less foreplay and more necessity. He craved the act, needed the emotional closeness he felt with his lips pressed to hers, the heat of her brea
th against his face, the sweet smile she gave him every time they parted, and the way her eyes looked at him as if he was the most important man in her life.
It was heady. Addictive. And maybe tomorrow, when lust wasn’t coursing through his brain, clogging up the works and rendering him stupid, he might worry about all of that.
Right now, he needed her kisses more than air.
Darcy’s hands stroked his shoulders, his bare back, and he realized she was suffering from the need to touch him as well.
“Inside me,” she whispered after several minutes. “Please. I need you so bad.”
Ryder sluggishly pushed himself up until he was standing by the bed. He felt drunk, trashed, wasted, and he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol.
Shoving his jeans and boxers down, he kicked them and his socks off as Darcy shifted to her side, propped herself up on her elbow, her gaze missing nothing. She studied his cock intently, not with fear or intimidation, but genuine interest and appreciation.
“Darcy,” he started. Once he got back in the bed, he wasn’t sure he trusted himself to stop. His desire for her was off the charts.
She shook her head. “I’m not scared, and I don’t want to stop.”
He wondered if she could read minds. Then it occurred to him that perhaps she wasn’t the only one wearing her heart on her sleeve, speaking volumes with her eyes. He’d never been with a woman who could read him so well, who could understand his feelings, his fears, without him having to say a single word.
She lay back down and lifted her arms in invitation. Ryder lowered himself to the bed, on top of her. Her legs were parted, cradling his hips between them. His cock lay nestled in the warmth of her slit, her arousal coating his hard flesh. She’d been tight around just two of his fingers. His cock was thicker.
“You said you have toys,” Ryder said, suddenly worried about genuinely hurting her. He’d never slept with a virgin.
She nodded. “I’m sure there’s nothing there,” she paused, blushing, “to break. But…” Her eyes lowered, and for the first time since she’d invited him to her room, he sensed she was truly embarrassed.
“But what?”
“Well, my toys aren’t as big as…” She glanced up and made the cutest little face, her eyes wide as she gave him a crooked grin.
Ryder couldn’t help it. He laughed. “God, Darcy. You’re…” He struggled for a word, nothing seeming right. Finally, he landed on, “Perfect.”
He kissed her again. Because how could he not?
Darcy slowly started tilting her hips, rubbing herself on his cock until Ryder feared he’d come before he ever made it inside.
“I’m afraid this won’t last long,” he admitted.
She caressed his cheek. “For me, either. Besides…I’m hoping we’re going to do this more than just once tonight. Twenty times, I think you said.”
He kissed her throat, his lips sliding up to her ear. “Let’s wait until after to decide that. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Ryder lifted his hips, reaching down to direct his dick toward her opening. He pressed in slowly, stopping when just the head was inside.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered, and too many powerful, positive emotions swamped him as he suddenly realized he and Darcy had been hurtling headfirst toward this moment for years.
He pushed deeper, not stopping until he was fully lodged. He paused, not so much for her but for him.
Jesus. Christ. She was tight. Very tight. And hot. And wet.
And he was suddenly missing the blood that should have been pumping through his brain because if there was a drop there, he might have found a way to distract himself, to make this last longer than a second or three.
“Fuck,” he muttered when Darcy tilted her hips, driving him the tiniest bit deeper. Even that slight motion was more than he could handle.
“Don’t move,” he said, sucking in as much air as he could. “Just give me a second to…”
“Look at me, Ryder,” Darcy said. “Do it. Hard. Fast. I promise I’ll be right there with you. And then we’re going to do it again. And again.”
He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. She’d set him free.
Ryder withdrew, gritting his teeth so hard, he feared he’d crack them. He reached for her clit, stroked it, the touch provoking the response he knew would ring the death knell for him.
She jerked upwards and, after that, it was a fifty-yard dash to the finish line. Ryder thrust hard and fast, over and over, as Darcy met him blow for blow.
His intention had been finesse, gentleness, care.
Instead, he was fucking her like it was his last night on Earth, taking her with a need so powerful, it made him dizzy.
Darcy cried out his name, scratched his back and, less than a minute later, she came, pulsing tightly around his dick as his climax crashed down on him.
He called out her name repeatedly as he spilled every single of drop of come deep inside her body. Darcy trembled as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly, his chest to her breasts.
As his wits began to return, he realized he was probably crushing her beneath his weight, but Darcy didn’t complain or even loosen her grip, determined to keep him on her, close to her.
Finally, he managed to find the strength to shove himself to the side. Darcy twisted with him so that when he landed on his back, she was there, curling into his embrace like a sleepy kitten.
He placed several kisses to the top of her head, whispering her name, telling her she was amazing, beautiful, perfect. Everything.
She was everything to him.
Ryder didn’t know how much she’d heard before her breathing had steadied, the slow, gentle inhalations and exhalations telling him she’d fallen asleep.
He was physically exhausted, but emotionally, it was as if he’d taken a hit of speed. His previously sluggish brain was suddenly alert and focused and aware of just one thing.
They were only one date in, and he was already in way too deep. With that thought, his throat began to close, his chest tightening, as wave after wave of panic washed through him. He couldn’t do this again. Couldn’t go through it all again.
Memories of the past four years crashed over him—the betrayal, the pain, the loneliness.
Losing Denise had taken him down hard.
Losing Darcy?
Fuck.
That would finish him off for good.
Chapter Ten
Darcy stared at her computer screen and realized she hadn’t done a single thing to the flyer she was working on in the past twenty minutes. Her thoughts were consumed with Ryder.
She’d fallen asleep in his arms Saturday night after losing her virginity. She was pretty sure that in the history of “deflowerings,” hers had been the best ever. Ryder had been so incredibly sweet and careful and sexy.
She’d replayed it at least a million times since then, and it had only been thirty-six hours.
She had hoped to expand on the experience, but Ryder had been up and dressed early Sunday morning when she woke. He’d been waiting for her, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her sleep. Everything about it had felt so romantic.
She’d tried to convince him to take his clothes off and come back to bed, but he’d said he wanted to be home before Clint woke up and realized he hadn’t been home all night. She understood and respected that, even though she was disappointed. They’d only had sex once and that hadn’t been anywhere near enough for her.
Not just because it had been amazing, as in top-three-orgasms-of-her-life amazing, but because it had only whetted her appetite for more.
It had been on the tip of her tongue to invite him and Clint to watch football with her and her cousins yesterday, but before she could say anything, Ryder had mentioned having a lot of chores to do. He’d kissed her—not as passionately as he had the night before, but still pretty damn decently—and then said he’d see her at work on Monday.
She had texted him a couple times yesterday, but his responses—
though perfectly fine—had taken a long time coming. When it became somewhat obvious he either didn’t have time to text or didn’t want to—she prayed it wasn’t the latter—she had stopped, deciding she’d let him take the lead on communicating with her.
He hadn’t initiated anything after that. No texts and no calls from him.
Darcy was fighting like hell not to read too much into that, desperate not to become one of those women who fell apart if a guy wasn’t talking to her every second of the day, but there’d been something—something she couldn’t put her finger on—in Ryder’s face Sunday morning that was bothering her.
So here she was at work…at noon on Monday…and she still hadn’t seen Ryder. The door to his office had been closed all morning, which was unusual. He rarely worked with it closed, unless he was in a meeting.
She sighed and decided fuck it, hitting the save button on her project, not that she’d done much to save. She really did have a substantial to-do list for work, but until she saw Ryder, until she could push aside this uneasiness that maybe things hadn’t been as great for him, she’d never accomplish a damn thing.
Darcy was about to go knock on his door, certain she was simply letting her imagination run away from her, when the phone on her desk rang. Ryder’s name popped up, and she breathed a sigh of relief, silently chastising herself for acting like a silly teenage girl.
“See. You’re an idiot,” she muttered to herself before answering the phone.
“Hello, Ryder,” she said.
“Can you come to my office, Darcy?”
“Sure. Of course.”
“Thanks.”
His tone sounded fine, but that nagging unease in the back of her brain was rattling again.
She stood up, trying to press the wrinkles in her skirt away with her hand. Then she walked to his office. The door was still closed, so she knocked.
“Come in.”
She opened the door and entered, pausing just over the threshold.
“Close it,” Ryder said. “And lock it.”
She did as he said, fighting not to smile. The last time he’d told her to lock the door, he’d bent her over his desk and rattled off the sexiest list of things he wanted to do to her that she’d ever heard.