Page 25
I extend my hand, replacing his with mine. The feel of him is electrifying—hot, smooth skin over steel hardness. He throbs in my palm as I stroke him slowly, watching his reaction. His eyes close, head tilting back slightly, a soft groan escaping his throat.
The power of it—knowing I can affect this strong, controlled man so deeply—is intoxicating.
"Sit on the couch," I direct, surprising myself with my assertiveness.
Riley complies immediately, moving to sit in the center of the sofa. I rise from my position, feeling deliciously exposed as I stand naked before him. His eyes roam my body with lust, lingering on my breasts, my hips, the juncture of my thighs.
I straddle him, knees on either side of his powerful thighs, positioning myself above him. I'm so wet from his earlier attention that when I sink down, he slides in with surprising ease despite his size. Still, the stretch is intense—a delicious burn that has me gasping as I take him inch by inch.
"Fuck, Lucy," he breathes, his hands gripping my hips.
When I'm fully seated, I have to pause, adjusting to the feeling of being so completely filled. Riley waits patiently, though I can feelthe tension in his body, the restraint it takes for him to let me set the pace.
I lean forward, placing my hands on his broad shoulders for balance, and begin to move. Slowly at first, lifting up and sinking back down, learning the rhythm that feels best. Riley places one strong hand on my lower back, the other cupping my ass, supporting me without controlling my movements.
As I pick up speed, my breasts bounce with each motion, drawing Riley's attention. He leans forward, trying to capture one nipple with his mouth. I adjust my position to help him, crying out when his warm mouth closes around my stiff peak.
"That feels amazing," I gasp, my hips moving faster now, driven by increasing need.
Every second since meeting Riley has been unexpected, unprecedented. From the moment my car broke down, to him helping me find the cottage key, to weathering the storm together—each interaction has built upon the last, creating something I can't quite name but know is significant.
This isn't just physical attraction, though there's certainly plenty of that. It's something deeper—a connection I didn't expect to find in this small town, with this guarded man who's shown me more kindness in two days than most people have in years.
And I know, even as pleasure builds within me again, that this can't be a one-time thing. I won't let it be.
Suddenly, Riley's hands move to my thighs, stopping my motion. I look down, questioning, and see something primal in his eyes—a hunger barely leashed.
"Let me," he says, his voice strained.
Before I can respond, he begins thrusting upward, his powerful hips driving into me with no mercy. His arms bulge with effort,veins standing out against tanned skin, hands gripping my thighs hard enough to leave marks.
I'm completely at his mercy, and it's glorious. I've been with men before, but never someone like Riley—never someone who combines such raw strength with careful attention to my pleasure. Each thrust hits perfectly, driving me rapidly toward another climax.
"Riley," I gasp, barely recognizing my own voice. "That's—oh god—"
I'm incoherent now, sensation overwhelming thought. I feel dampness on my chin and realize I'm actually drooling, past caring about anything but the building pressure inside me. My head falls back, eyes half-lidded, staring unseeing at the dark ceiling as waves of pleasure crash through me.
Just as I'm about to shatter, Riley pulls me close against his chest, changing the angle. His thrusts slow but deepen, each one deliberate and devastating. The new position has his pubic bone pressing against my clit with each movement, and that's all it takes.
My second orgasm hits even harder than the first, radiating outward from my core to the tips of my fingers and toes. I cry out, burying my face against Riley's neck as my body convulses around him.
He groans, hands and legs trembling, and then I feel it—the hot pulse of his release inside me. His cock throbs over and over, filling me as his arms tighten around my back, holding me to him like he's afraid I might disappear.
For long moments, we stay like this, connected and breathing heavily. I can feel his heart pounding against mine, our sweat mingling where our bodies press together.
Finally, Riley lifts his head from where it's rested against my shoulder. "I should have stopped," he says, his voice rough. "Before I finished inside. I couldn't—"
I place a finger against his lips, stopping his apology. "It's fine," I assure him. "I would have asked you to, anyway."
Riley pulls me closer, cradling me against his chest as our breathing slowly returns to normal. I adjust my position slightly to avoid crushing him, but he doesn't seem to mind my weight. We're sticky with sweat and other fluids, but neither of us makes a move to separate.
His fingers find my hair, gently working through the tangles, the rhythmic motion soothing. I rest my head against his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow beneath my ear.
"I still can't believe your car broke down at the exact town limit," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble I can feel through his chest.
I smile against his skin. "Maybe it was fate."
"I don't usually believe in fate," he says, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger. "But this... us... it's hard to explain otherwise."
The power of it—knowing I can affect this strong, controlled man so deeply—is intoxicating.
"Sit on the couch," I direct, surprising myself with my assertiveness.
Riley complies immediately, moving to sit in the center of the sofa. I rise from my position, feeling deliciously exposed as I stand naked before him. His eyes roam my body with lust, lingering on my breasts, my hips, the juncture of my thighs.
I straddle him, knees on either side of his powerful thighs, positioning myself above him. I'm so wet from his earlier attention that when I sink down, he slides in with surprising ease despite his size. Still, the stretch is intense—a delicious burn that has me gasping as I take him inch by inch.
"Fuck, Lucy," he breathes, his hands gripping my hips.
When I'm fully seated, I have to pause, adjusting to the feeling of being so completely filled. Riley waits patiently, though I can feelthe tension in his body, the restraint it takes for him to let me set the pace.
I lean forward, placing my hands on his broad shoulders for balance, and begin to move. Slowly at first, lifting up and sinking back down, learning the rhythm that feels best. Riley places one strong hand on my lower back, the other cupping my ass, supporting me without controlling my movements.
As I pick up speed, my breasts bounce with each motion, drawing Riley's attention. He leans forward, trying to capture one nipple with his mouth. I adjust my position to help him, crying out when his warm mouth closes around my stiff peak.
"That feels amazing," I gasp, my hips moving faster now, driven by increasing need.
Every second since meeting Riley has been unexpected, unprecedented. From the moment my car broke down, to him helping me find the cottage key, to weathering the storm together—each interaction has built upon the last, creating something I can't quite name but know is significant.
This isn't just physical attraction, though there's certainly plenty of that. It's something deeper—a connection I didn't expect to find in this small town, with this guarded man who's shown me more kindness in two days than most people have in years.
And I know, even as pleasure builds within me again, that this can't be a one-time thing. I won't let it be.
Suddenly, Riley's hands move to my thighs, stopping my motion. I look down, questioning, and see something primal in his eyes—a hunger barely leashed.
"Let me," he says, his voice strained.
Before I can respond, he begins thrusting upward, his powerful hips driving into me with no mercy. His arms bulge with effort,veins standing out against tanned skin, hands gripping my thighs hard enough to leave marks.
I'm completely at his mercy, and it's glorious. I've been with men before, but never someone like Riley—never someone who combines such raw strength with careful attention to my pleasure. Each thrust hits perfectly, driving me rapidly toward another climax.
"Riley," I gasp, barely recognizing my own voice. "That's—oh god—"
I'm incoherent now, sensation overwhelming thought. I feel dampness on my chin and realize I'm actually drooling, past caring about anything but the building pressure inside me. My head falls back, eyes half-lidded, staring unseeing at the dark ceiling as waves of pleasure crash through me.
Just as I'm about to shatter, Riley pulls me close against his chest, changing the angle. His thrusts slow but deepen, each one deliberate and devastating. The new position has his pubic bone pressing against my clit with each movement, and that's all it takes.
My second orgasm hits even harder than the first, radiating outward from my core to the tips of my fingers and toes. I cry out, burying my face against Riley's neck as my body convulses around him.
He groans, hands and legs trembling, and then I feel it—the hot pulse of his release inside me. His cock throbs over and over, filling me as his arms tighten around my back, holding me to him like he's afraid I might disappear.
For long moments, we stay like this, connected and breathing heavily. I can feel his heart pounding against mine, our sweat mingling where our bodies press together.
Finally, Riley lifts his head from where it's rested against my shoulder. "I should have stopped," he says, his voice rough. "Before I finished inside. I couldn't—"
I place a finger against his lips, stopping his apology. "It's fine," I assure him. "I would have asked you to, anyway."
Riley pulls me closer, cradling me against his chest as our breathing slowly returns to normal. I adjust my position slightly to avoid crushing him, but he doesn't seem to mind my weight. We're sticky with sweat and other fluids, but neither of us makes a move to separate.
His fingers find my hair, gently working through the tangles, the rhythmic motion soothing. I rest my head against his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow beneath my ear.
"I still can't believe your car broke down at the exact town limit," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble I can feel through his chest.
I smile against his skin. "Maybe it was fate."
"I don't usually believe in fate," he says, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger. "But this... us... it's hard to explain otherwise."