Page 7

N aomi

He kissed me.

Not the kind of peck on the cheek or on the lips I’d seen in moving pictures, or even the type that was commonly exchanged between acquaintances from cheek to cheek.

A real kiss. The kind I imagined was shared only between lovers.

The moment his lips met mine, my legs went weak and I slumped a bit in his arms. His grip on my waist tightened, holding me up as I experienced the first real kiss of my life.

I didn’t expect it to feel like this.

Honestly, I hadn’t even expected to like it.

Mechanically, I knew how kisses were supposed to work.

People pressed their lips together in an intimate embrace, one meant to showcase their affection for one another in a very physical way.

I imagined sex was similar, only that seemed so much more shameful than anything pleasurable.

Having no personal experience with it, I couldn’t understand the allure.

Nothing I had read or been taught had mentioned anything about the feelings, sensations, and emotions that came with it.

Heat rolled through me, surging up and down my spine and settling deep in my belly. An intoxicating sense of euphoria came over me as his other hand wound around the back of my neck. I gasped into his mouth, and he groaned with delight at the sound.

At first, the kiss was soft and sweet, causing my heart to flutter with excitement. He explored my lips with his, as his hands caressed my body over my shirt. The sudden urge to feel his touch on my bare skin hurtled through me, but I did my best to swallow it down.

Slowly, his fingers wound through the hair at the base of my scalp. They tightened gradually, more and more, until it started to ache.

His lips were softer than I imagined they would be.

The kiss turned more persistent. A bit harder. More possessive.

My core twisted with anticipation. The hand at the back of my head turned into a fist. A blossoming fiery ache flared across my scalp, and I whimpered, but he swallowed my cries with an aroused groan.

For some reason, that made the heat burn inside me that much hotter.

It was at that moment that I realized I was kissing him back. His grip was no longer holding me captive. In fact, it wasn’t holding me close enough. Without thinking, I wound my arms around his neck, and he practically growled his enthusiasm.

His teeth nipped at my bottom lip, biting it gently and sucking it into his mouth. For the first time, I moaned out loud.

I’d never made a sound like that before.

His kiss deepened and his tongue snaked in between my lips. It danced with mine, fervently, greedily. His hand on my back pulled me closer and I whimpered once more. Everything about him exuded dominant confidence and every part of me seemed to want to submit to its call.

I wanted more.

I had the distinct feeling that he knew that.

My fingers gripped the muscles of his shoulders, feeling the chiseled surface beneath the barrier of fabric that lay between us. I pressed my chest up against his, pulling as close as I could.

It was then that I noticed the hard ridge of his erection against my belly. I sucked in an anxious breath. I’d been taught about the human body, had even seen a penis before, but I’d never felt one before. Not like this.

His hand slipped beneath the hem of my shirt, just brushing against the skin of my back for the first time. My breath escaped me as a shaky whimper and that just made him kiss me all the harder.

“The thing is, I want more than just a taste,” he growled.

“Please,” I begged, not really knowing what I was begging for.

As he slowly and steadily drew his hands up my back, his touch leaving a trail of heat, he was simultaneously lifting my shirt.

His fingertips elicited fiery tingles all over me, which seemed to eventually settle in my pulsing clit.

My legs shook a little bit, and I pressed my thighs together in desperation.

The muscles of my vagina clenched and I came to the shameful realization that I was wet.

I was aroused. Scientifically, I understood what that meant. Experiencing it, however, was something else entirely.

His lips caressed my cheek as he pulled my shirt higher. Only when it reached my shoulders did I realize what was happening: he was undressing me. My heart was pounding at the thought of being exposed to him.

He hadn’t asked.

I didn’t resist.

He pulled my shirt over my head and down my arms, taking it completely off me and tossing it away.

The air conditioning was chilly on my bare stomach.

My first instinct was to cover myself, but he wouldn’t allow it, quickly pulling my arms around his neck and capturing me in a second, much rougher kiss.

Fire ignited between us. I could think of nothing but his hands on my skin, his kiss on my lips. His fingertips now flittered along the top of my slacks, dancing over my flesh like he was playing a violin for an audience that only included me.

His fingers deftly unhooked my bra before I even realized what he was doing.

My nipples, already pebbled and tingling, instantly tightened even more as he began to slowly pull my bra away from my breasts.

One strap slipped off my shoulder and hung down my arm.

I cried out, more in surprise than anything else.

He was baring my breasts.

I reached up, desperately trying to put my lingerie back into place.

He grabbed my wrists in one smooth motion, backing me up and roughly trapping me against the wall.

My bra hung off my shoulders now, the cups only partially covering my breasts.

It almost felt even more indecent than being completely naked.

Taking both my wrists in his left hand, he held my arms down.

I tried to tug free of his iron grasp, but I was completely powerless against his vastly greater strength.

He lowered his right hand to the center of my chest, taking hold of my bra, but he didn’t do anything with it. At least, not yet.

His gaze met mine and he stared directly into my eyes for a long moment.

Heat spiraled through my body at what I saw contained within them.

Danger. Temptation. The promise of something new and unimaginably exciting, the revelation of something completely unknown to me, that would result in pure and utter satisfaction.

I swallowed and bit my lip, unable to break his gaze.

“Don’t you dare try to hide your body from me again,” he growled, his brows lowered, his expression serious, but with what looked like an affectionate glint in his eyes. The heavy rumble of his voice vibrated through me, settling deep in my core, and making my clitoris pulse with unfamiliar need.

I lifted my chin, fighting with my desire to submit and the impulse to defy him, just so I could discover what would happen if I did. The dark playfulness in his eyes intensified and my tentative rebelliousness grew bolder.

I tried to jerk my wrists from his grasp again, but his grip was too strong.

“Naughty girl,” he whispered, and my heart leapt into my throat. What did he mean by that? Where was this unexpected encounter headed?

My mind flashed back to the photographs in the wedding album. In my mind’s eye I could see the bride over the groom’s lap, his hand suspended in the air above her naked bottom, a look of lustful desire on his face. Would he ever punish me like that?

I worried the inside of my cheek with my teeth as he tightened his hold on my bra. Without another word, he tore my bra from my body.

The flimsy lace audibly ripped apart as though made of paper. I gasped in shock, staring at the purple fabric as he tossed it aside.

“I liked that,” I breathed in disbelief.

“I’ll buy you another one,” he replied, like it was the simplest thing in the world. I opened my mouth, intending to say something sharp-tongued and quick-witted, but it was as if my brain had short circuited and stopped working entirely.

“Would two suffice?” he asked, lifting an amused eyebrow as his gaze searched mine.

“Yes,” I croaked.

“Then consider it done,” he hummed.

With the cool air now caressing my exposed flesh, my nipples hardened painfully. Goosebumps popped up all over me and I shivered, not from the chill but from sexual arousal. Ryker stared at my naked breasts then lifted my arms above my head, pinning them there.

With his free hand, he traced a finger from the pulse of my throat down the curve of my breast. His touch was like fire and suddenly the whole room seemed to turn into a scorching furnace. Even the air I pulled into my lungs felt like it was sizzling hot.

When he finally brushed his fingertip against my nipple, I stopped breathing entirely.

A strangled moan escaped me, and I squeezed my eyes shut when he took just the tip of that nipple between his thumb and forefinger and rolled it ever so slightly.

I clamped my traitorous lips closed, not wanting to give away just how much I was enjoying the feeling of his rough touch on my bare skin.

When I opened my eyes, he was staring right at me, then he very deliberately dropped his gaze to his fingers on my nipple.

He made me watch him looking at me, touching me.

He released my nipple, and his fingers resumed their journey, slowly making their way down my ribcage, seeming to count each one, lower still until they brushed against the waistband of my slacks. I shuddered with need, my breasts quivering, my legs shaking, my breaths as rapid as my heartbeat.

With practiced ease, he popped open the button of my slacks. Gradually, he lowered my zipper. I trembled, expecting his knuckles to graze against my panty-covered mound, but they didn’t. He was being intentionally slow and careful.

“Keep your arms above your head,” he commanded. There was something beneath his tone that made my stomach flip with anxious arousal, like there was a threat hidden in his words that he had not yet unveiled.