Page 11 of Ripe & Ready (Friction Fiction #1)

“You like that?” Derek asks, voice low and rough, practically a growl.

A nod is all I can manage. My brain is mush, my mouth useless. The way the banana’s moving inside me has stolen my entire ability to form a sentence. Words? Don’t know them. Never met her.

“Good boy,” he says, and my entire body shudders like someone flipped a switch.

Not a little tremble either. No, it’s a full-body, limb-tingling, soul-leaving-my-body kind of quake. I let out a noise I’m pretty sure only dolphins can hear. If this is what being praised feels like, someone better give me a sticker chart and a gold star system, stat.

I’m so lost in the feeling I barely register the shift. Derek pulls the toy from me and replaces it with his cock in one quick, practiced motion. I’m already open, gaping, and he pushes in to the hilt with a single thrust that knocks the air from my lungs.

There’s no pause. No slow reentry.

His grip tightens around my thighs, keeping them locked over his shoulders. He holds me there like he needs the contact, like if he lets go, something might unravel.

I cling to the carpet, nails dragging against the fibers, as he fucks into me with a rhythm that’s relentless and borderline feral. I know he’s been counting the days like I have and we’re both trying to make up for all the time we’ve lost.

I gasp as his hips roll hitting that spot that makes pleasure bloom through every part of me. My vision goes white, and my head thuds softly against the floor. I focus on chasing the next wave. I start moving with him, thrust for thrust, desperate for more.

He kisses me. It’s hard and unforgiving.

His rhythm is brutal. My lungs stutter, emptying with every sharp thrust. My toes curl as the sound of our bodies echo through the room. The wet clap of sweat-slicked skin on skin. He slides almost all the way out, then slams back in, again and again, until I’m trembling. Whimpering.

“Oh my god,” I manage, breathless. “Are you trying to rearrange my organs?”

“Little bit,” Derek pants, not breaking his stride.

“This is… this is unholy,” I groan. “My ancestors are watching. My spine is filing for workers’ comp.”

“Tell your ancestors you’re busy,” he mutters, grinning down at me, sweat dripping from his jaw. “And your spine can take it. You’re doing great.”

“Not sure if I’m being ruined or blessed,” I say, voice cracking on a moan.

He leans in, kisses me again, and whispers, “Both.”

And when he thrusts again I realize he’s right. I’m being completely ruined. And loving every second of it.

“Derek,” I breathe, again and again, the syllables tumbling out like prayer, like surrender. My nails scrape down his back, desperate to hold on to something as the pressure builds inside me like a rising tide.

His name is the only thing anchoring me, and he gives it back with every thrust, groaning against my neck, panting into my skin. His grip tightens at my hips, his rhythm faltering, pace going erratic.

He’s close. I can feel it.

“Andy,” he gasps, and it’s not just a name, it’s the months we’ve been apart in a single breath.

My body seizes around him, white heat splintering through me as I come hard, stars behind my eyelids, mouth open in a cry I barely recognize.

He follows a heartbeat later, thrusting deep once more before he breaks apart, clutching me tight like I might slip away.

He doesn’t stop until I’m stuffed and messy, warmth slipping free with every shift.

He leans against me for a minute, both of us breathless and boneless, trying to remember how lungs work. When he finally pulls out, part of his load goes with him, trailing down my ass and hitting the floor with a quiet splatter.

He chuckles into the crook of my neck, body still trembling with the aftermath. “Best Christmas ever.”

“At least top five,” I say it, smiling up at him as my fingers trail lazily up and down his back, slick with sweat. “Right after the time you got me a custom gorilla jigsaw puzzle and a bottle of wine so bad we used it to clean paintbrushes.”

We stay there like that for a while, tangled and warm, the chaos of wrapping paper and blinking tree lights around us, the world quiet and content.

I close my eyes and inhale, the moment settling into me. The artificial banana scent still lingering on my skin hits me like a freight train, dragging me straight back to the Congo. Might be the wildest case of scent-triggered memories ever recorded.

Derek’s lips brushing soft kisses along my shoulder reel me back in. That remind me I’m here, safe, warm, wrecked in the best possible way

“I’m glad you came with me,” he whispers.

I don’t know if he means the trip, or right now, here on the floor, but either way, I don’t even have to think about it. The words barrel out of me before I can stop them.

“I’d follow you anywhere.”

I mean it. No hesitation. No fear.

Because when he’s the one by my side, even the wildest shit doesn’t feel scary at all.

Thank you so much for reading!