Page 46 of Rolling 75 (The Noire Brothers #1)
Realization dawns on me. I ran from the only refuge I’d ever known, when this euphoric haven could have been mine and his all along.
“No,” he roars as his fingers circle my throbbing clit with a hypnotic cadence and his chest shudders against my back and his heartbeat syncs to mine to become the rhythm of him vigorously filling me.
“We’re fucking it out right now, baby. Give me your pent-up lust, even your fury.
Your will to bust out of this goddamn prison.
We’ll drown the regrets that got us here later. ”
I’ll never understand how he reads me that well.
We can have entire conversations without a single spoken word.
Our bodies seem to be doing the same. That’s what renders this encounter so profound.
It’s the first time he’s inside me, and yet he’s been there all along.
Owning me in every other way, all of me now.
His piercing drives home that point, the barbells dragging over my G-spot and inner walls with an intoxicating ecstasy. One that nearly has me squirming from its intensity. I’m torn between a push-pull craving—the vanquishing pleasure that is too much and yet a sting I can no longer live without.
Purring around the panty gag to assure him I’m lost in every sultry brush of him, I stick out my ass with a silent harder .
“That’s my girl. So greedy.” He slams into me with all the fervor I wordlessly requested.
His hand snakes up to my throat, splaying across the diamond-studded neckline of my dress, fingers curling around the sides with light pressure on my battering pulse point, while his other hand continues to cavort over my clit, the tempo escalating to match his thrusts.
I’m heady and boneless, flooded with sensations that are amplified by the gag and the blindfold and his feral possessiveness. It ignites an ember low in my belly, sparks flying behind my lids, heat searing my flesh, muscles aching with the burn.
“I wish you could see this, how beautifully your perfect pussy swallows all of me. It’s a dream, baby. Made for me.” His voice is flint and steel, stoking the cinders of the budding inferno as he rams inside me.
“You feel my goddamn ring on your finger?”
Thrust.
“That magic cross on my cock, branding the depths of your cunt?”
Harder.
“That’s me, owning every part of you.”
Pound.
“We’re not friends, Mercy.”
I love those words.
The throb in my core builds. My knees weaken. Lungs empty.
And the prison walls go up in a blaze. A halo of fire encircles us, and Ryker never wanes.
“That’s it, Viper. Take it. Take what’s yours.”
Mine.
His pumps become more ragged, his hold more emphatic, his heartbeat more turbulent. “I want us to come together, Merce. I waited this long for you. Take me with you.”
What the hell is he doing to me?
A blustery gale of euphoria sweeps over me, burrowing into my veins and muscles, flesh and bones. Etching into my every cell, from my curled toes to my woozy head.
The squall of rapture devours everything—our past and pain and squandered beginnings—decimating the torment to a pile of ashes while we delight in the flames.
And like a raging forest fire, he swallows me whole. Until I surrender, becoming the blaze and writhing with him.
My fists tighten around the bars, my champagne ring searing my flesh, just as he suggested, sweat glazing my palms. A guttural groan bleeds through the gag, the taste of my arousal only sharpening it—a reminder of exactly what this man does to me, how he knows my thoughts and my heart.
My struggles and fears. My fantasies and the path to my undoing.
My orgasm surges through me without end, an electric frisson that goes on and on with a feverish tenacity, ensnaring every part of me until all I am is the feeling I’m chasing.
And the girl in his arms.
On a final jagged thrust, Ryker erupts, spilling inside me with a fierceness and a throaty, “Fuuuuck,” that sums it all up, his arms tightening around me and his craggy breaths showering me with tingles.
We stay suspended like that for a minute or two, his long limbs cocooning me, his pulsating cock still snug within, both of us trembling. When he pulls out, the loss is immediately devastating. He lowers my dress, dislodges the panties from my mouth, and unties the blindfold.
My inner thighs are already sticky from his leaking cum. As if he senses that, he leans back into me, slides his hand to my entrance, and forces the trickling remnants back inside.
“You gonna wear your wet panties or go out there with my cum dripping down your legs?”
I flash him a coquettish grin as he finishes fingering me. “I’m going with the panties. You can put your dominant head to rest. They’ll be an apt reminder of how you—what was it?—split me in two.”
“That’ll do.” He chuckles and moves to restore himself—zipper and tie first.
After I shimmy into my saliva-soaked thong, I pluck his jacket off the wall camera, knowing we need to get back out there but also wanting to reassure him. “I’m on birth control.”
He knots his tie, smoothing out the kink in it as his sparkling blues gleam at me. “I know.”
That provokes a huff from me. “Why do you know?”
His dimple makes a valiant effort to distract me with charm. “This would have been less fun if I hadn’t.”
“Ryker …” It’s a warning, though a weak one.
I know this is who he is. It’s who he’s always been. And I understand more than ever that when he snuffed out those tendencies to appease me, things went haywire. So, my argument dies in my throat.
He steps into me, his steadfast resolve mantling his features as he cups my cheeks and rests his forehead against mine. “One thousand twenty-one.”
That would sound like nonsense, except I know that number, so I nod. “Days.”
A sharp intake of air precedes his response.
He didn’t expect me to know. “Yeah. The number of days you were gone. The number of days I swore that if I found you, I’d never spend another one away from you.
The number of days I promised myself that when I did, I’d be involved in every detail because they all matter. ”
Those were the little pieces of his horrific storm—the separation, the pain, the thunder stolen .
His wisdom from earlier returns. “Regrets are forever.”