Page 6 of Ruger (Riders of Retribution #2)

Marigold

When Ruger places me in the middle of his bed with a surprising amount of care, I’m still reeling from the orgasm I just had. While I’ve never had sex, I’m not completely ignorant. I’ve read books, and I went to public high school. I was bound to pick up something.

I just never knew it could be like that .

Alone in my room, I used to explore my body.

I made myself feel good, but I guess I hadn’t given myself an orgasm.

Truthfully, I’m glad I didn’t. I’m glad that Ruger is the first person to ever make me feel like that.

He’s the first person to make me feel so many things – it only feels right that he’s my introduction to that kind of intense pleasure.

“I’m going to take your dress off,” he tells me, and I’m snapped back into reality.

His hands surprise me with their gentleness once again.

His palms slide along my rib cage, and it’s obvious to me that they’re normally used for manual labor.

I shiver at the sensation of callouses from long days of hard work against my sensitive skin.

He lingers for a moment, either preparing me for what he’s about to do or savoring the moment.

I gasp when he tosses the garment aside in a split-second decision to pull my dress over my head and throw it onto the floor. Then, after giving me a quick once over, his hands are behind my back, unclasping my bra and sending it to join my dress, wherever that landed.

Once I’m completely naked, Ruger stands back and admires my body. Part of me wants to cover up and hide away, but I resist the urge. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, not when I’m with Ruger. This is the first time I’ve seen him in years, but I trust him.

And I want him. All of him. So badly.

After a few seconds, I’m rewarded for my patience and willingness to let him look. Maintaining eye contact as he does it, Ruger pulls his soft, slightly-wet t-shirt from his body. Almost immediately, my eyes dart down to his strong, chiseled form.

He’s not a body builder by any means, but I think I prefer the way his body looks.

There’s definition in his arms, but his abs are hidden under a layer of skin.

This is a man who feeds himself and builds all of his muscle from practical tasks.

That body is functional , and I feel a rush of wetness between my legs at the thought.

I’m not given much longer to admire his chest and biceps because he reaches for his belt buckle. Holding my breath, I brace myself for the main event. I know that he has to be big – I felt his hardness pressing against me as he carried me in here.

It’s just that this will be the first time I’ve ever seen a man fully naked in person. And I like this man more than I’ve liked any man. Ever.

I’m not left wondering what he’ll look like for long. With a kind of ease that I think shouldn’t turn me on so much, he opens the front of his jeans before dropping them along with his boxers. His member, long and hard and thick, springs out and hangs heavy between his legs.

Even as my logical mind worries that he won’t fit, my body screams for him. There’s an ache between my legs and even more wetness. It’s like my pussy is saying, “ We’ll make him fit! We want that inside of us! Right now! ”

“You look a little starstruck,” he says as he kneels between my legs and rubs a soothing hand along the length of my thigh. “Everything okay in that pretty little head of yours?”

I nod, feeling myself relax at his touch. Then, I sigh, “It’s just… you’re big. I think.”

“You think?” he chuckles, leaning in to kiss me sweetly. When he pulls away, he says, “I guess it is your first time, huh?”

I blush bright red, glancing away from him as the embarrassment of my inexperience washes over me. I’m aware that it’s not a problem for him, but I’m worried that I won’t be adequate. It’s a stupid concern, I know. But I want to be perfect for him.

“Hey, now,” he says, cupping my cheek and rubbing it gently with his thumb. “Don’t hide from me, Marigold.”

When I meet his gaze again, there’s something tender there, something that I don’t think he shares with anyone else. It puts me at ease, and the embarrassment fades, quickly replaced with lust.

“That’s it,” he praises, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “That’s my good girl.”

His praise sends sharp, electric tendrils of pleasure through my body. A needy whine escapes my throat without my permission. Somehow, this man makes me lose all control. I think I love it.

After pressing a kiss to my opposite cheek, he connects our lips. As he’s kissing me, one of his hands roams my body. At first, he sticks to my sides, but he quickly moves to my breast.

I’m so distracted by the way he’s licking into my mouth, sucking and nipping at my bottom lip, that I don’t notice his fingertips closing around my nipple.

However, when he squeezes, I cry out, pressing up into his touch.

I feel him smirking against my mouth as he continues to give my nipple attention.

Almost instinctively, my legs open up. I don’t know why, but it’s like the nubs on my breasts are connected directly to my pussy. As he keeps squeezing my nipple and kissing me breathless, my hips cant up against him.

“What is it, baby?” Ruger asks, the pet name adding to the intense pleasure I’m already feeling. “You want more?”

“Please,” I moan, throwing my head back against the pillows.

He takes advantage of the open length of my throat, attaching his lips there. I grab onto his back, unable to stop my whines and whimpers from escaping my mouth. As he’s continuing to leave wet kisses on my sensitive skin, his hand leaves my breast.

I want to protest, but I don’t get the time.

He leans back, watching me with lust-blown eyes.

Slowly, his hips move forward, and I feel the tip of his length sliding through my folds, collecting my juices.

Then, without looking away from me, he presses inside slowly, gritting his teeth as a low sound escapes him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, his hips moving shallowly. It’s obvious that he’s trying to give me time to adjust to the intrusion, but he’s at his limits. “You feel so good around my cock.”

“More,” I say, even though I can barely catch my breath. “Ruger, more.”

That’s all I need to say for him to start thrusting into me. The little air that I managed to get into my lungs is promptly pushed out, and the only thing I’m able to do is hold onto him. But it’s good, it feels so good.

My toes curl at the way his thick length stretches me. There’s a slight dull ache, but it fades with each push of his hips. The pleasure that starts to sink its claws into my being is addicting. I don’t ever want it to stop.

Ruger captures my lips again, but this time the kiss is ridiculously messy. His movements are imprecise, and I’m sure mine are too. All of our focus is on where we’re connected in the most intimate way.

Somewhere in the pit of my abdomen, I feel my second ever orgasm starting to build.

This one is different from the one he gave me with his mouth just a short while ago.

When he was eating me out, the pleasure came on fast and hard, seemingly out of nowhere.

Now, there’s a slow buildup that wasn’t there before.

I break our kiss and throw my head out, gasping for air and squeezing my eyes shut. Ruger moves his mouth back to my neck, leaving sloppy kisses. Then, when he gets to the junction between my throat and my shoulder, he bites down.

“Ruger!” I exclaim as I’m pushed even closer to my climax.

Everything is bubbling right beneath the surface. I’m close, I can tell I am. And, I think that Ruger can tell, too. His thrusts get even harder, and his teeth graze against my skin.

Whines and whimpers escape my lips, and there’s nothing that I can do to stop it. He coaxes them out of me, playing me like I’m some sort of instrument. Or maybe this is how he works his bike, making it do exactly what he wants it to do.

One of my hands slides up into his hair, my nails scratching against his scalp. He grunts, leaning into the contact and slightly changing the angle of his hips. With his new scope of allowing him to hit a particular spot inside me, my climax slams into me.

I scream his name, and a few obscenities, though I couldn’t say which ones. My head is in a cloud of lust, and the only thought that’s running through my head is “Ruger, Ruger, Ruger.” I want to feel like this always. I think I’m addicted to this.

As the overwhelming pleasure I’m feeling reaches its crest, Ruger grunts then growls above me. He fills me up even fuller, emptying his load deep inside me. It only draws out my own pleasure, and I’m left feeling boneless.

Our orgasms subside, and all I want is for him to pull me close and hold me while we sleep.

That’s not what happens, though. Instead, he pulls out when he catches his breath, kisses me on my forehead, and leaves the room.

Before I can comprehend what just happened, he returns with a washcloth in his hand and a look of determination on his face.

“I think you should stay in my room while you’re here,” he says as he starts to wipe between my legs, cleaning away the evidence of our coupling.

Is it weird that I miss it when it’s gone?

“I’d like that,” I murmur, suppressing a yawn as he finishes cleaning me off.

“Good,” he replies, tossing the rag to the side before crawling into bed and giving me what I want.

It’s a little early to be going to sleep, but I can’t find it in me to care. I’m warm, sleepy, and satisfied from my climax, and being held by a man I’m quickly falling for. I don’t think life could get any better.