Page 46 of The Rule Breaker (Colton U Playbook #1)

Ryan moves behind me and plops down on the stool. “Yup. I’m a fast learner. Teach me.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m already moving to sit between his legs, my back pressed to his chest. His hands find mine, guiding my fingers to the spinning clay.

We start shaping the clay, but it’s impossible to focus with him this close, and his breath ghosting against my neck.

“You know,” he murmurs, “this is kind of hot.”

I snort. “We’re elbow-deep in wet clay.”

He hums. “Still hot.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t keep the smile off my face.

We start slow, our palms slick with clay as we guide the shape together.

“We’re basically recreating Ghost.”

I laugh under my breath, tilting my head toward him just slightly. “You wish you were Patrick Swayze.”

He smirks, the curve of his lips grazing the skin beneath my ear. “I dunno, I think I’m doing a pretty good job.”

His eyes flick to my lips. Mine do the same. And before I can process it, his mouth is on mine.

His hands slide from mine to my waist, and just like that, the rest of the world disappears.

The clay spins, forgotten on the wheel. The mess, the studio, every reason why we shouldn’t be together—it all fades.

It’s just him. Just us.

His fingers slip under the hem of my dress, his palms skating over my skin. “You have no idea how long I’ve been thinking of this,” he murmurs, his voice rough, lips still pressed against mine.

I smirk, nipping at his bottom lip. “Oh? And what exactly have you been thinking about?”

His hands tighten on my hips, pulling me closer. “You. Just like this. A little messy. A lot turned on,” he says with a rough grunt. “Been thinking of it ever since I saw those clay covered overalls in your dorm.”

My heart stutters at the admission. That was months ago, before he had ever even kissed me, before we even knew each other that well.

I hum, letting my fingers trail up his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath my touch. “And what else?”

Ryan exhales sharply, his grip flexing. “You really wanna know?”

I nod, biting my lip.

He leans in, his voice breathy and sinful against my ear.

“I’ve thought about having you like this.

Covered in clay, with my hands all over you.

” His fingers slip beneath the hem of my dress, skimming my bare thighs.

“Making you whimper while I touch you. Getting you so worked up you forget how to breathe.”

Heat pools low in my stomach, spreading with every word. “You talk a big game,” I tease.

Ryan chuckles, slow and cocky, his tongue flicking against my bottom lip. “I back it up, too.”

His lips find my throat, kissing, nipping, sucking until I gasp. His hands roam, exploring, learning the curves of my body. Just when I think I might lose it, he pulls back, leaving me breathless.

“You’re playing dirty,” I whisper, my voice shaking with need.

Ryan grins against my skin, his teeth grazing my collarbone. “I can make it so much dirtier, baby.”

I let out a shaky breath as he pushes my dress up inch by inch, until my thighs are bare. His fingers dig in, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin, coaxing my legs apart as he presses closer. I can feel him, hard, hot, thick underneath me.

His hands slide back to my hips. “Hold that thought,” he murmurs.

I blink back at him, dazed, lips swollen from his kisses. “What?—?”

He grins, kissing the corner of my mouth before pulling back.

I make a soft sound of protest, my thighs instinctively squeezing together, but Ryan just chuckles as he takes a step back.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he drawls, heading toward the utility sink at the corner of the studio, turning on the water.

“I’m not stopping. Just not about to fuck my girl with mud all over my hands. ”

When he comes back, he grips my hips and lifts me up, placing me on the worktable.

“What’s my favorite color today, Isabella?” he asks, his eyes flickering down between my legs.

I bite my lip, shaking my head. “I’m not wearing any.”

A groan crawls out of his throat as he pushes my legs apart, and stares down at the evidence. “Fuck,” he grunts, dragging his thumb over my wet, swollen clit, gathering the proof of how much I need him. “You’ve been dying for me, baby. Haven’t you?”

I don’t answer, can’t. Not when his fingers are moving, circling, teasing, making me arch into him.

“Say it,” he demands, tugging my underwear down my legs. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

I exhale shakily. “Ryan…”

He clicks his tongue. “Try again.”

I whimper when he slides a finger inside me, stretching, filling me. My thighs quiver and my hands grip the edge of the worktable so tight my knuckles turn white. “I want you… So bad,” I whisper, desperate for him.

His breath catches, and then his other hand is on my chin, tilting my head back so he can kiss me, his tongue sliding against mine as his fingers keep working me open. He swallows every moan, every gasp, his body pressing harder against mine.

“That’s better,” he murmurs against my lips. “Gotta hear you beg for it.”

I can’t think anymore. I don’t want to. All I want is him—more of him, all of him.

“Lay back,” he orders.

I do just that, my back hitting the cool surface, with my dress bunched around my waist, and my breath coming in shallow pants.

Ryan steps between my legs, his hands running up my thighs, as he spreads me wider, as he takes in the sight of me laid out for him. “Fucking perfect,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

Then he’s undoing his jeans, shoving them down, freeing his cock, thick and flushed, leaking at the tip. The sight of him—so hard, so ready—makes my stomach tighten, heat coiling low in my belly. I bite my lip, my hips lifting slightly.

Ryan groans. “Look at you. You’re fucking dripping.” He fists himself, stroking once, twice, aligning himself.

He pushes inside me slowly, making me feel every thick, pulsing inch of him. I cry out, legs wrapping around his waist.

Ryan curses, his hands gripping my waist so tight I’ll have bruises tomorrow.

“Fuck, you’re tight. I love sinking into you, feeling you take me inside your body, having you clenched around me.

” He pulls back, almost all the way, before slamming back in, making me moan so loud it echoes through the studio.

He thrusts into me deep, slow at first, dragging it out, making me feel every inch, every thrust. His hands roam, squeezing my breasts through my dress, his thumbs circling my nipples, making me whimper. His lips find my throat, my collarbone, kissing, biting, marking.

“You like this, baby?” he grunts, his pace picking up, hips snapping into mine, making the table creak beneath us.

“Like me fucking you here, where you work, where you make your pottery pieces?” His hand slides between us, his fingers finding my clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts.

“Gonna think about this every time you sit at that wheel, aren’t you?

Gonna remember how I stretched you open, how I made you come all over me? ”

I’m gone—completely undone, my body burning, shaking, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter. “Yes,” I gasp, nails dragging down his back, my hips lifting to meet every thrust. “Ryan, I?—”

He groans, his thrusts growing erratic, harder, deeper. “That’s it. Say my name when you come.”

I whimper, my thighs tightening around him, my body arching as he drives deeper, hits the spot that makes me see white. He groans, gripping my chin, tilting my face up so I have to meet his eyes, have to see the hunger there, the possession burning through him.

“You’re mine,” he breathes, his forehead pressing against mine, his pace slow but brutal, every thrust sinking deep, stealing my breath. “ I’m your boyfriend. No one else gets to have you like this. No one else gets to see you like this—spread out, messy, dripping, fucking begging for me.”

My cry is swallowed by his mouth as he kisses me, his hips rolling into mine, making sure I know who’s inside me.

His voice is ragged, his breath hot against my ear as he thrusts deeper, harder. “You’re mine,” he rasps. “ My fucking girl.”

His words send a wave of heat crashing through me, make my walls clench tight around him. Ryan groans, his body shuddering against mine.

“Say it,” he demands, his breath ragged across my face, his hand finding my clit, rubbing in slow, devastating circles. “Tell me who you belong to.”

I’m breaking apart, pleasure tightening in my core. I can’t fight it, don’t want to.

“You,” I gasp, my back arching off the worktable. “Yours, Ryan—fuck, I’m yours.”

His fingers press harder against my clit, his cock hitting the perfect spot, and then I’m shattering—my body tightening, my vision going white as pleasure crashes over me, my cries breaking into gasps.

Ryan follows, burying himself deep, his body tensing, a low, wrecked moan spilling from his lips as he pulses inside me, filling me with his cum.

“Damn right you are,” he groans, kissing me, swallowing my cries as we both shatter together.

The world goes quiet. Just the sound of our breathing, and the faint hum of the wheel still spinning behind us.

My head drops back, landing on the worktable with a thud, my heart still racing out of my chest.

Neither of us moves right away, but then Ryan shifts, his hands slipping beneath my thighs. I barely have time to react before he’s tugging me down the length of the worktable and lifting me into his arms.

I gasp, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. “Ryan?—”

He kisses me before I can finish. Slow this time.

His fingers find my hair, brushing it back gently. His eyes lock on mine—still dark, still burning, but softer now.

“You,” he murmurs, voice low and warm, “are going to kill me.”

I smile, still breathless, still clinging to him. “You’ll survive.”

He chuckles, presses one last kiss to my lips, then lets his forehead rest against mine.

“So, uh…” he says, glancing behind his shoulder. “You think we can still save that vase?”

A snort escapes me, tired and giddy. I glance back at the ruined lump of clay spinning awkwardly on the wheel. “I’m afraid not.”

He chuckles, arms tightening around me like he’s not ready to let go. “Guess we’ll just have to make a new one.”