probably doesn’t matter anyway. My limbs are shaky, and Ridge’s thrusts are so powerful that I’m not sure I’d be able to stay upright on my hands and knees even if I tried.
So instead, I turn my head to one side and grip the blanket in tight fists, arching my back and thrusting my ass back toward Ridge to give him a better angle.
He drops his head to press hot, messy kisses to my shoulder, shifting my sweat-dampened hair to one side.
“Touch yourself,” he murmurs in my ear, the words somewhere between a command and a plea. “I want to feel you come again.”
I don’t hesitate even a second. I unclench the fingers of one hand from around the blanket and wriggle my hand between the mattress and my body. The first touch to my clit makes me whimper. It’s almost too much, my body too sensitive from the onslaught of sensations.
But I want to come again, just as much as Ridge wants me to.
I want him to feel me clench around him.
I want him to lose himself in me.
Starting with small circles around my swollen bud, I slowly work my way inward, letting the pressure build inside me until I’m writhing beneath Ridge, alternately grinding against my hand and pressing back against him.
When I come, I turn my head and bury my face in the blanket, muffling my scream of pleasure.
Ridge stops.
For a second, he hovers over me, the heat of his body behind me burning like a furnace. I can feel the gusts of his breath against my neck and feel the pounding of his heart even though his chest isn’t even touching me. I can feel the tension in him, the way his cock pulses inside me, so close, held back only by a thread.
Slowly, he draws out, the friction of his cock against my inner walls making me shiver.
Then he turns me over onto my back again, and the moment our gazes meet, I know I’ll never be able to look away.
He slides back into me, and his last few thrusts are so deep and deliberate that I feel them deep in the pit of my belly, all the way down to my soul.
“I love you,” he whispers.
On the final stroke, he stills inside me, his cock throbbing and pulsing endlessly as he presses as deep as he can get, flooding me with his cum. My core clamps down around him, milking every last bit of his release, and even when he finally stops coming, neither one of us moves.
We just stare at each other, as if we’re each seeing some part of the other person for the first time.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, but when he finally pulls out, we both groan in protest, as if separating our bodies after such an intense experience is physically painful. It doesn’t hurt, but the emptiness I feel as he slides out of me makes me immediately pull him back toward me. I’m not ready to lose the contact between us just yet.
He doesn’t resist, settling down beside me and tugging me into his embrace. We lie in a nest of mussed blankets, some of them hanging off the bed from the force of our coupling. I turn into him, his arm beneath my head, his other arm draped over my hip, and our legs intertwined.
Ridge’s chest is slick with perspiration beneath my fingers, but his body is no longer that rigid stone he became when he was lost in his grief. All the tension has seeped away from him, leaving him languid and satiated.
“I don’t know how to feel,” he says, breaking the silence so suddenly that it startles me.
I glance up at him, brow wrinkling. “What do you mean?”
“About Lawson.” He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “We weren’t close. Not since we were kids, and that was a long damn time ago. But now, I don’t know. I wish we’d found a way to connect. There was so much bad blood between us.” His voice cracks on the last word, and he clears his throat, his gaze moving away from mine as if he’s embarrassed by his emotions. “Too late to fix it now.”
I trace my fingers over his chest but stay quiet. I get the feeling he isn’t done unloading, and I want him to. I want him to get all this off his chest. The longer he holds it all in, the worse it’ll be when it