Hold Me Close - Talia Hibbert Page 0,81

teasing light in his eyes. “You’ll wear me out.”

“Liar.” She squeezed his erection as he pulled off her knickers, and then released a choked gasp as he thrust two fingers inside her.

“Come on,” he said calmly, even as his hand worked over her mound. “Sit up for me, love.”

Because she wasn’t supposed to lie on her back for too long, now, and definitely not during sex. As Ruth pushed herself into a seated position, helped by Evan’s strong arm, she moaned. Every shift brought his fingers into contact with that delicious spot that sent her eyes rolling back.

Evan pulled her into his lap, so that her back rested against his chest. She spread her legs wide and looked down to watch his fingers thrusting into her—but his rigid cock blocked the view.

“On your knees,” he said softly, and she adjusted until she was straddling his thighs. He pulled his fingers from her pussy, and she tried not to whimper—but it was hard, so fucking hard, when she could feel his naked skin on hers, his body surrounding her, his laboured breath against her neck.

“Evan,” she moaned softly, and he bit gently at her throat.

“Shhh, love. It’s okay. I have you.” He gripped her thighs, pulled her up slightly, and she reached down to guide his cock. When the swollen head pushed into her, they both released a tight breath.

Evan wrapped an arm around her hips, slid the other over her gently swaying breasts. As his fingers pinched one taut nipple, hard, Ruth let her head fall back against his shoulder.

“There,” he whispered. His beard brushed her throat, his lips grazing her ear. “Is that what you wanted, my love?”

“Yes,” she panted, but it wasn’t completely true. Ruth shifted her hips, clenched her muscles around him, chased the growing pressure within her.

He laughed. “Are you sure?” And his hands moved, cradling her hips, holding her tight, lifting her—fuck. He pulled her up, and delicious friction burst to life inside her. Then he pushed her down again, onto his cock, and said, “You don’t want that?”

“I do,” she gasped out, her voice almost a sob. “I do. Please, Evan—” She broke off as he repeated the movement, his strong arms lifting her, letting her fall again, sliding her up and down his length. “Oh, Jesus,” she moaned. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips as he moaned too, low and raw and deep in his throat. He sounded like an animal. The heavy pants of his breath felt almost feverish against her skin, and then he bit her, sinking his teeth into her shoulder, and Ruth had to reach down and rub her clit because this was too fucking much.

“You’re so beautiful,” he rasped out, his hips jerking beneath her. “You’re so beautiful and perfect and you’re mine.”

“And you’re mine.” Ruth rubbed harder, tried to ride him even though it was a struggle, even though he set the pace and moved her body for her, because she was reaching that desperate, frantic point when lust surpasses reason. “Fuck, Evan. Christ, I love you.”

“I know.” He slammed her down harder onto his cock, bit her shoulder again.

And she came. Screaming, sobbing, breathless, sated. That was how he always left her, any time she asked for it.

Evan came too, with a choked moan that always made her smile, because it belonged to moments like this. And then they sat there for a while, his arms wrapped around her, Ruth’s hands clinging to him. She could feel his length softening inside her and even that, weirdly enough, made her happy. Everything made her happy.

“Perfect,” she murmured, her body still soft and liquid with pleasure.

He roused enough to press a kiss against her cheek. “I love you. Will you sleep, now?”

“Oh, is that what that was? You putting me to sleep?”

“Depends. Did it work?”

Ruth closed her eyes, resting her head against his shoulder. “Maybe. Possibly.”

“Good. You need your rest.” Which was an ironic statement, considering what he’d just done with her, but Ruth would let that slide. He murmured, “Don’t worry about tomorrow, okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“You know I won’t let you down.”

“I’ve never worried about that,” she said. “You’re perfect.”

Evan raised a hand to her forehead. “Are you okay?” He asked incredulously. “Feverish at all? Hysterical? No?”

“Shut up.” She pulled his hand away, then kissed his palm. “I wasn’t worried about you. I was worried about me.”

“Well, don’t. Because you’re perfect too.”

“I most certainly am not.”

Evan tutted. “Don’t insult my wife. I