Falling For You (Love In All Seasons #2) - Frankie Love Page 0,38
more than sex and my virginity.
It’s something holy.
It feels like fate. Like we were written in the stars.
It was destined to go this way.
And I can’t help but think that I got really damn lucky to be kidnapped by him last night.
Why did I ever decide to hold out so long for sex? Whatever Ryder is doing to me, it’s heaven on earth.
I wouldn’t have wanted to share this moment with anyone else. When Ryder presses his cock deep inside me, my core ignites, and the idea of this pleasure ending—or of this pleasure being shared with any other man—it causes tears to spring to my eyes.
“Don’t cry,” he tells me. His cock is against my throbbing pussy, my needy body.
“They aren’t sad tears, I promise. They’re happy tears.” I blink widely, embarrassed to be getting so emotional right now.
But he doesn’t seem embarrassed by my tears at all. Most guys are. Most guys hate to see women cry. But Ryder just uses his thumb to wipe them away, cradling my face with his strong, capable hands as he moves against me.
For some reason, he’s good with me. He understands what I need and I’m so glad that I’m here with him, a man who wants to take care of me. Who wants to make this moment memorable. It could have been so much worse.
I don’t know how awful his ex-stepfather really is. If he’s the monster Ryder claims him to be, but I don’t care right now. Because right now, I only care about our bodies being locked together.
“It feels so deep, like I’m going to break in half,” I tell him. My arms wrap around his neck and I bury my face in his shoulder. The feeling is desperate and raw, my breath shortens as I am filled by him.
“That means you’re about to come,” he tells me, nibbling my ear.
“It never feels like this,” I tell him. And it doesn’t because when the orgasm arrives it’s like a steamroller has gone to town in my core. My pussy begs for relief but it’s only getting more of a tidal wave.
I scream louder than I expect, my legs wrapping around Ryder tightly, not wanting to let go as I moan over and over again, my body unraveling against him.
“Oh yeah, baby, just like that, I’m gonna come in you too,” he growls.
And he does, his cock explodes, releasing a fountain of come inside me. It feels so good. Ryder makes me feel so beautiful and alive. And to be filled with his manhood, with his seed, a sensation of desire covering me. I know I’m on birth control but this moment feels reckless and full of possibility.
“Don’t stop moving,” I tell him, wanting our bodies to grind against one another now and forever. Wanting our bodies to move in this rhythm until the end of time. Or at least until the sun rises.
I move against him, my clit on fire and my body exhausted. I don’t want to stop. Ever.
“That was perfect,” I moan, gasping for breath. “The perfect first time.”
Ryder smiles down at me, kissing my nose, my cheeks, my forehead. “Good, after you leave tomorrow, I never want you to forget me.”
The idea of forgetting him seems impossible. But so is the idea that I am leaving tomorrow, and this one-off experience will be over.
“I’m not ready for the night to end,” I admit.
He raises his eyebrows. “How about we rehydrate and then come back for some more dessert?” he asks.
“I don’t even know what kind of dessert we would have after we just did that.”
“Justine, there’s a lot more ways we can have that ice cream and shortbread. I promise.”
I lick my lips, satiated, and my belly full. And I can’t imagine taking another bite.
But then Ryder pulls his cock from my pussy and I frown, already hating to be apart.
Well, in that case...
My eyes twinkle in delight.
I guess there’s nothing wrong with having another helping of something sweet.
Chapter 12
Ryder
I wake with Justine naked in my arms. I kiss the top of her head, inhaling the soft vanilla scent of her shampoo and wondering how on God’s green Earth I’ll be able to go back to an empty bed after having one night of exquisite bliss with her.
“Mmhmm,” she moans softly, waking up. Her legs are threaded with mine and our bodies are wrapped in the tangled sheets—we are the remains of a night fueled by sex.