He does.
He stares at our reflection as I grind against him.
As he toys with my nipples.
As he pushes me to the brink of what I can take.
The song shifts into the next. It's softer. Slower.
I match its pace, but it's torture.
My sex screams for attention. For him.
He's so fucking hard.
The chorus fades into the verse.
Into the next chorus.
My eyelids flutter closed.
He rolls my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, sending a pang to my sex.
He does it again.
Verse.
Again and again.
Breakdown.
I open my eyes. Turn to face him. Stare at him as I grind against him.
This is my dance.
I'm still in control.
I plant a slow, deep kiss on his lips.
Then I shift off his lap.
Onto my knees.
I unbutton and unzip his jeans.
Fuck.
I brush my lips against his cock. But the tease isn't enough. I need him coming. I need release.
I take him into my mouth.
His hand knots in my hair.
His gaze goes to the mirror.
Mine follows. God, he's a genius, setting that thing up at a forty-five-degree angle.
I watch his cock strain my dark lips.
Watch his hand knot in my purple hair.
I'm naked, on my knees for him.
And it's so fucking hot.
Feminine power fills me. He's mine. He's under my spell. Under my control.
God, I need him to be mine.
I take him as deep as I can then I pull back and do it again and again.
Ryan tugs at my hair, pulling me off him. "I'm coming inside you."
My sex clenches.
"On the couch. On your back."
We're on the next song, but I still want my control.
I crawl onto the couch, but I don't get onto my back. I plant on my hands and knees. "Fuck me. Now."
"Not until I taste your cunt."
His fingers curl around my thighs. "Ass up."
I raise my hips. Lower my shoulders.
He holds onto my legs as he brings his mouth to me.
I watch him plant a long, slow lick on my clit.
It's weird and intoxicating, watching him work me.
Tension builds in my sex as he licks me.
His nails curl into my thighs.
He goes harder. Faster.
"Fuck." I rock my hips, pressing my sex against him. "Fuck me. I want to come with you. Please."
"Fuck, Leigh." He nips at my inner thigh.
My sex aches from emptiness. "Please."
His groan is low. Heavy.
He pushes himself onto his knees.
His hands go to my hips.
Slowly, he pulls my body onto his.
I stare at our reflection, watching his cock fill my cunt.
He drives into me with deep, steady thrusts.
My tits bounce.
His hand knots in my hair.
The other slides between my legs.
He strokes me as he fucks me.
Pleasure builds quickly. It's intense watching our bodies join.
A few more thrusts and I'm there.
"Fuck. Ryan." I squeeze the fabric of the couch, but it does nothing to stave off my orgasm.
With his next thrust, I go over the edge.
My sex pulses as I come.
I groan his name again and again.
Then he's there.
His cock pulses.
He thrusts through his orgasm, groaning my name as he comes.
When he's finished, he untangles our bodies and pulls me into his lap.
"You're fucking amazing." He presses his lips to my neck. "I ever tell you that?"
"Yeah, but I don't mind hearing it again."
"Don't go anywhere."
"I live here."
"No, Leigh." He wraps his arms around me. "Don't leave."
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ryan
The next few days are paradise.
I see Leighton every break at work.
Spend every night at her place.
Sunday, she finishes work early and laces up her running shoes. I can't join her—I'm stuck finishing this sleeve—but I promise to work her hard after.
She begs for the mercy of my air conditioning.
I offer her my spare key.
Somehow, I manage to focus on work even with my client teasing me about my relationship with the hot purple-haired chick.
I manage to get to my car, drive home, park.
My thoughts turn dirty the second I step inside.
Leighton is sitting on my couch in nothing but a black towel.
Fuck. That's a welcome home.
She tugs at the soft cotton. "You have to admit this is overboard."
"What about it?"
She points to the black couch. The black dining table. The black coffee maker. The black frames.
"Should I get red frames?"
"Purple."
"Buy them. I'll put them up."
"You'll let me decorate your apartment?"
"You have good taste."
Her dark lips—her makeup and hair are as perfect as always—press into a smile. "What if I adorn the walls in posters of hot rock stars?"
"Not gonna find anyone hotter than I am."
Her smile widens. "Is that right?"
"Yeah." I kick the door closed. Click the lock. "You disagree?"
"No. Just glad you see it." She reaches for something on the black coffee table—my spare key. She holds it up, offering it to me. "You need this back?"
"Keep it."
"You sure?"
"Yeah." There aren't many things I'm sure of. Leighton being in my life is a no-brainer.
"Okay." She picks her pink, gem-stone shaped purse off the floor and carefully tucks the key into a hidden zipper.
"Where do you find that shit?"
"Shit?"
I motion to the shiny purse.
"I assume you mean amazing clothes and accessories."
"Of course."
"You really need to work on your sweet talk."
"Where do you find that amazing shit?"
She laughs. "Internet. Where else?"
"You think I'm carefully cultivating my t-shirt collection?"
She stands and cinches the towel. "Of course." Her teeth sink into her lip as she drops the towel. "You have to find just the right shade of black."
I can't help but chuckle.
She motions come here.
I do.
Her fingers curl into my belt loop. She tugs at my jeans, pulling my body against hers.
There's only one layer between my skin and hers. I need to have her. Now.
"Your jeans always hug your ass just so." Her fingers skim my stomach. "That doesn't happen by accident."
"And?"
"Your hair—nobody rolls out of bed with perfect waves."
I can't help but smile. "What if I do?"
"I'll hate you forever."
"You don't already?"
She shakes her head. Tugs at my belt loop as she takes a step backward. "You can admit you try."
"Can I?"
Her nod is heavy.
"Can I be honest with you, Leigh?"
She looks behind her to turn the hallway corner backward. "Of course."