Resting my hand on his chest, I lean up and press a kiss to his lips. He kisses me back, his tattooed arms going around me as he pulls me closer, trapping my hand between us. His lips move against mine, warm and hungry.
Music still plays from the speakers. I’m not sure how long we’ve been training for, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s enough for today. There are other things I want to do with Ryland, and none of them involve hitting him.
He must feel the same way, because he lifts me off my feet and lays me on the floor in one quick movement. He sets the gun aside as he hovers over me, his large body braced over mine. My legs fall open, welcoming him into the cradle of my body as he kisses me again, his tongue stroking against mine.
When he draws away to look down at me, the beautiful hazel of his eyes is filled with warmth.
“I love you,” he murmurs.
A smile pulls at my lips. “I know.”
It’s still pretty new, hearing any of these men say those words to me, but I know I’ll never get tired of hearing them. Ryland isn’t the only one who might’ve spent his life closed off and cold if circumstances hadn’t forced him to change.
When Ryland kisses me again, it’s harder and deeper, his lips moving against mine as he braces himself up with one hand. The other roams over my body, giving my breast a not-too-gentle squeeze before gliding down and fisting the hem of my tank top.
I arch my back as he drags it up and over my head. My nipples peak as cool air hits them, and I’m suddenly glad I wore a tank top with a small built-in bra. It’s one fewer layer for Ryland to have to take off.
He’s pleased too, if the low growl in his throat is any indication.
He works his way down my neck and chest, swirling his tongue over one nipple while his fingers play with the other. Then he moves lower, nipping at the skin of my stomach as his hands latch on to the waistband of my workout pants.
Dragging them down along with my underwear, he presses a kiss to my inner thigh as soon as he has access to my bare skin. He abandons my pants somewhere around my ankles, leaving my shoes on too as he grips my thighs in his large hands and presses them open.
I groan as he drags his tongue up the line of my pussy, shifting my hips and grinding against his face, impatient for more already. “Fuck, Ryland.”
He looks up at me, and I take advantage of his attention, grabbing a fistful of his almost-black hair and dragging him toward me. His mouth on my pussy feels amazing, but I need something else right now.
“Don’t you dare make me come without your cock inside me,” I rasp out, giving another tug on his hair.
He laughs, and I feel the vibrations of it against my clit before he gives me what I want, crawling up my body to hover over me again. I help him lose his shirt, pulling impatiently on the hem as he drags it over his head. Then my hand skates down the chiseled planes of his torso, my fingertips grazing the ridges of his abs before delving lower. I brush against the line of his cock through his athletic pants, and he shudders slightly.
With one hand, he shoves his pants down over his ass and hips, allowing his cock to spring free. It’s heavy and hard, the tip of it brushing against my stomach and smearing a drop of precum against my skin.
“You want this, Ayla? You want me?”
The roughness of his voice makes my pussy clench. He fucking knows I do. But he wants to hear me say it.
And I want to tell him.
“Yes,” I breathe. “Fuck me, Ryland. Hard. Please.”
His pupils dilate, the blackness expanding and eating up the color of his irises. He fists himself, dragging his cock down my stomach and through my neatly trimmed curls before circling my clit with the head of his dick.
I writhe beneath him, working my hips in tandem with his movements, getting myself off on his cock. “God. More.”
He grunts, dragging his shaft a little lower until the broad head breaches my entrance. He shifts his hips forward just a little, just enough to let me feel him, sliding in barely more than an inch.
The tease, the promise of what’s coming, draws a low whine from my throat. My hips are moving again, rolling toward his as I try to bring him deeper inside my needy channel. My damn pants are still stuck around my ankles, preventing me from wrapping my legs around him, so all I can do is wait until he decides to give me what I need.
What we both need.
Glancing downward, I watch his abs flex with every small thrust, watch his dick pulse as he slides partway into my body. It’s filthy and gorgeous, completely maddening and so fucking hot.
And then, without warning, he draws back a little and slams inside, filling me to the brim in one hard stroke.
My head tilts back on a scream of pleasure as sensations rush through my body, lighting up my nerve endings like gasoline poured on a fire. The heavy, angry beat of the music playing from the speakers is a perfect accompaniment as Ryland starts to fuck me hard, drawing out and driving in again.
I clutch at his shoulder, holding on as our bodies rock against the floor. When my eyelids start to droop closed, Ryland grabs a fistful of my hair close to the scalp, tilting my head up a little again.
“No. Don’t close your eyes. Look at me, Ayla. Only at me.”
My eyelids fly wide open, and my gaze locks with his. His face hovers close to mine, the lines of his features taut with desire and effort as he pounds into me.
He fucks me like it’s the first time. Like he’s scared it might be the last time. And even as his tempo picks up and the sound of our bodies colliding rises over the music, he doesn’t let go of that connection between us. One hand stays wrapped around my hair, and he doesn’t look away as he drives into me over and over.
I don’t know if he’s doing it on purpose, or if he’s even aware of it, but the way he’s fucking me now is the complete opposite of the way he kissed me that morning at the safe house—a day that feels like a million years ago now.
That kiss was feather-light, and even though I could feel how much he wanted it, how much he craved the connection between us, he was still pulling himself away.
But this?
This is him pouring himself into me, giving me every bit of himself. Letting me feel the full force of his desire and trusting that I can take it.
That he won’t break me.
Pleasure hums just beneath my skin, filling my body from head to toe, overwhelming in its intensity. And when it breaks in a rush, the orgasm crashing through me, I don’t close my eyes or look away from Ryland’s hungry gaze.
I let him see everything, and I feed all of it right back into him.
“Fuck. Oh, fuck. Ayla!”
He grunts out my name, slamming into me one more time before grinding his hips against mine in harsh circles, his cock pulsing inside me. I can feel the hot flood of his cum, and my walls clench around him as if demanding every last drop.
When our bodies finally still, Ryland drops his forehead to my shoulder, breathing hard. I crane my neck to nuzzle against him, drawing in a deep lungful of his spicy sandalwood scent. The musky scent of sweat is mixed in too, and I know he could probably taste the salt of my sweat when he worked his way down my body earlier.
Without lifting his head. Ryland reaches down between us, finding my clit with his fingertips. It’s still throbbing with the aftershocks of my climax, and the feel of his broad fingers rolling over it makes each pulse feel like a mini-orgasm.