Amery was still reeling so much from the kiss, from the surge of self-satisfaction she’d gotten driving Ronin Black to the brink of orgasm, that she’d forgotten he’d immobilized her arms.
A condom wrapper crinkled. He sucked in a sharp breath after he reached between her legs and found her drenched. Then he opened her, aimed his cock, and impaled her to the hilt.
She gasped. She was already so close. And the rapid-fire pistoning of his hips only increased that pressure. That need. She squirmed against the mattress, searching for some relief for her aching clit.
“Don’t make me guess, tell me what you need.”
“Push my clit into the mattress when you . . .” And just like that he changed the angle of penetration, so every single drive gave her the friction she needed.
But he went a step further, latching on to her hips and sliding them against the sheet so the contact was constant as he slammed his c**k in and out.
Pulling and pushing . . . Amery couldn’t hold back the surprised yelp when she started to come. Heat and friction and throbbing and tightening. Her mind shut down to everything but the pleasure.
When the whoosh of consciousness roused her, she tried to push upright, but her arms didn’t work and she panicked.
Ronin’s body covered hers and he kissed her temple. “You’re okay. You blissed out there for a second.”
“Oh.”
His heated breath drifted over her ear. “That was incredible. Thank you.”
“So I zoned out while you . . . ?”
“Came like a wild man?” he teased. “Yes. But, baby, that is the ultimate compliment.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “Stay still and I’ll undo your hands.”
The way he untied her was as erotic as the way he tied them. With almost a loving touch.
You’re reaching. This isn’t love, just a case of supersized lust.
Then Ronin brought her onto the mattress and caressed her back. Not just with his fingertips, but with his whole hand. As if he couldn’t get enough of the curve of her spine, the edges of her shoulder blades, the breadth of her neck, the flare of her hips, and the roundness of her ass.
And Amery was so sated she didn’t ever want to move.
“Your skin is remarkable,” he murmured, and bent to kiss her shoulder. “Like ivory.”
“You mean sickly looking pasty white.”
“No, I mean like ivory. There aren’t many moles or freckles to mar the perfection.”
“That’s because I’ve spent most of my life avoiding the sun. I’ve had to slather on sunscreen every day since I was a little girl or else my skin turns cherry red. Then it blisters. Some of the kids I went to school with called me an albino.”
It’d bothered her during junior high, when everyone was at the city pool, playing in the water and soaking up the sun. On the rare occasions her parents had allowed her go to the pool, she’d had to sit in the shade, covered in SPF 75, which had been bad enough. But add to it that she had to wear a T-shirt over her one-piece swimming suit because of the congregation’s stance on modesty, and by age fifteen she’d stopped asking to go swimming with her friends.
“You tensed up. Why?” Ronin asked, zigzagging his fingertips across her lower back.
“Thinking about all the rules my parents set for me still has an impact on me, sad to say.”
“Why?”
“My dad is a minister. I grew up in a hard-core fundamentalist household. Anything fun was considered a sin and would be punished by God—or my father. My mom’s goal in life was to be the perfect minister’s wife. Her job was to make sure the minister’s children were examples of godly perfection in the eyes of the congregation and the community.”
“Were you the rebellious minister’s child?”
“No. I followed the rules, even when I didn’t agree with them, because it was easier than fighting with my parents. By age sixteen I counted down the days until I could be free of that life and that small town. I kept my grades up because I knew college would save me. And it did. My parents weren’t happy with my choice because I’d opted for a state school instead of a private Christian college. Even now I still struggle with acting bold, acting how I want to, when the girl inside me who abided by the rules for so many years tells me my actions and thoughts are morally wrong.” She wanted to hide her face after that confession. Would Ronin believe, as Tyler did, that she’d never be able to tackle those demons from her past?
“Seems family expectations can bog us down no matter how old we get.”
Tears sparked her eyes; he did understand.
“How’s your relationship with them now?”
She inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Strained. I almost never go home. They repeatedly subject me to the I’ve forgotten all my family and Christian values lecture. You’d think they’d clue in that their shaming attitude about how I’ve chosen to live my life isn’t making me want to come home. But the kicker is, they’ve never visited me in Denver. Not once in six years. I rarely hear from my father directly—which isn’t all bad. My mother calls me maybe once a month, mostly to see if I’ve had a ‘come back to Jesus’ moment or if I’ve met a decent man. I always need a stiff drink after that conversation. Or during it.”
Ronin kissed her temple. “That’s got to be hard.”
“It is. But I don’t miss anything about that life or who I was expected to be.”