Chapter Seven
Juliet left Ryder to show Tiny some love, quickly showering and throwing her newly-gifted Smoke jersey over her head.
By the time he joined her ten minutes later, the room was lit by the row of pastel fairy lights strung across her window frame and she was sitting semi-propped against the bedhead, her arms by her sides, her legs crossed at the ankles, his Akubra tipped back on her head.
The jersey barely covered the essentials and a strip of three condoms lay on the pillow beside her.
He sucked up all the oxygen as soon as he stepped in the room. He stood at the end of her bed, looking down at her, his pure male physicality drawing her gaze like a moth to flame.
If she hadn’t already been about as wet as was humanly possible for any woman to be, the way his gaze inched up her body from her toes to her face would have done it for sure.
“Fuck. Me.” His breath tumbled out on a ragged whisper. “My hat and that jersey look far better on you than they ever have on me.”
At another time Juliet would debate that with him, but right now she was melting into the bed under his hot stare, his gaze zeroed in on the juncture between her legs that was barely covered by tight jersey fabric.
“Are you wearing any panties?”
“Why don’t you come over here and find out?”
“Oh god.” He groaned. “You’re not, are you?”
Juliet smiled, loving the rough, almost desperate edge to his voice and the way he didn’t seem to be able to drag his eyes away. Very slowly, very deliberately, she uncrossed her ankles and parted her legs a little, the cool bedding an erotic caress against the heated backs of her thighs.
He groaned again, his jaw clenching. Juliet doubted he could see any more from his vantage point than he’d been able to when her legs had been crossed, but he was staring like he could.
The pulse that pounded through her chest set up the same rhythm between her legs, begging to be soothed. It was torture waiting for him to move. She wanted him on her and in her and around her. She parted her legs a little more, loving his swift intake of breath.
“Ryder.”
The desperation in her voice must have broken through his trance. “Just let me…” He pointed to her en suite. “Stay just like that.”
His rough command leadened her limbs, weighting her body to the bed, anchoring it in his desire. In her desire. She couldn’t have moved if the house had been on fire.
Noises from the en suite floated out to her—water running, cutting out, running again—but the sounds of her body were louder. The trip in her pulse, the catch in her breath, the buzz between her legs.
The low hum of tension physically holding her body in its shape, preventing it from dissolving into a puddle.
He was shoeless when he reappeared in the doorway, his belt gone, the tab of his jeans popped, a glimpse of chest hair visible through his unbuttoned shirt. He didn’t say anything as he made his way to the end of the bed. He just looked down at her, his gaze travelling up her body, snagging and stopping on the hem of the jersey again.
“Show me your pussy.”
Juliet bit back a moan as his husky request hit like a sledgehammer between her legs. A hot, liquid ooze slickened her already saturated sex.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him as her trembling fingers slid onto the fabric at her hips and slowly gathered it upwards, the hem rising little by little. Couldn’t take her eyes off the flare of his nostrils and the clench of his hands as she exposed herself to him.
“Stop.”
She froze. The hem had just barely exposed her sex to his gaze, but the cool caress of air flowing around her heated centre was a particularly heinous form of torture. He stared at her, at what she’d bared to him, stared long and hard, his mouth parting, his breathing a rough spill in the laden air.
“So pretty,” he muttered.
Juliet suppressed the urge to squirm. To moan. To beg. To arch her back and touch herself.
“Spread your legs.” His voice was deep and dark, the glow in his eyes feral.
This was what he’d looked like on the field tonight. Running the plays. Focused on the job.
Dominant. Decisive. Certain.
Male.
Juliet couldn’t look away from him as she eased her legs farther apart, his heavy stare taking her breath away. Her whole body trembled with need now as she waited for his next move. Slowly, his hands lifted to the open flaps of his shirt and he shrugged out of it.
It was her turn to stare, the warm glow of coloured lights throwing the dips and plains of his chest in fascinating relief, deepening his tan and getting lost in the sleek pelt of dark chest hair decorating his pecs. Her gaze trekked south as the hair continued in a thick slab down his abs, disappearing behind the low slung waistband of his jeans.
The noise of his zip was like the drag of a fingernail down her spine, and Juliet moaned, helpless to stop, as he pushed first the denim, then his underwear, down and off. He stood tall and proud in front of her, his abs taut, his shoulders back, his stare still fixed between her legs, dark and hooded and intense.
His nudity was breathtaking, his cock jutting out thick and hard as he shoved his hands on his hips.
It was a thoroughly arrogant pose. Like a prince. Or a feudal lord.
And her body responded in kind, waiting with baited breath for his next royal command, his next move. Knowing she’d do just about anything for him in this moment, with the wild beat of her pulse echoing though her ears and her gut and the slick heat at her heart.
Open her mouth. Roll over. Get on all fours.
Beg.
He placed a knee on the end of the bed followed by both hands, sliding them toward her, under her calves and higher still, urging her legs up, lifting them over his shoulders as his abs lowered to the bed, his palms finding her thighs, smoothing up their sides.
His cock disappeared from sight as he flattened out completely, his fingers slipping just under the hem of the jersey at her hips, her calves propped against the flats of his shoulder blades. He settled himself between her legs, his gaze fixed downward as his mouth hovered just above her exposed centre.
“God.” His groan rumbled over her, his breath a soft, warm burr on her inner thighs. “You’re wet.”
Her sex clenched at the rawness of his words and Juliet wondered if he’d seen it—he was close enough, after all. “I’ve been wet ever since you ran onto the field.”
He glanced at her, his gaze travelling all the way up her body. “Really?”
Juliet gave a half laugh, pleased for a release in the tension. “Watching you play rugby was totally hot.”
His hands slid under the jersey, taking it up with them, his gaze following the progress over the slight rise of her stomach and the ruts of her ribs, not stopping until her breasts were also bared to his view. “Thinking about fucking you afterwards was making me totally hot.”
Her belly quivered at his dirty emphasis and the way his palms each claimed a breast, his thumbs brushing against the taut, engorged nipples. She moaned at the stimulus, her breathing a rough, wanton pant.
He glanced up, his gaze boring into hers. “Do you remember I told you next time I was going to use my tongue?”
Juliet’s abs tightened and she drew in a breath too thin and reedy to be of any use. “Yes.”
“Do you like it when a guy does that?”
She was hardly an expert in the oral pleasure department. She loved giving it, but her ex had rarely gone down and she’d never orgasmed from cunnilingus alone. But god help her, she loved the sensation. “Yes.”
His thumbs rubbed back and forth over her nipples maddeningly slow. “Would you like me to do it?”
Juliet swallowed, dizzy with wanting him to do it. To have Ryder’s head between her legs, Ryder’s tongue on her clit. “Yes.”
He dropped his head then, lowering his mouth close but not quite making contact. From her propped position she could see everything. His bowed head, the hover of his lips, the flare of his nostrils as he inhaled the scent of her arousal.
Could see the moment his tongue flicked out and swiped right down her middle.
Juliet gasped at the long, slow lick. An avalanche of heat crashed through her from the backs of her thighs to her buttocks, twisting all the way up her spine to the base of her skull.
His long, deep groan settled like lead into her bones as he glanced up at her. “Fuck. I’d knew you taste this good.”
Her belly clenched, then he went back to it. In earnest. Finding her clit and flaying it with his tongue. Her eyes shut as he drove mercilessly on, her neck losing its ability to hold her head upright, her head thunking against the headboard, his Akubra tumbling off.
There were no fancy moves, no nuance of technique, just relentless pressure in the perfect spot, exactly where she needed it. The hard bead of her clit constricted tighter and tighter beneath the onslaught, mimicking the state of her nipples as he rolled and tweaked them in unison.
A powerful contraction took her by surprise, starting in the lips of her sex, heavy with arousal, and rippling out in hot waves. Juliet cried out at the wonder of it.
She was going to come. From oral. From just his tongue.
He pinched her nipples and she bucked against his mouth, her climax spiralling through her, real and fast, not something just out of reach but here, now, expanding outwards in ever-increasing circles, touching every part of her body.
No man had ever done this, and her heart hammered as much at that revelation as the sensations consuming her.
“Ryder!”
She gasped, stiffened as it intensified, her back arching, one hand reaching for the sheet, the other for his head, curling into his hair, seeking an anchor in the storm of sensations.
As if sensing her need, his hands flattened against her breasts, pinning her to the mattress with his palms as well as his mouth. Not lifting either of them, focussed on his job, focussed on her pleasure.
Pleasure that bathed her in light. Light so bright that it lit up the fevered corners of her mind and all the mysteries of her body. That strummed through her veins and filled her lungs and shook through her limbs. That tightened her thighs around his head and drummed her heels hard against the small of his back.
That grabbed her heart and squeezed.
It rolled through her cells like the tide on a full moon—big and full—leaving her utterly exhausted when it finally rolled away, her cries dying to mute whimpers, her lungs reaching for air, her hand slack on his head, her calves boneless against his back, her body finally losing its shape as it dissolved into the mattress.
“Holy fuck,” she whispered, the fairy lights above her a blur as she opened her eyes. “That has never happened to me before.”
He dropped a kiss on one inner thigh, then the other, before propping his chin low on her abs. His gaze was slow and lazy, brimming with lust and heat, his eyelids leaden. He stroked her breasts lightly with the backs of his fingers and she shivered, her nipples extraordinarily sensitive.
“No guy has ever made you come from head?”
“Nope.”
His fingers trekked south, swirling circles over her ribs and abs. “That is a tragedy.”
Juliet couldn’t disagree. But she knew a lot of women in the same boat. “Believe it or not, it’s quite common.”
He smiled at her as he rubbed his chin against her belly, his rough whiskers scattering goose bumps all the way down her legs. “I’ve never had any complaints.”
She sighed as her abs quivered under his touch. She didn’t have any doubt.
“You just needed a committed vagitarian.”
Vagitarian? Juliet laughed. “That’s you, huh?”
“Absolutely.” His fingers circled her navel. “They call us pussy whisperers.”
She laughed again. “What do they call the poor unfortunates without such abilities?”
“Dud roots.”
Juliet cracked up. “To be fair to all the dud roots out there, a lot of women do need…other stimulus. I’m just telling you this now in case you ever come across someone immune to your special vagitarian juju.”
Juliet smiled as she said it, but a sharp little stab in the centre of her chest surprised her. It was ridiculous to feel anything about future women who were going to be where she was right now. She was going to be in Italy, for crying out loud. Meeting Italian vagitarians.
Another sharp little stab.
“You mean, like this?” The glide of his right hand up her thigh brought her back to the present. He eased her knee off his shoulder and her foot touched the bed as he freed up his arm. He stroked a finger from her clit through all her slickness to the heat of her entrance and slipped it inside.
Juliet gasped and her belly tensed as her sex clenched tight around the delicious intrusion.
“And this?” Another finger.
“Yes.” She moaned as he pulled out and pushed in again. “Exactly like that.”
His heated gaze locked with hers. “Condom.”
Juliet’s heart rate, not long settled, fired up again as she groped for the condoms. Unable to look away from the feral light in his eyes, she ripped one off the strip from feel alone and passed it to him, her hand shaking.
Sliding his fingers free of her body, he took it and rose, like freaking Poseidon—or whatever rugby god was out there—disentangling himself from her legs, ripping the foil open with his teeth.
The man may have been on his knees, but he dominated the bed. The hair on his chest. The broad, round width of his shoulders. The smooth bunch of his biceps. The very masculine narrowing of his hips and the sling of muscle funnelling to the rise of his thick, hard cock.
So bluntly beautiful. So potently male.
He ruled the room, and her, utterly.
He rolled the condom over the engorged head and down the shaft then grabbed her thighs and yanked until she was fully reclined. Planting a hand on either side of her shoulders, he lowered himself, his eyes fixed on hers as his hips settled and his forearms flattened on the bed, his chest hovering just above hers.
She moaned and shut her eyes as he flexed his pelvis, adjusting their alignment, notching the head of his cock to the wet heat at her centre.
“Like this, Juliet?” His lips were so close to hers they almost touched.
Her eyes fluttered open and her belly rolled over at the intensity in his gaze. He thrust, one quick, decisive jerk of his hips, ripping a cry from her throat. Her nails dug into his upper arms, and she panted for breath. His fingers may have prepared her for his possession, but they had been no match for his cock.
“No.”
She snaked her calf over the top of his, locked her foot around his ankle and pushed on his arms, twisting with her hips, rolling him over, flipping them both until she was dominating him, his cock seated high and hard inside her.
She stared down at him, her chest heaving. “Like this.”
“Fuck.”
He groaned as his hands found her hips, his gaze roaming over her face and the fall of her hair to her bared breasts and farther down to the spot where his body joined hers before drifting back up again to settle on the engorged buds of her nipples.
Juliet yanked the jersey down, reaching for his Akubra and cramming it on her head. She wanted him to remember this night. She wanted him to remember that when he came she was in his team colours and his Akubra.
Just as she was going to.
“God…” His voice was low and rough. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
Juliet smiled, shifted, shut her eyes as she adjusted to his girth, undulating muscles deep inside. He sucked in a breath, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, his fingers sinking into her hip.
“Fuck, that feels good.”
“Oh yeah?” Her eyes opened and she grinned at him as she did it again, gripping his cock tight inside her then releasing.
He shut his eyes this time. “Oh yeah.”
A spark flared to life at the point where her body joined his. The spark caught and they both gasped.
She moved then. Up and down. And around. Taking him in and out of her body in long, slow glides that snatched at her breath and kicked at her chest. The rumble of low insensible noises coming from the back of his throat fanned the spark.
He opened his eyes, his thumb sliding into the slick heat between her legs, finding her clitoris. She moaned and his hips jerked up, thrusting his cock deeper. Juliet gasped as he held himself pressed high and tight, right to the hilt, as far as he could go.
The wild throbbing in her chest spread south, pulsing through her clit and taking up residence deep inside. Her fingers curled into the balls of his shoulders.
He eased his grip then, withdrawing a little, but Juliet wanted more. She wanted it right there, right where he was, right where pleasure met pain, where heat and hardness and pressure became unbearably erotic, where they were so inextricably joined she didn’t know where he ended and she began.
Her hips followed him down, her slick walls refusing to surrender his girth, desperate to keep him inside.
“No.” She panted. “Stay. Right there.”
“Juliet.”
He groaned her name as he pushed to the hilt again and she threw her head back, a triumphant growl falling from her mouth. He pressed the pad of his thumb hard against the engorged nub of her clit, and the bundle of nerves spasmed so violently it rocked her head back in place.
She moved then, just a little, hunching into her grip on his shoulders. He moved with her, also just a little, matching her pace as she concentrated on the internal undulation of her muscles, the high, unrelenting pressure of his cock, and the hard press of his thumb.
Not circling, not moving, just constant, cranking everything tighter and tighter.
It was deep and intense, their eyes shut. A long, slow ride that sizzled heat and electricity along every muscle fibre. That spiralled and twisted through her torso and branched through her lungs like tongues of lightning.
The pleasure built and built. Slow but steady, strong and sure, echoed in the timbre of their breathing, from low and rough to quick and shallow.
Building, building, building.
Then it broke.
His fingers dug into her hips, his eyelids flying open. “Christ.” He gasped for air as he held her firm. “I’m coming.” He groaned. “I need to move.”
“No.” It was more a whimper than a command, her eyes opening, too, as her thighs tightened against his hips, holding him still as her own orgasm took hold. “Like this,” she begged, his thumb still pressed to her as they clutched each other tight. “Like this.”
He cried out, rocking into her slightly, pushing in farther than she thought possible and holding there as he ejaculated, his entire body stiff with the effort to stay still.
Juliet’s body stiffened, too, her pulse a loud, furious beat in her ears, her internal muscles clamping tight around his cock as she came, easing into a rhythmic undulation as her orgasm continued, massaging his length, milking him from root to tip.
They clung to each other, muscles tight, limbs locked, barely moving, their eyes fixed on each other’s, their faces grim masks, panting hard as their orgasms wreaked havoc, the pleasure unbearably internalised.
It ebbed as slowly as it had arrived, lessening in degrees, the tension gradually oozing away until Juliet could no longer hold herself upright and she collapsed against his chest.