Among the Echoes (Wrecked and Ruined #2.5)(40)

"Door shut. Overhead off. Lamp on," he counters while carrying me toward the bedroom.

"This is not a negotiation." I drag off my own shirt.

He doesn’t say another word, but the grumble in his chest makes it quite apparent that he’s not pleased. He’ll have to get over it though because in all the stories Dave and I have memorized, we have never once discussed what I would tell someone about my scars. I’m bad at telling the lies we have practiced a million times. I can’t even image how I would explain away the raised scars up each thigh and over my sex. And I have no plans of letting Slate see them tonight. Having sex with a man for the first time in three and a half years is big enough for tonight. I’ll figure out the rest later.

As he places me onto the bed, he follows me down, devouring my mouth in a scorching kiss. I lift my hips off the bed, desperate for contact or, at the very least, friction. Slate props himself up on one arm and the other dives between my legs, still safely covered by my jeans.

"I’m going to lick this * tonight, beautiful," he growls, and my eyes immediately fly open. It’s a shame I can’t let him because I instantly go wet at just the idea.

"No, you’re not, but tell me what you would do," I ask, and he looks up, surprised but barely managing to tear his eyes away from my core grinding into his hand. I can’t experience it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy his ideas.

He blinks for a few seconds, seemingly unsure of what to make of my rejection and even more confused by my request. I reach forward and drag my nails up his rippled abs, moaning when he increases the pressure of his hand.

"Tell me."

He clears his throat and stands all the way up. I’m lying on my back across the bed and he’s standing against the corner. One of his hands is playing between my legs, pressing the seam of my jeans against my clit like his own personal sex toy. But what really drenches me is when he uses his other hand to stroke his very promising cock through his own jeans.

"I’d start by taking off these f*cking pants, but not your panties. Beautiful, I bet you’ve soaked completely through them right now, huh?" he asks, and he definitely isn’t wrong. I nod my head, urging him to continue. "I want to feel that on my hand. The wet cotton sliding against your * as you ride my hand. I could feel your lips, and it would drive me out of my mind. I wouldn’t be able to stop my fingers from sliding your panties aside and pushing inside you." He lets out a moan and leans down, tugging my nipple out of the top of my bra and sucking it into his mouth. My back arches off the bed as he continues talking against my breast. "I bet your *’s so tight. I’d start with just one finger, pushing deep to get you primed. What do you think? Should I add another finger?" He pauses both his hand and mouth.

Holy shit! Slate gives good dirty talk.

I groan and begin to grind against him. I’m desperate for him to continue. This phone-sex-meets-dry-humping thing we have going on right now might just be the hottest sex I’ve ever experienced.

"No more fingers. Get to the part with your mouth," I say wantonly, surprising even my own ears.

"Is someone eager?" he asks with a slight chuckle and a huge, knowing smile. "I’ve got a better idea. Let me show you." He reaches down, unbuttoning my pants.

I cover his hands to still them. "Please just tell me," I whisper.

"Beautiful, if this is some sort of foreplay for you, then I am all too willing to give it. I’ll tell you absolutely everything I’ve dreamed about doing to that sexy little body of yours, and trust me, I’ve thought about it a lot. But if you think for one second this is all that’s happening tonight, you’ve lost your damn mind. I won’t let you talk yourself out of this. You want me. I know you do."

I absolutely do.

I immediately sit up and strip open his jeans. I might be afraid of a lot of things, but being with a man on my terms is not one of them. It’s just that, up until now, I’ve never trusted someone to let me have my own terms. I’m not scared of Slate. I never was, even when he was just Adam. I boldly reach into his pants, only stopping when my hand meets hard flesh. It seems everything about Slate is huge, his cock being no different.

"Fuck, Riley."

"Don’t call me that," I say, sliding his hard cock through my hand.

"I think you need to get naked." He reaches down again, but I stop him by moving across the bed.

I immediately miss his touch. "Tell me. You didn’t finish telling me." I drop my legs open, inviting him to join me on the bed. He doesn’t waste a single second before his hand is back between my legs.

"Damn it, beautiful. The first time I make you come, it’s not going to be through denim." He begrudgingly flips off the lamp next to the bed. "There. The lights are off."

I smile to myself and shimmy out of my jeans. He was right—my panties are soaked. Slate quickly follows suit and pushes his own pants to the floor. His cock slides against me as he crawls up the bed. He leans over and gently kisses my mouth. I can tell that he’s restraining himself, but it doesn’t take long before he loses it.

"You have to take control of this, beautiful. What I want to do to you right now is not something you could handle."

"You don’t know what I can handle."

"Okay, how about this? I want to strip you naked and drill into your tight * until we are both sated and numb. I want to cover you completely, to touch every part of your body. I want your chest pressed against mine while you writhe under me. And it’s going to be rough because I won’t be able to control myself when I get inside you. I want to f*ck you until—"