Among the Echoes (Wrecked and Ruined #2.5)(41)

"Okay, stop!" I shout, cutting him off. My eyes are wide, and while absolutely everything he just said sounds amazing, I know myself. Without question, I would shut down on him.

"I thought you liked to talk?" he says with a smirk that I can barely make out in the darkness.

"I’m nervous," I admit, and his smile instantly fades.

"Tell me what to do to make you comfortable."

"Don’t touch me below the waist. I’m sorry. I’m just not there yet," I say, embarrassed. I ready myself for his reaction. I mean, what man wants a woman they can’t touch? But Slate doesn’t say a word. He just stares through the darkness, seemingly lost in thought.

"I’ll give you tonight. But I won’t do this again. You either trust me or you don’t. I want all of you, beautiful. I’ll earn your trust tonight, but tomorrow, there will be no more rules. No more nerves and especially no fears—not in this bed with us. And before you start getting any ideas about retreating again, there will be a tomorrow." He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me in for a gentle yet unapologetic kiss. "Now, do your worst."

His hard body relaxes on his back. His hand roams over my chest but never even begins to travel south. Jesus, he is sexy. I’d give anything to forget it all and just enjoy this moment with Slate, but that’s not the way my life works.

"Can I—" I begin to ask, but he quickly cuts me off.

"See, the difference between us is that I unquestionably trust you. You can do anything you want, beautiful."

Conversation is officially done. I crawl down his body and suck his hard cock into my mouth.

"Fucking hell," he curses while his hands clench the sheets.

I lick and suck Slate over and over until he is on the brink of orgasm. I take it further because I love the way he feels and looks under me. His every muscle ripples with my every upstroke and quakes on the down. Just as I begin to really enjoy myself, he drags me up his body. Shoving a rough hand into my hair, he pulls me down for an uncontrolled kiss.

"Are you wet?" he asks between kisses. I nod against his mouth. "Thank Christ for that." He reaches to the nightstand and pulls out a condom, making quick work of sliding it over his length.

Finally, his hands resume their places on my breasts. He very gently rolls my nipple between his fingers, igniting me unlike ever before. I rock back and find his stiff cock at my entrance. Fuck it. I need this. I push back firmly as he slides inside me with a cuss. The familiar bite of pain threatens to transport me back in time, but Slate grounds me.

"Look at me," he demands, and my eyes immediately flash to his. "I don’t know much about you, but I know something is playing in your head. Let me fix it."

The tears threaten to spill from my eyes. It’s not fair to bring all of my baggage into his bed. I want to forget that it even exists.

"Take me away from it all," I whisper.

A small smile grows across his mouth as he lifts off the mattress, pushing deep inside me. The burn fades, but I’m consumed from the heat left in its path. We both groan as he fills me. Slowly, he begins to thrust in and out of me from the bottom. I fold over him, kissing every inch of his neck and mouth. And for those minutes with him moving inside me, I forget.

He tries to move his hand between us, presumably to rub my clit—a feeling I would pay thousands for—but he stops just inches away.

"God damn it. I want to taste you," he growls.

I push up, using his hard pecs to brace myself. I reach between us and rub my clit, forcing myself perilously close to the edge that Slate is driving me toward.

"I’m sorry," I say as I slide a finger into his mouth. His tongue swirls around, savoring my arousal.

"For f*ck’s sake, don’t tease me with that." He grabs hold of my hips, forcing me down as he thrusts inside me. His movements become frantic. "Come on, beautiful. I want to feel that tight * pulse around me."

Oh yeah, Slate gives really good dirty talk.

With one final push, I do just that. I stop fighting and embrace the high that no one, including myself, has been able to give me in three and a half agonizing years. I lean over on his chest, riding the wave of my orgasm down while he finds his own release inside me.

The inevitable tears spring to my eyes.

"That was really good." I half-laugh, half-cry into his chest.

"Shit. Are you okay?" he asks, and I silently nod, not trusting my voice. "Riley," he growls and sits up taking me with him.

"I didn’t freak out," I barely squeak out.

"What?" He relaxes again, pulling me down tight against his side.

"I always thought I would freak out when I was with a man again. But I didn’t with you."

Slate's eyes flash dark and he swallows hard, yet somehow he manages to be gentle as he says, "Why would you freak out, beautiful?"

"It doesn’t matter why. It only matters that you made me comfortable enough to forget it."

"Son of a bitch," he mumbles, pressing a soft kiss to my mouth.

I go willingly into his arms, squeezing as close as possible while trying to stop the tears of relief and happiness that are openly flowing from my eyes.

"Riley, I’ll never ask, but one day, you are going to have to tell me."

I don’t respond because I have nothing to say. I can’t tell Slate—ever. I just curl in even closer, lying with my body instead of my voice.