Never Standing Still (The Never Duet #1)(49)

His eyes flitted down to my sex, and I watched as he lined himself up with my opening. When his eyes found me again, they stayed on mine as he slowly pushed into me, inch by inch, until he was so deep I thought he’d found a way to bore into my heart. Once he was all the way in, filling me, stretching me, I let out a sound that was half moan, half sigh, and my head fell back with pleasure.

“Holy f*ck, Kalli. You’re perfect. It’s perfect. So f*cking sweet.” His head was shaking back and forth, as if he didn’t even believe the words himself, couldn’t wrap his mind around the way it felt. But it was perfect. I’d never felt so right with someone before, and all he’d done was enter me. All we were, in that moment, was a connection. But it was perfect.

After a few blissful moments of just feeling each other, he slowly pulled out, all the way to the tip, then slid back in, groaning the whole way. “I knew it would be good, Kal. I knew it would be amazing. But I never thought it would feel this way.” He continued to pump in and out, slowly building up speed and tempo.

All I could do was grip him, pulling him closer to me, hoping that at the end of everything I would still be whole and the totality of me would still be intact.

Riot might have been the most present lover I’d ever had. He was constantly talking, checking in, and whispering things to me, at me. I couldn’t always respond because, well, Riot. But his words never ceased to affect me.

“God, it’s good,” he rasped.

“Do you feel how perfectly I fit inside of you?” he groaned into my neck.

“You’re everything,” he whispered against my lips just before kissing me.

He pushed me higher and higher, using my body to get the most perfect fit he could find, listening to my body and its reactions, handling me, molding me to him.

It was when he turned me onto my side at the hips, both legs together and pressed into the mattress, with his hands pinning my shoulders down, as he thrust quickly into me, that I found my release. And while usually I felt my orgasms from the waist down, this one gripped me in my chest and shot outward, causing my back to arch off the bed and a loud moan to rip from me.

“Shit,” he groaned, taking long strokes through me. “I’ll never get this image out of my head. I’ll never be able to forget what you feel like, wrapped around me, squeezing me as you come.”

His words did nothing to help calm me, but I didn’t have time to think about that because suddenly he pulled out, grabbed my hips, and flipped me so my stomach was on the bed. Then he lifted my hips and my knees naturally found their footing under me. In no time at all he was back inside me, gliding in and out, hitting new spots, and I found myself on that familiar climb again, my core tightening around him.

Then I felt his front against me, and his arms wrapped around my shoulders as he pulled me up to him so that we were both kneeling on the bed. My back was up against his front, and his hands snaked around my body, one coming to rest over my breast, the other finding my clit, and his mouth was at my ear. Every single sense was overwhelmed. I could only hear his breath and his words and he pumped his hips up, thrusting forcefully into me. My skin was hyperaware of his, where we touched, when his skin moved against mine. Each nerve ending was in shock and begging for reprieve, but it felt too good to stop. The musky scent of us swirled around me and my eyes watched his hand furiously rub against my clit, asking me to come again. When I licked my lips the tang of salt was there.

“I’m going to come again,” I managed, the buildup too intense.

“I know,” was his response, and it drove me that much closer to the edge. “I’m going to come with you this time.”

I groaned, both at his words and the images they conjured up in my mind, but also at his hard, thick cock stroking in and out of me at such a bruising pace. It was glorious. My hands reached back and fought to hold on to anything I could grasp; his shoulder, his hip, I was trying to stay grounded in him. I was moaning continually, my cries punctuated by his thrusts, and I was inching closer and closer until finally I felt the heat ignite in my core and every muscle seize up.

“I’m coming,” I cried, although I wasn’t sure my words were audible; it was very possible I hadn’t said anything at all, or that I was mumbling incoherently. All I knew was I was on the precipice and he was dragging me over.

“Fuck.” Riot’s voice carried throughout the bedroom as he groaned and growled, pumping into me as my orgasm flashed through me, reaching every last part of my body. I knew he’d finished coming when his hips stopped pumping and his voice had quieted, and it was all I could do to reach out and press my hands against the wall behind the headboard to keep myself from falling forward and breaking our connection; I wasn’t ready for that yet.

His hands moved slowly all over my body: around my hips, up my back, over my shoulders. He shuddered, then slid out of me, sinking to the bed and pulling me backward on to his lap. I was limp and lifeless, still not fully in control, my hands reaching for support from the wall, his lips moving kisses up my spine.

“I can’t wait to do that again,” he said against the skin of my back.

It was all I could do to laugh and collapse on the bed. He followed me, landing on his back, removing the condom, then tying it off and dropping it to the floor.

“I don’t know if that’s possible,” I said, but it sounded more like a sigh. His arm pulled me to him, spooning me against his sweat-slicked body. Usually, at that juncture, I’d pick up my clothes, get dressed and make excuses as to why I had to leave. I’d lied about meetings, having to work early, girlfriends having emergencies; you name it, I’d lied about it. All to avoid what was happening in that moment with Riot. Intimacy. Closeness. Emotions. Permanence. I’d avoided those at all costs before, but right then, in his arms, I wouldn’t have left for anything. I wanted nothing more than to lie in that bed and soak him in. I wanted to let his arms fall around me, hold me close, and snuggle in. Spend a night asleep in his arms. Spend a morning making love again, and in the sunlight, too. “I’m not sure that’s something we can recreate.” I sounded more wistful than I intended and inwardly cringed at the sappiness of my words.