The Knocked Up Plan(35)

“Oh God, it’s so good,” I cry out.

He murmurs against me, “Want you to come.”

The man is obsessed with my pleasure. It’s his drug, his addiction, and I want to give him his fix.

I want the fix, too.

I yank him harder between my legs. I’m rewarded with a throaty groan as he buries his face between my thighs, devouring me with his mouth, his tongue, his lips, his long, strong fingers.

Those fingers. They reach a spot inside me that turns me into a shaking, trembling, shattering hot mess.

“I’m coming,” I cry out, and then I don’t stop saying it. I can’t stop. Because I can’t stop coming. It hits me in violent waves, a magnificent storm of pleasure that sends me writhing, twisting against his mouth.

Until I’m panting and can’t move anymore.

Maybe I can’t, but seconds later, he rises, grabs my hips, and flips me. My feet are jelly on the floor. But he’s got me, holding me tight. He bends me over the bed, his big hand pressing between my shoulder blades. He flattens my back, turning me into an L. He hikes up my hips, raising me, and he pushes inside.

I don’t know that I will ever get over how good it feels when he first takes me. When he fills me. When he rocks into me. It’s an explosion of pleasure.

My name sounds rough and gritty on his lips as he grunts Nicole. “It’s so fucking good. Fucking you is so fucking good,” he rasps.

I am a rag doll beneath him. My body sizzles. Electric sparks spread over my skin with every thrust, every drive.

“So deep in you,” he rasps. “That’s what you want, baby?”

“Yes. God, yes.” My fingers curl tightly into his sheets, gripping them.

He pulls back then slams into me, and I howl. I’m an animal. I’m wild and hungry. He dips his hand between my legs. His finger slides over my clit, and with one touch I’m about to explode. I’m so damn close to the edge that when he drives into me once more, I shatter.

I break apart into diamonds, into starlight, into the whole damn night sky. I yell his name. God’s name. I shout incoherent words.

And I’m not the only one.

His noises. His sounds. His breath. He’s so close, and the prospect thrills me. He’s groaning and fucking me so hard and so deep that I know, I just know, this has to be it. He shudders, his fingers digging hard into my hips as he comes.

My mind is awash with mad hope. With a crazy faith that his passion tonight did the trick. That he just gave me my heart’s desire.

When he pulls out, he tugs me up on his bed and wraps his arms around me. “I think we did it,” he murmurs in my ear, and my heart beats harder. I love that he believes the same thing about how we just came together.

I grin as I wriggle back against him. “Me, too.” I am a happy, dopey, woozy woman.

“Oh shit,” he says, sitting up straight.

“What’s wrong?”

He grabs a pillow, pats the bed, and instructs me to lift my butt. I raise my rear, and he slides the pillow under me.

It’s the most endearing thing, the way he always remembers. Part of me wants to keep that thought to myself because it feels so couple-y, and I know we shouldn’t even pretend we’re that. But I want him to know how it makes me feel. “Hey, Ryder,” I say, looping a hand in his hair. “You’re really sweet about this whole thing.”

He narrows his eyes and huffs. “I’m not sweet.”

I push his chest. “You’re so sweet, and you don’t even want to admit it.”

“I’m just helpful.”

“Hate to break it to you, but being helpful is sweet.”

He laughs then levels me with an intense stare. “It’s helpful when I put my sperm in you, isn’t it?”

“Helpful and so, so sweet,” I say, playfully.

I sigh as I run my hand over my belly, imagining. It’s an astonishing thought that someday soon I might feel a bump. I want that so badly—to be in my own bed at night, my palm spread over my basketball, feeling the life inside me. I want to know what that’s like. So much hope bubbles inside me I have a surplus. I could bottle this hope, sell it, and still have enough. I turn to look at Ryder. He’s propped on his side, his head in his hand, his fingers tracing my hip. His firm, strong body is naked and sheened with sweat. He’s gorgeous, and I could stare at him all night. “Do you really think it worked?” I ask.

“I do.”

“Did you ever think you’d be doing this with your colleague?”

He cracks up. “Hell, no. I thought I’d be . . .”

“You thought you’d still be with . . .” I let my voice trail off, too. For some reason, it makes me sad that he was so connected to someone else.

“Yeah, but that’s not something I think about anymore.”

“Do you miss her?” I ask, my muscles tightening with the wish for a no.

He shakes his head and drags a hand through his hair. “Nope.”

I relax. “Does she ever try to get in touch with you?”

“She did, but not recently.”

“Are you glad it ended?”

He draws a deep breath. He’s never told me in detail, but I was able to figure out she cheated on him from things he’s said. “I’m glad it ended when it did. Before I was in even deeper. Before we had kids.”