The Knocked Up Plan(61)

“Happy doesn’t even cover it.” I step closer, wrap my arms around his neck, bring my lips to his ear, and say please.

He groans, drops his bag, kicks the door shut, and heads to the kitchen to wash his hands.

Bless this man.

After he dries them, he scoops me up in his strong arms. As soon as we reach my bedroom, he sets me down on the bed, cups my cheeks, and stares into my eyes. “You need to know I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

My happiness bucket tips over. “It’s been four months.” There’s wonder in my voice.

He presses his forehead to mine. “Four long, hard months. Wanting you the whole time, too.”

I whimper. Please, may he end the drought this second. I’m not above begging. I have no shame when it comes to the bottomless pit of desire I possess for Ryder Lockhart. “I haven’t been with anyone, either.” I pull back to meet his eyes. “Unless you count my vibrator.”

His lips twitch in a grin.

“But that was only, maybe, fifty times.”

He arches a brow as he fingers the hem of my skirt. It’s loose and flowy. “Fifty isn’t too bad.”

“That was just this week,” I say.

His laugh is deep, and it echoes in my home. It fills my chest. It spreads in me. I want to bottle the sound of his laughter. Play it over and over when I need a pick-me-up. His deep, husky voice is my good drug.

His tongue is, too.

He presses a soft kiss to my lips. As his dust mine, he murmurs, “Missed you. Missed this.”

“Me, too,” I say against his mouth. “So much.”

His kisses are gentle, but full of need. With his hands on my face, his tender touch tells me he’s longed for this. His husky groans say I’m the only one he wants to kiss. When his tongue slides between my lips and I open for him, my kiss says I’m desperate. I need you.

Kiss me harder, take me soon, drive me to the edge.

I moan against his mouth and try to pull him closer, wanting so much more of him. I’m the one who kicks things up another notch until I’m wriggling, panting, dying. It feels like I might die if he doesn’t put his mouth on me everywhere.

“You eager for something, baby?” he asks, toying with my libido in overdrive.

I grab his face, his jaw rough with stubble. “Please. Have mercy on the horny pregnant woman.”

“Define what this mercy entails.”

“Go. Down. On. Me.”

See? I’m not afraid to make demands, either. I’m about to dry hump the air if he doesn’t put me out of my misery.

He scoots me up on my bed, and I sink down on the pillows. He places his big hands on the inside of my thighs, and I quiver. I’m easy. God, I’m so easy right now. It’s possible my panties are already soaked.

“Are you just worked up, or are you worked up for me?”

“Don’t torture me. It’s you, Ryder. It’s you. I need your mouth on me. I need you to go down on me. I need you.”

The noise he makes is the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. Carnal and dirty, it’s a rumble from deep within him. I arch my hips, begging for him to bring his face between my thighs.

He reaches for my panties and removes them in record time. Seriously. That’s just gone down in the record books as the fastest removal of underwear ever, and then . . .

My world is a blur.

A white-hot neon haze.

His lips are on me. His hands spread my legs. His tongue flicks against me. He moans and groans, and murmurs my name in some kind of dirty prayer of lust. My hands grab his head, my fingers slide into his hair.

And I lose myself.

I lose the world. I lose my mind.

This man. His desire. My need. It all smashes together in one radiant moment of erotic bliss. I rock my hips into his face, I curl my hands around his head, I cry and moan and pant, and I fuck him.

I absolutely fuck his face.

But it feels like more than fucking.

It feels like so much more than mere bodies coming together. It feels like he knows me, like I know him, and together we can let go and give in.

That’s what this is.

It’s surrender to everything inside my heart.

As I writhe and moan and thrust and grab, I surrender to how much I need him now, and in my life.

He gives me everything. His tongue strokes me, his lips kiss me, his mouth consumes me.

I’m not a difficult one when it comes to coming. Tonight, I’m a piece of cake. I reach zero to sixty in less than three minutes. Everything in me tightens and tightens, and the pleasure coils.

“Oh God,” I cry out.

The rest is just sounds. Syllables. Incoherent noises of pleasure as I shatter. I break apart into a thousand, million, infinite diamonds of pleasure. “Oh God, oh God, oh God.”

When he stops, I’m still buzzing. Electric pulses sweep over me, the remains of my orgasm. The aftershocks of the earthquake he gave me.

Ryder climbs over me. “I love the way you come. I love making you come. I bet you need another one.”

My eyes widen, and I nod. I’m ravenous, and will take anything he has to give.

He kneels between my legs. He drags a finger across me, tracking a slow, torturous line along my wet, soft, aching center, and my hips shoot up. How the hell can I feel this way again? But I do, oh God, I do.

He thrusts a finger inside me, and I see stars.