Echo (Bleeding Hearts #1)(73)

“Of course you’d like this,” I teased, gliding the cloth up and down his arm.

“I like any time you touch me of your own free will,” he confessed.

Though he hadn’t intended to, his words returned the darkness of our situation to the room. The ever-present reminder of how all of this had started. The painful chasm that still divided us.

I ignored it and my mixed up feelings as I ran the cloth up and down his legs. His cock started to jerk against his belly, swollen and eager to be touched.

He shuddered as I ran the cloth over that part of him, cleaning him quickly and without finesse. It was difficult to pull away, but I managed, placing the cloth back into the bucket. I moved to stand, but Ryland grasped my arm.

“Don’t stop,” he pleaded. “I need you, baby girl.”

“Ryland, we can’t,” I protested. “You need to rest.”

“I need to be inside of you,” he insisted. “God, it’s been so long. I’ve missed you so much. I need to feel you again. Please.”

I knew I shouldn’t. He needed to relax and let himself heal. But in my mind, I was as desperate as him for that connection. The one place we’d never had any problems. The one way we could communicate our feelings without words.

So, throwing caution to the wind, I positioned myself between his legs and kneeled down to suck him into my mouth.

He hissed the moment my lips enveloped him and tried to buck his hips up to greet me.

“We do this my way,” I warned him. “Or not at all. I’m in control here, Ryland, not you.”

His eyes flared, but he didn’t say a word of protest as he watched me take him back into my mouth. I could tell it was difficult for him, but he let me have control.

He wound his fingers through my hair and groaned, his cock swelling even more as I sucked him deeper.

“Please, Brighton,” he begged. “I need to be inside of you.”

I pulled away and tugged off my shorts and panties, discarding them on the floor before I straddled his hips again. His hands pushed down the material of my cami, seeking out my breasts.

I was soaking wet for him already, and I glided him inside of me without resistance. He made another strangled noise in his throat as his hands fell to my hips.

“Oh f*ck,” he groaned as I began to move. “You can’t ever take this away from me again.”

He devoured me with his eyes, his frustration warring with awe as I took charge. I rolled my hips around in circles and bobbed up and down on his shaft, giving him what he so desperately needed.

“Play with yourself,” he rasped. “I want to watch you.”

I did as he requested, not feeling the slightest bit shy. We were far past that at this point. Whatever this man asked of me, I would do. It was a dangerous power he held.

I reached up and cupped one of my breasts while the other hand toyed with my clit. All of my frustration and anger and pain from the last few days combined to a boiling point of pressure inside of me. When I finally blew, the waves of pleasure seemed to roll on forever. It was the most cathartic release I’d ever had.

Ryland’s breath was ragged and his eyes wild as I increased my pace fractionally to drive him over the edge.

“So hot,” he grunted. “So f*cking beautiful, baby girl. Oh, God.”

His release barreled into me, bathing me with warmth as his breath stuttered in his chest. He started to cough, and I gave him a panicked look, but he shook his head as I climbed off of him.

“Was it worth it?” I scolded.

He smiled and nestled me against his arm, kissing me softly on the forehead.

“It always is with you.”





Chapter Thirty



It took Ryland all of one week before he declared he was ready to go back to work. Any sane person would have tried to reason with him, but I knew there was no reasoning with him when he was this way.

It was a side of him I hadn’t ever seen before. He was on edge and going stir-crazy locked up in his apartment. He’d been trying to conduct business from his laptop and cell phone all week, and all of his employees were bearing the brunt of his frustration.

I’d made myself scarce and let him do what he needed to do while I locked myself away in the sewing room. I’d thrown myself into random projects here and there before I felt restless myself. But then I spotted some rolls of tulle, and the wheels in my brain started to spin.

I flipped through patterns and designs as I sought out inspiration. And then it hit me. Like a mack truck.

I don’t know what inspired me to think this was a good idea, but I couldn’t stop myself. I started with one skirt, then I kind of went crazy. Now I had about ten variations, along with a handful of leotards. They were unique with fun patterns and designs, and I had no idea what I would do with them. But for the first time in a long time, I was proud of something I had accomplished.

Until Ryland opened the door and a surge of guilt flooded through me. I didn’t want him to see. I didn’t know how he would handle it. So I rushed up to him and helped him adjust his tie while he tried to look around the room.

“What are you working on in here?” he eyed me suspiciously.

“It’s not finished yet.” I tugged his hand and pulled him from the room. “And besides, it’s a mess in there, you’d hate it.”