New York City want him too.
I rummage around Ryan’s kitchen looking for
coffee. I finally find some Keurig cups on a top shelf. Black
Magic, thank God.
I pop in a pod and listen as the coffee
quickly brews. As I reach up into the cabinet for another cup I
hear Ryan calling my name. His footsteps are heavy against the wood
floor as he walks down the hallway.
“Jesus, Alana,” he runs his hands down his
face when he finds me in the kitchen.
I turn and look at him over my shoulder.
“Think I left?” I giggle. He comes up behind me and wraps his arms
around my waist, wearing only a pair of grey boxer briefs.
“For a second, yeah,” then he kisses my
exposed neck. My hair is pulled up into a bun on top of my
head.
“You look hot in my t-shirt.”
“Thanks, I didn’t think you’d mind if I
borrowed one.”
“You could live in it for all I care,” he
hugs me, still holding me from behind, and then steals a sip of my
coffee.
“Did you sleep okay?” It’s about the only
thing I can think to ask while his body is pressed up against mine;
I can feel every inch of him. Like, every, inch.
“Last night was the best sleep I’ve had in
five years,” he says, and I hide a smile. Is this really
happening?
“What do you want to do today?” he asks. I
pause, staring straight ahead at the white-tiled backsplash. Hmmm,
that answer can have so many possibilities. Taking a deep breath of
resignation, I turn around and look at him. He’s about six inches
taller than I am. His hair is a mess on top of his head, and
there’s just a hint of stubble growing on his chin. His features
are more mature now. But he’s still just as hot as he was five
years ago, maybe even more so.
I think about last night and the decision I
made. If I want Ryan in my life, I’m going to have to let him in,
no matter how terrifying that is. No pain no gain, right?
“I thought we could spend the day getting to
know each other,” my eyes gleam.
Ryan’s jaw drops, immediately catching my
drift.
“I’m cool with that,” his smile is so big I
can’t help but laugh. Without wasting any time, he starts to run
his hands slowly up my hips, as if re-familiarizing himself with my
curves; his touch is every bit sexual as it is sensual, and I have
a feeling this is going to be one hell of a day. My t-shirt catches
over his forearms, riding up as his hands travel over my torso,
over my breasts and around to my back. He doesn’t kiss me though.
He just stares. My whole body springs to life; every nerve, every
cell, every muscle. That’s Ryan’s effect, pure vitality. I place my
hands on his chest, looking down at the little scar on his left
peck. I touch it and he smiles.
“My little piece of you,” he says.
It’s the scar my cigarette left the first
night we met.
I kiss it and he groans. Then he grabs my
hand and yanks me out of the kitchen. I’m in his room, being pushed
onto the bed before I can think. He crawls slowly on top of me,
unhurried, predatory. Then he slides my t-shirt over my head,
exposing me to him. I lay there as he takes his sweet time
exploring my body; stretching every inch into a mile. It’s mind
bending that he can make me feel this aroused, this loved, this
worshiped with only the tips of his fingers. I don’t know how long
he’s at it, but I finally reach the point it feels so good it
starts to hurt. Ryan begins kissing me, and not on the lips or
cheeks or neck, but right where he left off last night, like he can
sense my need for release.
“Don’t stop me Alana,” he implores, his voice
throwing me straight into overdrive. I don’t say no when he pulls
my pink, lacy VS’s off. I close my eyes and tilt my head as he goes
to work, pushing me, building me, teasing me with pressure; finally
breaking me apart like I’m made of glass. I can’t breathe and I see
stars as the orgasm rips right through me.
Holy shit.
As I slowly come back down to earth I find
Ryan lying beside me; his head propped
I rummage around Ryan’s kitchen looking for
coffee. I finally find some Keurig cups on a top shelf. Black
Magic, thank God.
I pop in a pod and listen as the coffee
quickly brews. As I reach up into the cabinet for another cup I
hear Ryan calling my name. His footsteps are heavy against the wood
floor as he walks down the hallway.
“Jesus, Alana,” he runs his hands down his
face when he finds me in the kitchen.
I turn and look at him over my shoulder.
“Think I left?” I giggle. He comes up behind me and wraps his arms
around my waist, wearing only a pair of grey boxer briefs.
“For a second, yeah,” then he kisses my
exposed neck. My hair is pulled up into a bun on top of my
head.
“You look hot in my t-shirt.”
“Thanks, I didn’t think you’d mind if I
borrowed one.”
“You could live in it for all I care,” he
hugs me, still holding me from behind, and then steals a sip of my
coffee.
“Did you sleep okay?” It’s about the only
thing I can think to ask while his body is pressed up against mine;
I can feel every inch of him. Like, every, inch.
“Last night was the best sleep I’ve had in
five years,” he says, and I hide a smile. Is this really
happening?
“What do you want to do today?” he asks. I
pause, staring straight ahead at the white-tiled backsplash. Hmmm,
that answer can have so many possibilities. Taking a deep breath of
resignation, I turn around and look at him. He’s about six inches
taller than I am. His hair is a mess on top of his head, and
there’s just a hint of stubble growing on his chin. His features
are more mature now. But he’s still just as hot as he was five
years ago, maybe even more so.
I think about last night and the decision I
made. If I want Ryan in my life, I’m going to have to let him in,
no matter how terrifying that is. No pain no gain, right?
“I thought we could spend the day getting to
know each other,” my eyes gleam.
Ryan’s jaw drops, immediately catching my
drift.
“I’m cool with that,” his smile is so big I
can’t help but laugh. Without wasting any time, he starts to run
his hands slowly up my hips, as if re-familiarizing himself with my
curves; his touch is every bit sexual as it is sensual, and I have
a feeling this is going to be one hell of a day. My t-shirt catches
over his forearms, riding up as his hands travel over my torso,
over my breasts and around to my back. He doesn’t kiss me though.
He just stares. My whole body springs to life; every nerve, every
cell, every muscle. That’s Ryan’s effect, pure vitality. I place my
hands on his chest, looking down at the little scar on his left
peck. I touch it and he smiles.
“My little piece of you,” he says.
It’s the scar my cigarette left the first
night we met.
I kiss it and he groans. Then he grabs my
hand and yanks me out of the kitchen. I’m in his room, being pushed
onto the bed before I can think. He crawls slowly on top of me,
unhurried, predatory. Then he slides my t-shirt over my head,
exposing me to him. I lay there as he takes his sweet time
exploring my body; stretching every inch into a mile. It’s mind
bending that he can make me feel this aroused, this loved, this
worshiped with only the tips of his fingers. I don’t know how long
he’s at it, but I finally reach the point it feels so good it
starts to hurt. Ryan begins kissing me, and not on the lips or
cheeks or neck, but right where he left off last night, like he can
sense my need for release.
“Don’t stop me Alana,” he implores, his voice
throwing me straight into overdrive. I don’t say no when he pulls
my pink, lacy VS’s off. I close my eyes and tilt my head as he goes
to work, pushing me, building me, teasing me with pressure; finally
breaking me apart like I’m made of glass. I can’t breathe and I see
stars as the orgasm rips right through me.
Holy shit.
As I slowly come back down to earth I find
Ryan lying beside me; his head propped
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