Authors: Kennedy Layne
Ryland stepped into her and cradled her neck with his palm, using his thumb to tilt her face up to his. He claimed her with a passion that took both of them by surprise, but he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t until he was seated deep inside of her and she was crying out his name…which one he didn’t care in the least. He wrapped an arm around her waist and hoisted her up so that her legs swathed his waist. He didn’t want to waste time walking up the stairs to one of the bedrooms, but the main bedroom on the ground floor was off limits. Fallon had informed him of that on the way here and he was curious as to why, but the door had been locked. That wouldn’t keep him out, but he could wait for a private moment when she was otherwise occupied. That wasn’t important now.
“You…you’re impossible,” Ryland murmured against Fallon’s lips as he walked them over to the couch. By the time he sat down, she’d unbuttoned his shirt and had it off of his shoulders. It didn’t take much effort to remove it while she straddled him and took the pencil out of her hair, tossing it across the room onto the floor. Her blue eyes were devouring him and he would have sworn he felt physical pain when she placed her hands lightly on his chest. She thought she was touching someone else. “Stop.”
Fallon’s hands stilled, but the contact with her warm skin practically seared his flesh. Ryland swallowed, even though his throat had all but closed. These unfamiliar feelings were something he wasn’t ready to deal with, so he did the only thing he could. He stared into her beautiful face, counted to ten…and finally took control.
“You mentioned before that I don’t scare you. You consider me a man of my word,” Ryland reminded her softly, emotions shifting inside of him and righting themselves. It was as if he’d taken a shot of his favorite whiskey and he felt that familiar warming sensation that was only about to get better. He deliberately took his time lifting the long sleeved shirt she was wearing, pulling it over her head and then using the sleeves to keep her arms behind her. “I promise you that I will never hurt you, Fallon. Right now, I can’t have you touch me.”
Ryland was well aware that Fallon knew of the lifestyle that most of the CSA team members engaged in. Jax Christensen, along with Connor Ortega, owned a kink club in downtown Minneapolis called Masters. It wasn’t a far stretch to assume that Fallon had engaged in the lifestyle, at least privately on the edges, during her brief affair with Ethan Chambers before his marriage to Taryn.
“I’m not one for clubs, nor am I your typical dominant male. It’s simple,” Ryland stated, securing her wrists with her own shirt while hearing the slight catch in her breath. He smiled, his cock stirring at witnessing the arousal written across her features. “You say no, I stop, and nothing else happens.”
Fallon’s knees tightened on his outer thighs, but she hadn’t agreed to what he needed yet. Ryland could still feel the imprint of where her warm fingers had traced his skin. It bothered him that she thought she was touching a man he could never be, because the damage done to Travis had been too severe to ever revive him. It didn’t truly matter what happened from this point on.
Fallon wasn’t wearing a bra and Ryland purposefully dropped his gaze to her perfect breasts. Her peaked nipples gave ample notice of the fact that they needed to be touched, but he wouldn’t until he had her verbal consent. He ran his index finger ever so softly down her cleavage, mesmerized by the rate her chest was rising and falling. Her nipples hardened even more and goose bumps covered her flesh. Never had a woman responded this way to just a simple touch of his index finger.
“What’s it going to be, Fallon?” Ryland asked, stroking the underside of her right breast. Did she just hum in satisfaction? “Yes…or no?”
“Yes, please.”
Ryland pulled his hand back, dragging his gaze back up to hers. The color of her eyes matched that of the blue flames dancing in the fireplace behind her. She confused him and he strived to decipher what made her so different from anyone else he’d ever met. He also wondered how much physical pleasure she could take without begging him to take her. It was the second mystery he’d be able to solve this evening.
“Stand.” Ryland waited patiently for Fallon to do as he’d instructed, regardless that he wanted nothing more than to lay her down on this rug and fuck her until they were both sated. This moment was to be savored, because he wasn’t sure he’d be here come morning. “I want you bare.”
“And you?” Fallon regarded him questionably while Ryland removed the rest of her clothing. She stood in front of him with pride, which made her even more sexually pleasing. There was nothing like a self-confident woman. “I won’t stand here and ask why you feel uncomfortable with me touching you. I don’t need my psychiatry degree for that, but that doesn’t mean I should be shortchanged.”
A cry escaped Fallon’s lips when Ryland lifted her so that she was in the exact same position she’d been previously—her hands still tied behind her back while she straddled his lap. He made sure that she was well spread, open to his touch. He didn’t immediately caress her skin, but instead let his eyes do that for him. Her long blonde hair was draped down her back, accentuating the toned muscles on the side of her neck. She kept herself in shape and yet she was able to maintain her feminism that was downright sensual.
“Trust me, my little savior, you won’t be shortchanged by anyone’s measure.” Ryland stroked a finger over her shoulder and the slowly down her arm until he reached the fabric of her shirt. He then ran the back of his hand across her tight abdomen, fascinated by the ripples of arousal that moved through her. “Let’s just say that I know my limitations and keeping something in between us at this moment reminds me that I want to pleasure you with my touch first.”
Ryland didn’t care for the knowing look in Fallon’s flaming blue eyes. She saw too much and it made him want to immediately eliminate the threat she posed to him. Some would have taken that to mean his profession, but he intended it in a totally different manner. He traced her nipple with his thumb, enjoying the low noise that emanated from her throat. She’d be too preoccupied with his fingers to worry about his state of mind.
“Let me be a little more frank—I want to see just how much pleasure you can take before you’re begging me to fuck you hard.”
O
verwhelming pleasure shot through Fallon like a bullet being fired from her weapon at the Quantico range during qualifications. His round also exploded on contact, sending shards of excitement through every nerve her body possessed. She grabbed the soft fabric of her blouse with her fingers for something material to hold onto, not willing to give in and beg Ryland for that which he’d eventually give her in the end.
Fallon had dabbled in the lifestyle that Ethan led, enjoying their time together as a dalliance. It had been nothing more than a brief fling and one that she didn’t regret in the least. Ethan was a nice man with many things to offer a woman, but it was Taryn who made him complete and Fallon wished them nothing but the best. There were no hard feelings between the two of them, although she had broken things off over the phone. Contrary to her normal practice of confronting these types of interpersonal relationship issues in person, it hadn’t been ideal, but they did live in two separate states that made it hard to communicate. She’d never personally visited Masters, the club Ryland had mentioned, preferring to keep her sexual activities private. Did she like to experiment? Absolutely.
“I won’t break,” Fallon whispered, looking down at where he was barely touching her. This was a game to him. He wanted to see how much pleasure she could take? He didn’t want her touching him and it briefly crossed her mind the reason why. He wasn’t sure who she was touching either and he was doing his best to put emotional distance between them. She should have stopped it then and there. She couldn’t though, for several reasons. This could be the very thing that kept him here while figuring out his past and while she knew that was wrong…she’d come too far to stop and then there were those other causes—her own personal selfish desires and needs. “I’m not made of glass.”
“Hmmm,” Ryland hummed in acknowledgement of what she was trying to do. Fallon closed her eyes in an attempt to stem the overwhelming stimulation he was giving her body by the mere stroke of his finger. Her nipples literally ached for more pressure, but his touch was light. Much too light. “You know me from all the time you’ve spent researching my ancient history. Do you think I’d capitulate to that kind of spur? Darling, there is no sanctuary for you now. I have you at last.”
Fallon leaned her head back, biting her lip to keep from replying and causing him to go even slower. There wasn’t a part of the front side of her body that he didn’t caress from her breasts to her abdomen to her thighs. Her legs were trembling even though she was on her knees and resting her weight on his legs. They were spread wide, keeping her open…wanting, longing, craving for more of his touch. She was well acquainted with the saying “be careful what you wish for”. Fallon couldn’t prevent the moan that escaped when he ever so lightly ran one finger through her folds.
“I like that you’re wet for me,” Ryland murmured, the vibrations of his bass voice only adding to her overall desire. “Look at me. Look me in the eye.”
That spike of arousal that hit deep in a woman’s stomach at such a commanding directive hit fast. Fallon brought her head back down, slowly lifting her lashes to see Ryland’s dark eyes practically appear like molten lava bubbling in the pit. The parallels weren’t lost on her for he could very well be the devil. The tying of her hands hadn’t bothered her too much before, but now she was keenly aware that she couldn’t touch him. Her palms itched to feel his smooth skin, but even that sensation appeared to modify itself into a sensual awakening.
“Blue pools of flames,” Ryland said softly, describing the color of her eyes. It was an accurate description considering her entire being felt as if it were on fire. He hadn’t touched her clit, which now contained a deep throbbing awareness. He watched her closely as he slid one finger inside of her. It wasn’t nearly enough. “Do you want me, Fallon?”
“Yes,” Fallon whispered, not going to deny what they both needed. This had been a long time in coming and she coveted more than just his finger. “So stop playing around and get down to it.”
Ryland’s soft laughter was like honey being poured over her and she held her breath when he leisurely withdrew his finger, only to slide it back in. He continued to do this for…it could have been one minute or it could have been a half an hour. All she knew was that she was dripping wet and the empty ache had only gotten worse. She needed to do something.
“No,” Ryland stated, pulling back when Fallon tried to lean forward and kiss him. He wrapped his free hand around her throat, but not in a truly threatening manner. He slowly drifted it down toward her left breast, capturing her swollen flesh. He held it so that he was able to take her nipple in between his index finger and thumb. She tensed slightly, expected him to pinch the peak. Instead, he ever so lightly rolled the hardened nub until she couldn’t breathe. “I want to hear you beg first.”
“Then you haven’t been paying attention,” Fallon exhaled, arching her back in an attempt to gain more friction from his fingers. She rotated her hips forward when nothing worked, once again yielding naught. Her skin was now coated in a light perspiration. “I want you.”
Fallon almost allowed the name Ryland to slip from her lips, but she caught herself just in time. She wanted Travis instead.
“That’s not quite enough.”
Ryland continued to play with her in the gentlest way until Fallon was one exposed nerve. His lone finger thrusting slowly inside of her pussy wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy the intense ache that had settled inside of her. The brush of his fingers circling her sensitive nipple only made her crave more pressure. This was a type of torture that he was confident she would bend to and she would, but what more could she say?
“Ah!” Fallon cried when Ryland finally chose to withdraw his finger and place it ever so softly on her clit. Endless circles. He was drawing circles over the exposed bundle of nerves and she tried to close her legs. He had her in a position where she couldn’t. “Stop enticing me. I told you multiple times that I want you.”