Mountain Challenge (Mont Blanc Rescue #9)

Chapter 23

23

Ry

“ Y ou taste so fucking sweet,” Ry said from between her legs.

A small groan tore from Isla’s throat. “I thought … I thought you said you wanted dessert.” Her fingers tangled in his hair, tightening as his tongue came out to lick at her clit.

“This is dessert. The sweetest, most delicious dessert in the world,” he said, punctuating each word with a lick that started at her clit and moved all the way down her slit. Then there was no more talking, as his tongue found its way inside her. Isla tensed, pleasure building. God. He was going to kill her.

“Please,” she begged. “I need to come.”

“Not yet, baby,” he said, once again going back to those soft licks. Ry pulled at her shaking knees, making space for his wide shoulders, giving himself better access.

“Fuck me. Please.”

“I plan to fuck you,” Ry said. “I’m going to fuck you so long and so hard, you’re going to remember me all day and all night.” He pushed one thick finger inside her, slowly. So slowly. “But not yet. Not until you tell me how badly you need it.”

Isla lost her words. She lost language, directly, and moaned, instead. Ry must have liked that, because that thick finger started moving inside her. Then a second finger pushed in, joining the first. And they felt so good and slick and delicious, but not as good as his cock would when he filled her. So she had to find the words.

“Inside me …”

“I am inside you, baby. You feel so tight around my fingers.”

Isla’s hips shot forward, looking for more pressure, more movement. More . Because she couldn’t come unless he moved .

Ry’s mouth came right against her ear. “I’ve got a condom on already,” he said. “But I’m not going to make love to you until you come all over my fingers.”

Though she would never admit it, it was the word love that made her orgasm. Or at least, she happened to come at that exact instant, her internal walls contracting around his fingers. And still his fingers speared her, dragging on her pleasure, her orgasm going on and on. When at last his fingers left her, she felt empty—so empty—emptier than she’d ever felt before. Then his cock was at her entrance. Full and thick—so much thicker than his fingers. He pushed forward, through her orgasm, and it was the brightest, best feeling in the world.

Eventually, she lay back, spent.

Oh. My. God.

Ry had the decency to hold himself very still inside her. “Good?” he asked.

“I’m … so much.”

“You are so much,” he agreed, kissing her face.

“ That was so much,” she said.

“You ready for more?” His hips flexed lightly. He was still smiling, but she could feel the tension in his muscles. So she did the only thing she could. She purposefully flexed her internal muscles, causing him to groan.

“You’re going to kill me.” His head went down to her breast. “If I die, I want to die with my mouth around this perfect nipple.” He changed sides—suckling gently, so careful with the metal bar going through her nipple. “Or this one.”

Pleasure awoke inside her again. She felt full in the best of ways. Full, ready, her clit already engorged from her recent orgasm. It wouldn’t take much to push her right over the edge again. Except Ry wasn’t in any rush. He pumped his hips gently, finding a rhythm that managed to press deliciously inside her on the in stroke, then graze her clit on the out stroke.

“I’m going to come again,” she managed. Words had come back, at least. That was something.

Ry’s smile was tight this time. “I want to watch you as you come, baby.”

“I’m going to need … more,” she said. Okay, so she might have some words, but clearly not many. Not enough to explain what she needed. Thankfully, Ry seemed to know.

He raised her legs up to his shoulders—a position that pulled him deeper inside her with every stroke, deeper than he’d ever been before. He kept up that maddeningly slow, sexy rhythm, but every time his cock hit deep inside her, his finger reached down between them, rubbing her clit.

She could see from the tight line of his mouth that he was holding on by a thread. And Isla wanted to hold off for a bit longer, because the combination of those two types of touch was the best of all worlds, and the orgasm was rushing towards her like a bulldozer ball. When it hit, it ripped through her, an explosion of light and color.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Ry pumped into her hard—once, twice—then groaned as his own orgasm hit, his strong arms holding on to her for dear life. Eventually, he released her legs. Eyes closed, she felt him rustle with something—the condom, she imagined—then pull up the duvet around her. As his big body curled around her, a thought struck her.

“Your shoulder,” she panted. “Did I hurt you?” She should have thought of it earlier.

“It’s good. If anything, you helped loosen my muscles.”

“I did, huh? Think I’d make a good physical therapist?” she whispered.

“Not sure we’d ever get to the therapy part,” he laughed. He kissed the back of her neck, her head. Tears welled up in her eyes at how good his touch felt. Before, she could have justified it to herself as sexual need. But lying here now, warm and sated, it was impossible to kid herself that this closeness wasn’t more. But that thought, which just a few weeks earlier would have scared her to death, caused her no malaise.