Crash Into Me (15 page)

There was a roaring in her head, a fuzziness that overtook her as a freight train
of pleasure slammed through her body. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced
and it left her with no choice but to hang on for the ride.

Her body convulsed again and again, wave after wave of ecstasy shooting through her,
sizzling along her nerve endings, lighting her up like the pyrotechnic display Shaken
Dirty used to close every concert. And then she was flying, soaring, dissolving into
the endless night sky.

She came back to earth slowly, shocked at the heights she’d scaled. Uncertain about
the amount and degree of pleasure Ryder had shown her. She wasn’t a virgin, had slept
with a couple men in committed relationships before. But nothing they’d shown her,
nothing she’d ever experienced, could have prepared her for these moments with Ryder.
No wonder the groupies always seemed so desperate to find their way into his bed.

The thought chilled her, had her withdrawing into herself. But Ryder wasn’t putting
up with that. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly against him as
he kissed his way across her bare stomach.

“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he told her.

She stirred against him, unsure of what to say, what to do on the heels of what was
supposed to be her first casual sexual encounter ever. Too bad that it felt anything
but.

He stopped kissing her abruptly, tilted his head up until those gorgeous onyx eyes
of his blazed into her own. “Jamison?” he asked, his voice still husky with desire.
“Are you okay?”

And just that easily, she relaxed. Hearing him say her name, knowing she was more
to him than some nameless, faceless body soothed her as nothing else could have.

“More than okay,” she teased, dancing her fingers over the bare skin of his chest
to play with his nipple ring. She wanted to touch him, to explore every inch of his
sexy, gorgeous body before he walked away. Before the chance was lost to her forever.
“When do I get to touch?” she asked.

“After I’ve gotten my fill.” His fingers went to the waistband of her shorts, started
to unbutton them.

“You haven’t yet?” she asked as he shimmied her shorts over her hips and let them
fall to the ground. Then she lost the ability to talk as he kissed his way over her
abdomen to the top of her lacy bikini panties.

“Not even close.” He ran a finger under the lace, teased the curls at the apex of
her thighs. “Open your legs.”

She obeyed instantly, the commanding note in his voice sending shivers down her spine.
Still, much as she wanted him inside her, she wanted something else more. “I want
to touch you, feel you—”

“Oh, you will baby. You will.” He slid his hand lower, stroked his way over and down
her sex.

She trembled, her body teetering on the edge of a second orgasm from no more than
that simple touch. “Ryder,” she said, his name an agony of need welling up inside
her.

He laughed, a soft, gentle expulsion of air that had her sex clenching and heat sweeping
across her belly.

Just that easily, she shattered. Driven beyond thinking, beyond rationality, she clutched
at his shoulders. Then turned her head and sunk her teeth into the only part of him
she could reach—the bicep of the arm that was holding her pinned against the trailer.

Chapter Fifteen

He froze at the feel of her teeth sinking into his flesh. For one second, two, he
was motionless, held in place by a desire so fierce it bordered on obsession. Then
Jamison moaned and the spell was broken. And so was his resolve. He’d wanted to spend
the night petting her, touching her, gentling her to orgasm after orgasm—she more
than deserved that kind of care from him. But there was no way he was going to last
all night, no way he was going to last more than a few more minutes before burying
himself inside of her.

Determined to give her all that he could in those minutes—and to make her come at
least once more before he slid inside of her—he let go of her wrist and crouched down.
Brought both of his hands to rest on her bare thighs. Coaxed her into opening her
legs before her innate reticence could kick in.

Trying to move slowly, to give her time to get used to him, he once again slid a finger
along the edge of her purple lace panties. He never would have taken her for a lace
girl—not cool, practical, reserved Jamison—but here was the proof. The sexy panties
cupped her sex like a lover, nestling between the folds of her pussy as he was so
desperate to do.

Leaning forward, this time he trailed his tongue along the edge of the lace, relishing
each gasp and shiver his journey elicited. “Do you have more of these, baby?” He pulled
at the waistband a little before allowing it to snap back against her bikini line
with a satisfying
smack
.

“Yes.” It was a gasp, and barely a coherent one at that.

“I’m glad.” He smiled then, let her see the wicked promise in his eyes. Then leaned
forward and with his teeth, ripped the things to shreds.

She gasped and his grin grew wider even as a powerful surge of need tore through him.
This was what he’d been thinking about, dreaming about, for what felt like forever.

Jamison, hot and wet, her skin flushed a sexy pink.

Incoherent with need.

As desperate for him as he was for her.

“Please. Ryder.” She moved her hand to his chest. Played with his nipple ring. Stroked
her way down his stomach until she got to the waistband of his jeans. “I want you,”
she whispered, bringing her hands back up to his shoulders where she clutched at him,
pulled him closer.

“Want isn’t enough,” he told her, determined to push her as close to insanity as he
was. “You have to need me the way I need you.”

“I do!” It was nearly a wail, one that turned to a high, keening cry as he nipped
at her inner thighs with his teeth. He loved the sounds she made, nipped and licked
and kissed at her in an effort to get her to make them again. To make more. He was
losing his mind, drowning in the fount of her sensuality and he wanted her to feel
the same. Needed her to be as desperate, as crazy, for him as he was for her.

“Let’s see about that,” he told her, his tongue darting out to run the length of her
sex in one slow, long sweep. She tasted like peaches and honey and sweet, rich cream.
He delved deeper, wanting more of her. Wanting all of her.

“Ryder!” Her scream shattered the silence around them and pushed him up to the edge
of the line he’d been riding. “Ryder, please. Fuck me. Please, fuck me.”

He loved the pleading tone in Jamison’s voice, loved more the breathless words spilling
out of her throat. But it wasn’t enough, wasn’t near enough. He had a fleeting thought
that it never would be, that he would want her like this forever. But then she moaned,
clutched at him, and the ability to think deserted him completely. All he could do
was feel.

The need that had been building inside him for days exploded, turned white hot and
dangerous. His breathing was shallow, his cock threatening to burst with one more
touch from her. He pushed the desire down, fought it back. Jamison would come for
him again, this time against his mouth. Only then, when she’d lost all control and
inhibitions, would he give in to the lust driving him to the brink of madness. Only
then would he take her.

Lifting her right leg, he draped it over his shoulder. She
inhaled sharply in surprise, tangled her fingers in his hair. He gentled her, angling
his shoulders so that he could support her weight. Whispered to her of everything
he was going to do to her. Then leaned forward and thrust his tongue as deeply inside
of her as he could reach.

She went wild, her body thrashing against him as she arched her hips and clutched
at him. He held her still, stopped the bucking of her hips with a heavy hand on her
stomach and continued to take her higher. She was delicious, intoxicating, the sweetest
honey he had ever known, and in that moment he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted
anything in his life.

It scared him, this need he had for her. Had him pushing her higher, faster, in an
effort to quiet the feelings raging inside of him. It almost worked, would have if
she hadn’t cried out for him, grounding him in the middle of the maelstrom.

“Ryder!” It was a plea, a demand, a cry for surcease, but he couldn’t stop. He had
to have her, had to taste every drop of her sweetness, had to take every shudder and
cry she could give him. Stroking deep, he concentrated on finding her every sensitive
spot and worked to take her higher than anyone ever had before.

When she was just about there, when she was sobbing and pleading and he sensed she
couldn’t take any more, he pulled his tongue out of her luscious warmth. Then, slipping
his hands beneath her ass, he lifted her up higher, opened her wider, and wrapped
his lips gently around her clit.

Her body arched violently as she came, bucking so wildly that she almost dislodged
him. But he held on, used his tongue and teeth and lips to ride her through one climax
and into another.

He was a man possessed, utterly enchanted by, completely addicted to the exquisite
feeling he got from giving her pleasure. He could stay like this forever, his cock
throbbing, his mouth buried in her incredibly sweet, incredibly responsive sex. Making
her come would be his new obsession.

He’d had a lot of women in his life, had used his fame and charm and looks to take
whomever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Had used sex to keep his demons, and his failures,
at bay.

But sex with Jamison was different.
Because Jamison is different
, a primitive voice in the back of his head warned even as it urged him on. Thrusting
his tongue inside of her, he sent her over the edge to one final climax before skimming
his mouth across the curve of her hip to the flat plane of her stomach. Unable to
resist, he sucked on the soft flesh of her waist until he marked her, relished the
high-pitched cry she didn’t even try to hold back. Then he soothed the small hurt
with his tongue and lips before pulling back.

“What—” she asked, dazed. Confused. She was trembling, but he knew it was from pleasure
instead of cold. Her skin was nearly feverish.

As was he. His balls were on fire, his cock burning with the need to bury itself in
the wet, silky heat of her. Lowering her to the ground, he turned her so that she
was facing the trailer. Part of him wanted to see her face when they made love, to
see her eyes go all cloudy and unfocused. But he didn’t make love that way. He never
had. It was too personal, made him feel too vulnerable. And while he wanted to know
everything about Jamison, wanted to get as personal with her as he possibly could,
he was afraid to let her see what was inside him. Afraid she wouldn’t let him touch
her if she knew just how fucked up he was.

“Ryder!” Her high keening cry dragged him out of his head and back to the present,
where he so obviously wanted to be.

Determined to get inside her—to stay inside her-- he pressed on her upper back so
that she was leaning forward, her ass thrusting back for him. Reaching into his back
pocket, he pulled out the obligatory condom. Unbuttoned his pants, rolled it on. And
then, intertwining his fingers with hers, he thrust into her from behind.

She cried out, arched wildly, tugged as if to free her hands from his grip. But he
held on, covering her with his body. He couldn’t let go now if she begged. The moment
he’d slid into her, the music had started in his head. A sweeping, electric number
that lit him up even as Jamison destroyed him with pleasure.

He was rough, rougher than he’d intended, but he’d lost control. Any gentleness he’d
had in him had been used up in the long, sexy moments of going down on her. But even
as the music swamped him, he made sure that every cry he pulled from her was of pleasure,
made sure that every slam of his body into hers took her one step higher.

He wrapped an arm around her to make sure she was protected from the cool metal of
the trailer, and then he rode her hard and fast. Each thrust was a frenzy of raging
need, each stroke a declaration of control and ownership and vicious, violent need.

And Jamison was taking it. No, she was begging for more, her muscles clenching tightly
around him. He reached down, pulled her legs further apart. He needed to go deeper,
needed to drive his cock so hard and deep inside of her that he’d never forget the
feel of her. Never forget the music pouring through him.

Sobbing, Jamison dug her fingernails into his hands, hanging on for dear life as his
thrusts moved her onto her tip-toes. “Do it!” she gasped, her body shaking uncontrollably
as her sex clenched tightly around his dick. “Please. You have to.”

The music got louder. His body screamed for relief. But he refused to give in—not
now, not when she was so close to coming again. He was desperate to feel her orgasm,
to feel her body as it spasmed wildly around him.

Easing back a little, he brought his hand down, gently stroked her clit in rhythm
to the music in his head. “No, baby,
you
have to,” he whispered, following the words with a desperate lunge inside of her.
“Come on, Jamison, baby. Let it take you. Let it—”

She screamed, her back arching beneath him like a bow as the waves exploded through
her. Gritting his teeth, he kept up the hard, steady strokes until sweat streamed
down his body. Until his muscles cried out for relief. Until yet another orgasm whipped
through Jamison and she cried his name while she came.

Only then—as the music reached a shattering crescendo—did he give himself up to a
release so violent, so powerful, it was like rock and roll itself.

…

When it was over, when she could finally think again, Jamison laid her head back against
the cool metal of the trailer and just breathed. She’d had sex before, even made love
before, but nothing and no one could have prepared her for this. For Ryder.

He made love like he sang—darkly, dangerously, and with an incredible attention to
detail that left her a quivering, boneless mess. For the first time in a long time
she felt satisfied. Even more, she felt soft. Like everything inside of her had melted
into a puddle of goo.

Which wouldn’t be so bad if she hadn’t felt her heart—and the barriers she’d very
deliberately erected between herself and Ryder—melt right along with everything else.

Panic began to set in with that realization, obliterating the post-orgasmic glow that
made her want to stay right where she was—even if that place was backed up against
an equipment trailer—forever. Heart racing, hands trembling, fear vibrating through
every nerve ending she had, she waited for Ryder to put her down. To move away. To
slide the defenses he wore so seamlessly back into place.

But he didn’t. Didn’t do anything but rest against her, his face pressed into the
curve of her neck, his body pressed into her own. She could still feel him there,
inside of her, was desperately afraid that she always would. In the last few minutes,
Ryder had done more than fucked her. He’d taken her over completely.

Panic became full-blown terror. Suddenly she wanted to struggle against him. To demand
that he put her down so that she could find that distance again. She needed to breathe,
to think, to be by herself if only for a few minutes so that she could rebuild the
defenses he had shattered so completely.

She’d spent years of her life lusting after Ryder, wanting him beyond all good sense
and comprehension, but now that she’d had him she was only more confused.

What did this mean for them? For her? For him? Were they together? Or was she a moron
for even thinking like that?
Of course you are
, she told herself as she fought the urge to shove him away. It was stupid, ridiculous
really, to imagined she was anything special when she thought about how many women
Ryder slept with in a year or a month or even a typical week.

She wanted to be different, wanted this moment between them to be more than that,
but how could it be when she’d thrown herself at him like just another groupie? Twice
now he’d touched her and twice she’d gone up in flames without him taking her for
so much as a cup of coffee. It was preposterous to think she was anything more to
him than a quick lay. A good time.

And yet even as the thoughts formed, she knew she was being unfair to Ryder. Knew
she was letting the hysteria get the better of her. He was her friend, had been her
friend and her champion and her hero for more than a decade. Just because they’d slept
together—just because they’d scratched the itch that had been building between them
for days now—didn’t mean that she was suddenly nothing to him. Of course she meant
more to him than some groupie whose name he didn’t know.

So did that mean they were going to be friends with benefits now? she wondered. And
if they were, how did she feel about that? Could she keep her feelings for him at
bay long enough to indulge in that kind of relationship? Or would the fact that she
was crazy about him—or just plain crazy—preclude them from being anything more than
what they were at this very moment?