The Sun and the Moon (Giving You ... #1) (18 page)

He paused and looked at me intensely. "I lose myself when I spend time with you. It makes me forget that I'm an orphan. It lets me block out the pain. If I think about the past, it hurts too much. Do I want to think about that shit? My dad slowly dying of cancer? My mom dying at fucking Heavenly, in a skiing accident? Me fighting my aunt for custody of my sister when I was eighteen and she was eight? I can't do that. So I've trained myself to feel things now and not think about the shit in the past. So my fear? My fear is that everything I care about will be taken away from me. And that's because it already was taken away when I was eighteen."

If that wasn't being vulnerable with me, I didn't know what was. His confession brought tears to my eyes.

"Oh, Ryan."

"I've just had ten years to learn how to deal with it and now?  I've dealt with it.  Sometimes the ways I've dealt with it haven't been great.  Did I go crazy at first, fucking everything in sight?  Yes.  Have I overindulged on all sorts of things?  Yes.  I cut loose, but then I got it together, for my little sister.  I have to watch it.  Too much pleasure means that you get fat and drunk and high and never do anything.  So I surf.  It clears my head."  He let out a breath and smiled, a wry smile, and lowered his voice. "We can talk about all of that more. If you want. I don't particularly want to. But I'll tell you anything, beautiful.  Anything." He leaned over and kissed me, a soft, wet, sweet kiss. "Are we done here, and can I take you back to bed, or is there anything else on your shit list from last night?"

Those women had planted a seed in my soul so dark and deep that I hoped that I could weed it out, because if I allowed it to grow, it could destroy this relationship—whether this was a relationship with a small "r" or a big "R."

I sighed. Then I went for it.

"Yeah, well, they were saying that you were a cheater and you used the same 'sensualist' line on them that you used on me. It made me feel like I had been had."

"The fuck?" he exploded. "Those fucking bitches. They're such haters.  I can't believe they would say those things.
Fuck
.

"Listen. I’ve never seriously dated any of them. I’ve never been exclusive with any of them. I have gone to public events with a lot of them, and yeah, I've fucked a few of them, but there was nothing more. I've never been exclusive with anyone, ever. I would never cheat on anyone if I was exclusive."

"Are you exclusive with me?" I asked in a timid voice.

"Fuck, yeah," he said emphatically. "If I had found you earlier, I would’ve been exclusive with you earlier. I keep telling you, because it's true: you're the only one I have ever wanted. In. My. Entire. Life. I have compared every other woman who I have ever been with to you. Since high school. And even though I built you up in my mind, the real you is better. Much fucking better."

Whoa.

Hold up.

"I'm yours and you're mine."

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

He laughed. And then he asked me, in that panty-dropping, husky, sexy, low voice: "Amelia, will you go out with me exclusively and be my girlfriend?"

He made my heart beat faster every time. What other answer was there to that than, "Yes?”

I'm All Yours

IN THE FEW WEEKS
that I’ve known Ryan, I’ve experienced many different kinds of kisses from him. He could kiss sweet, hot, sensual, demanding, light, or companionable. Fine by me; I would take them all. I didn't choose favorites here; I'm an equal-opportunity Ryan-kisser.

But my first kiss with him as "official" boyfriend-and-girlfriend? He took the opportunity to introduce me to a new kind of kiss that, had I imagined it before, I would’ve told you that it only existed in an alternate universe.

It didn't.

He got out of his chair on the terrace, and kneeled between my thighs, his bare, fuck me, bare, muscled, warm chest, right there for me, like some sort of boy banquet, and his blue, flowered swim trunks dropped below his hip bones. My thighs parted biblically to let him in. Wrapping his arms low around my waist, he pulled me forward by my hips, and he pressed his hardening oh-boy into my hoo-ha. And he stayed there, his arms around me, on his knees before me, looking up at me. I responded by pulling him even closer, my arms around his neck, my hands grazing the nape of his neck, loving the way his hair curled.

Yeah, this was a fucking
awesome
place to be, in his arms on a sunny morning.

But he made it even better by observing me for a moment. A beat. Just looking at me, accepting me, letting me be there with him, in his arms. I looked back at him, and then started reviewing his boyish freckles, his cheekbones, and his handsome jaw. As I gazed at his mouth, he leaned in and brushed his full lips against mine, first to the right, then to the left, and then pressed in the middle, a full-lipped kiss, giving me him, all of him.

I parted my lips, and his tongue found mine, joining together, enjoying being with each other, enjoying kissing, enjoying the connection of our warm, moist mouths and our bodies. He leaned into me, I leaned into him. We were equal participants in an utterly active kiss. We took our time, licking the inside of each other's mouths, gently probing, then building the kiss so it was stronger and stronger. With this kiss, I gave him myself, and he gave me himself, and it was beautiful.

He left my mouth, and started leaving open, wet kisses down my chin, straight down my neck, on the most vulnerable part of my throat, in front, while I kissed his nose, his forehead, the top of his head, as he made his way down. Then he said authoritatively, lips against my neck, "Come to bed."

I nodded.  He wrapped my legs around his waist, and easily got to his feet, me with all four limbs wrapped around him, like a full-frontal baby monkey.

"Do you work out?" I queried, as he walked me across the enormous full-windowed, sunny room to his big, comfy bed, his face buried in my neck.

"Sometimes. If I can't get a session in."

"Session?" I asked.

"Surfing session," he said, with a low chuckle. "This kind of session doesn't count as exercise. It counts as pleasure."

He planted me in the bed, and leaned over to take off my t-shirt.

But I had a different idea. I pushed him back with my hand.

"Wait, Ryan."

He regarded me, confused.

"Can I try something?"

"What?" he asked interestedly, his head cocked, his eyebrows coming together.

I heard the waves crash outside.

I started, hesitantly, "Ryan, you're always Mr. In-Charge in the bedroom, but you know, I haven't really had a chance to explore your body—"

"I'm all yours," he interrupted.

I'm all yours.

He was all mine.

All mine.

Mine.

"I want to return the favor of learning your body really, really well."

"Do your worst," he said hoarsely. "Where do you want me?"

Now, I hadn't really thought this through. As bossy as he normally was, he showed me repeatedly that deep down he was a giver. He didn't take anything that wasn’t his to take. But now that he was letting me have my way with him, whatever I wanted, there was simply too much territory to choose from. I mean, with these options, where do you begin to explore? I couldn't decide where to start.

Okay, actually I could.

He stood by the bed, so I decided that I wanted him to stay there. I loved how he towered over me. I got up off of the bed, and reached for the hem of my surfer-shirt sleepwear, slowly pulling it over my head.  Now I was wearing nothing but my satin, sage green panties and a smile. It was my turn to prowl. I lingered, circling him, not touching him, just looking him up and down. He was so tall, so muscular, so fine.

I decided to start my investigation at his back. He had these two attractive indentations, like dimples, in his lower back above his ass. Since he normally didn't have his back to me, I didn't often get to inspect them, and I decided that they needed a closer review. With my knuckle, I grazed one, then the other, and watched as his muscles jumped below his skin. Then I used my knuckle to gently trail up his spine, getting to know each vertebrae of his perfect back. I stopped my hand at the nape of his neck, and went up on my tiptoes.  Sticking out my tongue like a point, I licked and sucked my way back down his backbone, while I feathered my hands out over his shoulder muscles, wings, and then down his lean sides to his waist. As I did this, I could feel him straining to stay still, straining to breathe, straining to keep his hands at his side, his body in check.

This turned me on.

Yeah.  Understatement.

Watching this big handsome guy keep it in check for me to have my way with him made my panties fucking soaked.

As I’ve mentioned, I'm a particular fan of the inguinal ligaments that covered his hips and dipped into each side below his waist, leading to the V in the front.  Now, they deserved attention. I lightly traced my fingers over his cut muscle, then reached barely inside the waistband of his low-slung board shorts, one finger on each side of his, and brought my hands together to the middle of his back, feeling the warmth of his body.

Playing with him, I lazily kept one hand just barely inside his waistband, as I moved his arm so that I could duck under it without losing the connection with his shorts, while I moved to his front. I was greeted with his erection meeting my fingers, just the tip of it.  So I touched it, just a graze, and went on by, stopping at the fastening on his shorts.

My fingers traced the soft hair of his happy trail, widening my fingers out, going up, headed to his belly button.

I was sure that he thought that I was going the wrong direction.

I inserted my tongue in his navel, while following what I could see of his V with my fingers, and he groaned loudly.

Then I traced my tongue up from his belly button, paying particular attention to his washboard waist, each part of his six-pack gently defined.  His breath came in ragged gasps. My hands next went to his hips, then moved inward, feeling every nook and cranny of his abdominal muscles. I made my way slowly up his torso, stopping at one nipple to suck it, and lick it, until it was hard. Then my mouth made its way to the other one, repeating the sucking, the licking, until it, too, was hard. He moaned and let out a breath, seemingly unable to keep his hands still. I reached up on my tippy toes and sucked on his neck, my hands reaching up to the top of his shoulders. My fingertips then trailed down his arms, stopping to really feel his biceps, and his sculpted forearms. And I clasped his hands, taking a step back, holding both of his hands in mine, and surveying him.

"What?" he asked, choking it out.

"You are a fine specimen of a man, Ryan Fielding."

He gave me a lopsided grin.  "You're killing me, here, but it's a pretty fucking great death. Are you going to kill me now?"

"Nope. More torture first."

I let go of his hands and reached for the fastening of his shorts, undoing it, and easing them down his body, feeling his hard ass as I let it down, bending my body. His erection sprung free right by my lips.

So.

His cock.

It was beautiful, yes. It was enticing, yes. It had given me a bunch of orgasms, yes.

But I still did not feel like I knew it. Its ways were still a mystery to me.

"Ryan?"

"Yeah."

"I need to work up the nerve to, uh, you know, kiss you here."

"It's okay."

"I've never done it before."

"It's okay," he repeated. "I'll wait until you're ready. I'm not going to force you to do anything."

"I want to, I want to try, uh, well, but I'm scared."

"Amelia?"

"Yeah."

"You really are killing me now."

"Sorry. I don't mean to kill the moment. I'm trying to get over my neuroses. Are you disappointed?"

"Truth?"

"Yeah."

"I'm a guy. I always want a blow job. But I'm not going to push it on you."

"Can I try this?" I reached out and tentatively touched his cock. He shuddered and nodded, biting his lower lip.

"Fuck yeah, baby."

Again, I could hear the waves crashing outside, in and out of my consciousness.

Now, yes, I've touched a penis before. But before, it felt almost like an obligation. Something that I
had
to do.  But with Ryan, it's something sensual that I
wanted
to do for him. It would give him pleasure, and for all the pleasure he gave me, I really wanted to return the favor.  It also helped that his cock was astonishingly attractive. I mean, it belonged in a museum or something.

But I just couldn't do a blow job. Not yet. I didn't know why. I just … couldn't.

A hand job, though …

I touched his cock and gently stroked it up and down, first with my fingertips, noticing the vein on the underside, noticing the lip of it against the cock head, then clasping it in my hand. It was so long, I had no idea how I would ever get that thing in my mouth, if I ever decided to take him that way. But that was for another day.

He moaned again.

Moving on, I bravely took my other hand and felt his balls, gently touching them, caressing them, and this made him hiss. Then I stroked his cock, up and down, up and down, with one hand, with increasing pressure and increasing speed, and he looked down at me, eyes blazing, and growled, "Enough." He picked me up by my armpits, and threw me on the bed.