It’s just him. Just us.
His fingers slip under the hem of my dress, his palms skating over my skin. “You have no idea how long I’ve been thinking of this,” he murmurs, his voice rough, lips still pressed against mine.
I smirk, nipping at his bottom lip. “Oh? And what exactly have you been thinking about?”
His hands tighten on my hips, pulling me closer. “You. Just like this. A little messy. A lot turned on,” he says with a rough grunt. “Been thinking of it ever since I saw those clay covered overalls in your dorm.”
My heart stutters at the admission. That was months ago, before he had ever even kissed me, before we even knew each other that well.
I hum, letting my fingers trail up his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath my touch. “And what else?”
Ryan exhales sharply, his grip flexing. “You really wanna know?”
I nod, biting my lip.
He leans in, his voice breathy and sinful against my ear. “I’ve thought about having you like this. Covered in clay, with my hands all over you.” His fingers slip beneath the hem of my dress, skimming my bare thighs. “Making you whimper while I touch you. Getting you so worked up you forget how to breathe.”
Heat pools low in my stomach, spreading with every word. “You talk a big game,” I tease.
Ryan chuckles, slow and cocky, his tongue flicking against my bottom lip. “I back it up, too.”
His lips find my throat, kissing, nipping, sucking until I gasp. His hands roam, exploring, learning the curves of my body. Just when I think I might lose it, he pulls back, leaving me breathless.
“You’re playing dirty,” I whisper, my voice shaking with need.
Ryan grins against my skin, his teeth grazing my collarbone. “I can make it so much dirtier, baby.”
I let out a shaky breath as he pushes my dress up inch by inch, until my thighs are bare. His fingers dig in, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin, coaxing my legs apart as he presses closer. I can feel him, hard, hot, thick underneath me.
His hands slide back to my hips. “Hold that thought,” he murmurs.
I blink back at him, dazed, lips swollen from his kisses. “What?—?”
He grins, kissing the corner of my mouth before pulling back. I make a soft sound of protest, my thighs instinctively squeezing together, but Ryan just chuckles as he takes a step back. “Don’t worry, baby,” he drawls, heading toward the utility sink at the corner of the studio, turning on the water. “I’m not stopping. Just not about to fuck my girl with mud all over my hands.”
When he comes back, he grips my hips and lifts me up, placing me on the worktable.
“What’s my favorite color today, Isabella?” he asks, his eyes flickering down between my legs.
I bite my lip, shaking my head. “I’m not wearing any.”
A groan crawls out of his throat as he pushes my legs apart, and stares down at the evidence. “Fuck,” he grunts, dragging his thumb over my wet, swollen clit, gathering the proof of how much I need him. “You’ve been dying for me, baby. Haven’t you?”
I don’t answer, can’t. Not when his fingers are moving, circling, teasing, making me arch into him.
“Say it,” he demands, tugging my underwear down my legs. “Tell me how bad you want it.”
I exhale shakily. “Ryan…”
He clicks his tongue. “Try again.”
I whimper when he slides a finger inside me, stretching, filling me. My thighs quiver and my hands grip the edge of the worktable so tight my knuckles turn white. “I want you… So bad,” I whisper, desperate for him.
His breath catches, and then his other hand is on my chin, tilting my head back so he can kiss me, his tongue sliding against mine as his fingers keep working me open. He swallows every moan, every gasp, his body pressing harder against mine.
“That’s better,” he murmurs against my lips. “Gotta hear you beg for it.”
I can’t think anymore. I don’t want to. All I want is him—more of him, all of him.
