Christ. She's going to kill me.
I carry her down the hallway, my mouth never leaving hers, tongues tangling as I navigate around paint cans and drop cloths. The bedroom door is open, moonlight streaming through the uncurtained windows and casting everything in silver shadows.
The bed is just a mattress on the floor surrounded by boxes, but it's mine.
Ours, if she'll have it.
Not just this moment or this night, but this house. This disaster of a fixer-upper with its peeling wallpaper and creaky floors.
I bought it to be a home, not just a place to crash between games. I'll replace those warped floorboards, finish the kitchen she deserves, build a proper bedroom where this mattress sits abandoned on the floor.
And I'll do it all for her, if she'll let me. I'll frame that goddamn tree and nourish it until it blooms forevermore, because I've got all this, and I've got it for her.
I lower her gently, my hands already working at the zipper of her dress as she reaches for the hem of my sweater.
"You're so fucking beautiful," I murmur, peeling the emerald fabric away from her body, revealing pale skin that as smooth as the silk that falls away from it. "So goddamn beautiful, Mia."
The dress pools around her hips, revealing a black lace bra that makes my mouth water and my cock throb painfully. Her skin is so damn perfect in the moonlight, and I can't resist leaning downto press open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone, biting and nibbling until she's moaning in my ear again.
"Ryder," she breathes, arching beneath me as my mouth moves lower, tasting the valley between her breasts. "I've missed this. I've missedyou."
Her confession makes something fierce and possessive roar to life in my chest.
Mine. She's mine.
I work my way down her body slowly, savoring every inch of soft skin revealed as I peel away layers. The dress goes first, then the bra, my mouth following the path of my hands as I worship her body like a man starving.
Her breasts are perfect, nipples already peaked and begging for my attention. I take one into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the sensitive tip as she arches beneath me with a broken moan.
"Oh God, yes," she whispers, her hands fisting in my hair as I lavish attention on one breast, then the other. "I've dreamed about this. About you."
"Tell me more, baby. Tell me everything."
She moans as I suck on her nipple hard. Those tiny black panties are next, and I peel them down her legs slowly, my mouth following the path of the lace as I kiss her hip bones, the inside of her thighs, everywhere except where she needs me most.
"Look at you," I whisper, settling between her legs and just staring for a moment. She's glistening with arousal, her pussy pink and swollen and so fucking beautiful. "Perfect. You're so fucking perfect."
Her breathing is coming in short pants now, her hands fisted in the sheets as she opens for me like a flower. I can see how wet she is, how her clit is already swollen and glistening with need,and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to dive in like a starving man.
"Ryder," she whispers, her voice breaking on the word. Her hand goes to the back of my head, guiding me closer to her heat. "It's all yours, Ryder. Take what you need from me."
I feel like someone should slap my across the face.
This can't be real. It just can't be.
With a grunt, I lean down and taste her, my tongue sliding through her slick folds as she cries out and arches off the mattress.
She tastes like honey and everything I've been craving, exactly like I remember from our first time together, from all those stolen moments when we were young and thought we had forever.
I groan against her as her walls come tumbling down completely, just like they did the night I gave her my virginity and she gave me hers. The first time we made love, I thought I might die from the intensity of it.
As it turns out, she still has the same effect on me.
"Oh God," she moans, her hands tangling in my hair, gripping tight as her hips grind against my mouth. "Oh God, yes."
I lose myself in her, licking and sucking and claiming every inch of her pussy like I'm starving for it. Because I am. Eight years of fantasies and dreams and late-night longings can't compare to this—to having her writhing beneath me, moaning my name like a prayer.
I circle her clit with my tongue, feeling how it throbs under my touch, then slide lower to taste her entrance, fucking her with my tongue until she's sobbing my name. Her thighs tremble around my head as I work her higher, alternating between gentle licks and firm pressure that has her grinding against my face desperately.
