*Does anyone else love the 365 Days soundtrack as much as me? Good gawd.*
•Talia•
"You snooze you loose, Novak."
My hand grabs the door faster than he can hit the lock button on the keys, resulting in me opening my own door because this isn't 1950 and I'm a grown ass adult.
After we both step out of the beauty that is his vintage car, Ryder jogs around to my side and places his hand on my lower back, nudging me in the direction of the stairs.
"Just can't let me be a gentleman, can you?"
"Not on your life." I wink, thinking momentarily before slipping my arm behind his back and resting my hand on his waist.
I can feel his warmth through the layers of fabric, the shift of his muscles under the soft shirt. It's an odd feeling to be touching someone like this, so intimate without being overtly sexual.
It's... nice.
The air is stagnant. The last of the Nevada heat still hanging in the atmosphere before late night temperatures set it. It's been hot as usual during the days, but dropping into the sixties at nights.
Any other person may be able to handle that, but a Texan turned Floridian is freezing at these temps.
Pa, the homeless man I offloaded my liquor to is passed out under the stairs and as we walk over, I hear him shift around on his sleeping bag, getting comfortable for the night.
"You need a new apartment," Ryder mentions, offhandedly.
"Psh, I'm fine here."
"There's a homeless person under our feet."
"Pa? He's harmless."
"There's graffiti on the walls."
I shrug. "It adds a pop of color."
Ryder rolls his eyes, smirking and holding back a laugh. "You're something else, you know that?"
"So I've been told." I rush the rest of the way up the steps, leaving him two steps behind me before we make it to my front door. The paint is chipping severely and the frame itself is falling apart, but at least the lock is sturdy and trustworthy.
Turning around, I rest my hand on the door handle behind me but face Ryder standing there.
All of a sudden, my breath catches in my throat at the sight of him in the shadows of moonlight and the lights coming from the strip.
His eyes appear almost black in this lighting but his smooth skin shines with the reflecting neons.
His chest pokes out of the top of his shirt, revealing a solitary cross necklace that glints when it catches the light.
"So..." I stall, not accustomed to this awkward exchange between the opposite sex.
Back when I had been on legitimate dates in the old days, I always knew how the night would end.
We'd go back to mine or his. Fuck each other's brains out until morning. Then one of us would sneak away before the other woke up. Rarely did anyone stick around for breakfast and I surely never made it a point to be seen in the morning light.
Back then it was simple. Date. Fuck. Leave. Right now, it's more complicated. Ryder isn't some random guy I picked up from a bar or agreed to go on a date with spontaneously. He's someone I know wants more. More that I want to give him, but I'm still not sure how I'll do it.
I see one of three things happening tonight: I invite him in and we spend the night together, it either goes horrible and he never wants to speak to me again, or it goes fantastic and it's proof he's the man teen me dreamt of finding one day. The third outcome: he leaves and we never make it to whatever might happen between us.
My exposed shoulder blades rest against the cool door behind me, my body tense with the emotion flowing between us.
"So," he repeats, striding ever so slowly towards me until he's just at a hair's breadth. I can sense his own nerves but nothing compares to my rising anxiety - but also, my rising desire. Interest. Arousal.
What is he going to do?
His hand twitches at his side before rising up to push away my hair from my eye. "I'd never seen a more beautiful woman until you stepped into my life. But, you're not just a pretty face, Talia. You're a wild spirit. Unchained and free. You're the most interesting person I know and all I want is to know more about you. I want to know your hopes and dreams. I want to know your family, your friends, your life. Everything. Tell me now if this isn't what you want."
My breath catches in my throat. Is my life something I want to share with him? My past, my present, and my future?
Through the past year I've known Ryder would play some part in my life, I've not known how important that part would be.
If I choose this. If I choose us, I'm not only opening my bed and body, but my heart and soul. I'll be opening myself to be hurt again.
He isn't going to hurt you.
The tiny voice in the back of my head usually sees reason a lot better than I do with my eyes and I know my mind is made up.
This thing with Ryder... it's real. And it's not going anywhere.
I don't refuse his advances as he steps closer, but I also don't speak. My words have left me for the moment as his body presses closer. Close enough for me to feel his breath fan over my cheeks as he leans to whisper in my ear. "I know that I want this. I've thought about you and me countless times. Together."
Forever?
Is it too soon to feel as if this is my forever? Though, we've been out together twice now and only made our feelings known recently, I feel it in the back of my mind that the past year has played a major role in my inclination to be with him.
He's always been there. Pestering me. Annoying the hell out of me. Bugging me to no end.
I thought he was just a pest in need of repelling, but he is really the force I need to keep moving.
I can get better on my own, I can open my own doors, pay my own bills - now - but there's no shame in falling for a man who wants nothing but to help you in life. His intentions are pure, just as is his heart.
Placing my hand over his chest, I can feel the steady beating beneath my fingertips.
Dipping his head down to get closer to my lips, I can feel the moisture from his breath touch the sensitive skin of my mouth, wetting the painted skin there.
I hold my breath, closing my eyes ever so slightly as I tilt my head backwards. My insides do flips and my back curves towards the hardened man standing before me.
My eyes stay closed for longer than I would have liked because I feel embarrassed and irritated the second he pulls away from me, a look of uncertainty plastered on his face.
Oh, no you don't.
"Screw this," I breathe, grasping the front of his shirt in my fist and yanking his body into mine until he stumbles forward and has to press his palm into my door behind me to keep his balance. His chest crashes into mine just as our lips fit tightly together, molding to one another.
His lips are soft. Like delectable little puffs of pastry, and oh so easy to get lost in.
He growls, running his other hand through my hair and pulling my hair roughly, forcing my head back to expose more of my neck.
I shift on my feet, grabbing my keys from my purse and attempting to stick the key into the door without breaking the connection formed between us.
Parting my lips, I open up for him, letting him in to explore my mouth, tasting his tongue as is delves deep within, twisting around and mixing with mine.
His lips are magnetic and I can't bring myself to pull away to get the goddamn door open. Thankfully, the heavens answered my silent prayer and assisted in getting the right key to turn in the lock, the door pushing in dramatically behind us, forcing our bodies to stumble in to the darkened apartment.
All thoughts of fear float away, as if carried away by some unknown force, leaving just the two of us together in this bubble crafted solely for the purpose of pleasure.
Instead of pain and terror, all I feel is light and longing. A deep, burning need for him to make love to me. To fuck me. To ruin me. To take me and make me forget all about what was done to my body. To take away the pain and replace it with only the good that can come.
In his arms, I feel safe. Secure. Cherished. Appreciated. I feel like I'm the only woman in his eyes, regardless of if that statement is true. He won't hurt me, I can feel it.
It smells of stale booze in the apartment, a hint of the scented candles and clean linen spray I doused the rooms with before, lingering ever so lightly in the air.
I'm almost embarrassed with the way it smells of my recent addiction, but the heady scent of his desire filters through my nose, soon blocking everything but the spicy aroma of this tattooed biker.
Ryder backs me into the room until we're entering the bedroom, his hands pushing me firmly but lightly onto the bed until I collapse onto my back, sitting up and resting on my elbows.
We don't detach for long, his body slumping over mine, our lips seeking each other out once more.
"I want this. I want you," I claim, running my hand through his long curly hair, pulling on the end of the strands dancing over his shoulder.
He growls, ripping his suit jacket off and tossing it onto the floor beside my bed, running his hands over my sides and up over my breasts. He squeezes the tender mounds together, taking a second to flick my hardened nipples with his thumbs.
His lips finally leave mine to press kiss after kiss into my jaw, my neck, my collarbones. Everywhere that I've got exposed skin, his soft lips find purchase. Leaving wet little marks in their place.
He moves fast, sliding one of his hands down my body; my body that's bucking under his touch, my back arching and pushing my lower half into his.
I can feel his erection pressing into my stomach, a moan leaving my lips as I know what's to come.
"Touch me," I command, sliding my thigh over his hip and opening myself to his advances.
He pulls back and looks into my eyes, his cheeks flushed and pupils dilated with passion.
His lips part, his breath coming out in short pants against my chin.
My own mouth drops when I feel the shivers his hands are sending up my spine from his ministrations. Those calloused hands of his are snaking their way around my thigh, pushing my dress up past my hip.
I can feel myself getting wetter. Soaking my nude panties enough for it to be quite visible that I want him.
And damnit, when he notices, he lets out the most primal, panty-wetting growl I've ever heard a man make.
The flood gates open and my pussy makes up for all this lost time by releasing a gush of wetness still tapped between my folds.
His hand, with those long, slender, tattooed fingers, inches up slowly towards my heat, taking his time. Making me wait. Making me yearn for his touch. Making me mad with desire.
"You're sure this is what you want? I can stop. Just tell me when."
I can't speak. My voice is gone as I open my mouth and only a moan releases, but I nod my head. Urging him to continue. To put me out of my misery. To not tease. To not hold back.
To take what is his.
He doesn't waste any time, his fingers gliding gently over my swollen lips, touching the soaked fabric of my panties and pressing my lips together between his fingers.
I cry out, a moan getting choked out of the back of my throat when his finger pushes between my lips and presses hard against my clit.
I can't even remember the last time I had a legitimate orgasm and already, with very few, gentle touches, I'm brought to heights I've not seen the view from in what feels like a lifetime.
He kisses my neck again, his lips touching my skin as if they'd break me if he was any rougher. Shifting his weight from his hand not touching me to his elbow, his uses his now free hand to pull down the top of my dress, allowing my right breast to spill free. My nipple cools in the air but is brought back to warmth when his mouth closes over the little nub and he uses his tongue to circle around it.
"Ryder! Fuck!" Taking his shirt in both of my hands, I rip open the front, a few buttons flying away with the act and landing on the sheets beside us or hitting the floor beneath us.
He sits up on his knees abruptly, wrapping his arms under my thighs and pulling me down towards him, my pussy colliding with his groin and my back falling against the bed.
The wind is knocked out of me from the sudden movement but I'm not complaining when he dips back down to kiss me, his hips pressing into mine and his covered cock rubbing deliciously against my core.
A few thrusts later, he's breathing heavily, as I know I am too. Sweat forms on his brow and I kiss up his cheek until I can lick the salty fluid away.
I groan, falling back into the mountain of sheets and pillows, his hands grasping my waist and his body slithering down mine until he's settled between my thighs, his face level with where I want his touch.
It's been some time now since I've let a man willingly touch me in this manner and it's hard to believe I feel absolutely no anxiety. Nothing. All I feel is Ryder and need. The need for him to touch me. To make me feel the sensations I know he can provide.
His eyes flit up to mine and hold my gaze, all the while his hands stripping my panties off my legs and tossing the wet piece of cloth to the side.
His watchful stare is oddly erotic, only making my pussy clench harder and release more liquid to soak my folds.
He doesn't delay, his mouth descending upon my clit with a fervor reserved for the crazed and starved.
My mouth hangs open and I pant, my heart racing and my legs shaking.
He licks slowly. Fast. Rough. Gentle. Up. Down. Left. Right. He dips within me to draw out more of my essence. He pulls my lips apart to suck on my clit.
He devours me. Owning my body and making me his. In the most basic of ways.
My hands reach for his scalp to hold onto something of his and I grasp that shaggy hair I so desperately wanted him to cut months back but now am grateful for.
His eyes stay connected to mine, adding to my heightened feelings and I can sense my orgasm growing closer.
"Don't stop... don't stop. I'm going to cum," I pant, licking my dry lips and nudging my hips harder against his face, rocking against his mouth - not that he isn't doing a good enough job on his own.
Out of nowhere one of his hands come up between my legs, under his mouth, and he dips two fingers inside of me, frantically raising them up and down to press against my g spot in a furious manner.
I clench around his fingers and squeeze his head between my thighs, my legs completely lifting off the bed on their own accord.
He yanks his face away from my clit for just a moment to growl, "Fucking cum for me, cupcake. Cum on my fucking mouth."
As soon as his mouth touches back down on my sensitive little bud, I cry out in pleasurable agony as I cum, an orgasm I've been searching for finally arisen.
His hand still works inside of me but he coasts up body until he's laying over me, sealing his lips over mine to stifle my cries.
Tears slip from the corners of my eyes as I come down from my high, his fingers finally slipping out of me leisurely, leaving me trembling in his arms.
"I've got you." He holds me tight to his body as I weep and shake in his arms. He doesn't run. He doesn't criticize. He understands.
He knows I needed this. He just knows.