Текст книги "Chasing Mr. Wrong"

Автор книги: Joya Ryan

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“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said to Penny, taking her up on her offer to clock out a bit early. She passed the bar and headed in the opposite direction of Ryder and out the back. Funny how this whole thing had started with Ryder wanting space, and now it was her running in the other direction.

That stubborn woman had just turned her back on him and taken off.

Ryder’s temper was boiling beneath the surface. He’d seen the look in Whitney’s eyes when she’d headed for him. He was shocked as hell that she’d appeared ready to jump into his arms—and even more shocked that he wanted her to, even if they were in the middle of the BBQ. Then that hope was stomped out when she looked like her feet had been glued to the floor, and Clara swooped in chatting about the event again.

He was only hearing every other word, because he was too busy watching where Whitney had just left. Out the back.

“…all the paint will be dry?” Clara asked. Ryder only heard the last part of her question.

“Yes, the painters are heading in tomorrow, and it all should be done for the weekend event.” It was coming up in less than a week. Come Saturday night, all his crew’s hard work would be on display, and one of the town’s most treasured buildings would be reopened.

“Excellent!” Clara said. “I’m just so happy you’re finished. Now you have time for more sociable encounters.”

She looked him over like a prize, one she’d had her sights on, and Ryder tried to find his good manners to get out of this conversation. Because yes, the last week had been a bear finishing that building, but he was finally done. He had an early meeting with Davenport the next day. Otherwise, all that was left to do was monitor the final touches. That was why tonight he’d come straight to the place, and woman, he’d been dying to see.

And she’d just run off.

He didn’t want to talk about the event. Didn’t want to think about the Hall. For months his life had revolved around it. Hell, his life revolved around the town on a regular basis. Tonight he just wanted Whitney. Wanted to be alone with her. Talk to her. Forget who he was in public and have a private moment between the two of them.

“Why don’t you join me for dinner and we can discuss the weekend?” Clara said.

Ryder’s eyes snapped to her. “I already have plans.”

He should have accompanied that with an apology, but he wasn’t sorry. He wanted to see Whitney, and he wouldn’t apologize or explain.

He let Clara pout and tossed a wave to his sister. Penny looked confused, but she waved back.

He marched out the door and to his truck in record time. Barreling toward the lodge, he realized quickly he didn’t know what room Whitney was in, but he’d start with the bar where he’d first met her.

The main entrance was empty, just like the entire lounge and bar area. Even the counter of the bar, near the billiards room, had a “Return in an hour” sign up. Dead. The entire place was dead. But through the corridor, he heard the faint sound of one pool ball hitting another and a side pocket shot sinking.

Adrenaline raced through him, but he reached for his coolest composure and entered the poolroom. There, like his blessed dreams, was Whitney, bending over and lining up her next shot.

Those shorts of hers were his favorite thing on the planet, and he took a long moment to appreciate then.

“Damn it,” she muttered, when she missed her shot.

“You know what I was thinking the first night I saw you in here?” he asked.

She turned to face him with a little jump.

“Do you have some sneak-up quota you have to fill every day or something?”

“Answer my question,” he asserted. He was not in a friendly mood. This was his show. He’d gone to the BBQ to see her, and he’d be damned if she twisted this game of theirs to her favor.

“Let’s see, the night you met me… Pretty sure you were thinking I was someone else.”

He walked toward her until he reached the pool table and stood before her. “I was actually thinking of what this”—he spun her around, bent her over the pool table, and ran his fingers along the back of her knee—“tasted like.” He knelt quickly to trace his tongue up along that soft skin and felt her shudder, and then he rose and whispered in her ear, “Just as I thought. Sweet.”

She turned to face him, and he grabbed the edge of the pool table on either side of her hips, caging her in.

“What are you doing here, Ryder?” she asked softly. Something in her eyes was pleading. Like she was half scared, half desperate for his answer.

“I came to see you.”

The edge of her lips tugged upward, like those five words were all she needed.

“You’ve been working hard, I hear,” she said.

“So have you.”

She nodded and looked over his face in a way no other woman ever had. Like she was studying him. Maybe even doing some of that learning she’d mentioned a time or two. Whatever it was, he felt seen. Like she could grasp the real him.

“See, I finally got a night off and came to call on this sexy, bright woman, and you know what she did?” he asked, leaning in a little so his face was in line with hers.

She swayed in between his straightened arms, but he wasn’t letting go of that table. She gave an innocent look, but Ryder knew she was playing with him. So he moved a bit closer, until his chin was a millimeter from hers.

“What did she do?” she whispered.

“She ran off on me.”

“The nerve,” she chastised, in her mocking way. The same tone that kicked his pulse into high gear. But he kept it simmering and went on with this little conversation.

“That’s what I thought,” he agreed. “Which made me think of how I’d retaliate against her when I finally caught her. You see, this woman likes being chased.”

“You sure?”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I even happen to know that every now and again, she likes being caught.”

“Interesting,” Whitney said, playing along.

“Unless she really was running away because she can’t stand the sight of me,” he amended.

She laughed like he’d just told her the world was flat. “The sight of you is not the problem, big guy. My guess is she thoroughly enjoys the sight of you.” She glanced down, something she rarely did, but he was picking up on the notion that she had more to say. So he waited a moment and hoped she’d give voice to whatever silent thoughts she had.

Finally, his patience paid off.

“Maybe this woman also knows that you’re different in public than you are in private.”

That swatted his ribs like a rolled up newspaper. Of course he was different with Whitney in private than public. It had been a basis of their whole frustrating relationship. The truth was, though, he felt more himself—safer—alone with her than anywhere else.

“Do you think the woman in question likes me in private or public?”

Whitney looked at him. “She likes you in private, just wishes she knew the public side of you better.”

She reached up and ran a finger along the edge of his Stetson.

“I’m learning she has a thing for cowboys, too,” he whispered, his mouth hovering just over hers.

“But you’re not a cowboy,” she countered.

“No, ma’am, I’m not.”

She searched his face, those fingers dropping from his hat to his cheek, then down to his neck. “So maybe she just has a thing for you.”

“If that’s so, why would she run?”

She lifted a shoulder. “She’s bound to leave eventually.”

That made something twist in his stomach, but he did his best to ignore and move past it. “Maybe so. But she’s not leaving tonight.”

He leaned down and snagged the smallest sample of those full lips, tasting the sweetest drug he’d ever had. And damn he’d missed it. Not having a hit of her for a week had strung him out in a way that hurt. It left him jonesing for more, needing that fire to feel alive. With one taste, he turned on like a broken engine revved to life.

“Whoa,” she breathed against his mouth. “It’s not very fair that you can rock a girl’s world with one kiss.”

His thoughts exactly. He grinned, but stopped short, because the truth was, the woman in his arms was rocking a lot in his own world. Like, the whole damn atmosphere.

“You’re the one who’s shaking up my life, sweetness.”

She looked up at him, and he kept her close so he could continue slowly kissing her lips, taking little tastes, like she was the last spoonful of sweet cream and he wanted every drop.

“You don’t seem like a shakable guy,” she whispered, then gently met his tongue with the tip of her own. It took all of his will to keep the languid pace and light brushes from escalating prematurely. Because he was ready to dive deep and get lost for the whole night.

“I’m not,” he admitted. “But I’ve had my moments.”

“Tell me,” she asked, and the softness in her voice, paired with the way her breath hit his face, made him give in. Something, once again, he shouldn’t do. But Whitney was there with him, making him feel like he wanted to confide in her. As if, in this one moment, just the two of them, away from prying eyes and the reality of a public persona, he could be himself.

“I’ve followed the wildness all the way, and it didn’t turn out well for me.”

Her hand smoothed up his stomach, his pressed shirt giving off a crisp sound as she went, as if she were quietly urging him to go on.

“I was young,” he said, “I got caught up in a woman that had certain interests. I thought I was one of them. I was too far gone to see what she was really after, and I almost lost everything.”

Whitney’s mocha eyes searched his for a moment, then she leaned in. Her nose skimmed along his jaw as she tilted her head, and a look of anger and sadness crossed her face.

“You are more than…” She trailed off, and Ryder really wanted to hear the rest of that thought, but she changed gears. “What do you mean you almost lost everything?”

“I eloped with her. My money, my inheritance, my family’s legacy, it all came into play. I knew that. My father had warned me about it every day of my life. But I was young. Stupid. I didn’t think she’d want anything more than me.” He shook his head. “Luckily, I got out of it without losing too much of my family’s money or good name.”

Just talking about it filled him with anger at himself. She could have taken his family to the cleaners. The settlement hadn’t hit them too hard, but that wasn’t the worst part. It was that Ryder had flat out lost control and given in to what he shouldn’t have—his own wants, his own desires—with no thought for the consequences.

“It’s hard to imagine that you eloped.”

“Not one of my finest moments,” he rasped. “Which is why I don’t jump into anything. Don’t play casual and don’t—”

“Go for women with nothing to offer,” she said, and the expression that crossed her face was one he couldn’t stand.

“I was going to say that I stay away from things that tempt me past the point of reason.” Using a single fingertip, he raised her chin until her dark gaze was back on his. She was the most tempting thing he’d ever encountered. Which was why he did know better than to pursue her. He was trying to control his addiction, and he was slipping. He felt it every time she was in his arms. And try as he might, he kept finding her back in them.

“I’m not looking for anything from you, Ryder,” she said. And that admission should have made him feel better, but it didn’t. It hit against his chest like a rubber bullet and left a painful numbness. “You looked dressed for a night out,” she breathed against his lips.

He had decided to go to the BBQ and ask her out. Again. Then she would have turned him down. Again. Then he’d persist and, once she agreed, he’d finally prove to himself he could control himself around her after all.

The plan had been doomed from the start, though. He ought to just cut himself off from her completely. But the truth was, he enjoyed Whitney—everything from her body to her company. What was more, he enjoyed who he was with her, bad idea or not. With her, he got to be real, and she allowed that. Welcomed it, even.

He needed to lie to her now, find the words that would send her away from him before he got himself in any deeper. But she wanted from him only what was real, and though he knew it would make things worse, he wouldn’t betray her with anything less than the truth.

“I just want to spend the night with you. However you want.”

She looked him in the eyes. “How about a compromise?”

He trailed his lips along hers and said, “I’m listening.”

“You want a dinner date. I want to eat you for dinner… How about we meet in the middle and I cook for you this time?”

He smiled against her mouth and said the one word she’d given him over the past couple of weeks that always made his pulse quicken with anticipation.

“Deal.”

Chapter Eleven

“I really do love your cooking,” Ryder said, spooning up a helping of dessert.

“Yes, well, I worked hard on this meal,” Whitney fibbed. Obviously she hadn’t baked since they were in her hotel room.

He just shot her a smile. “Yeah, I saw how difficult it was dialing the phone to order room service.”

She shrugged. “It’s my version of cooking. Still counts. Sort of…”

They both laughed.

Ryder held out a spoonful of dessert and she leaned in to let him feed her.

“Oh my God, this is good,” Whitney said around a bite of apple cobbler. Yep, room service was the best idea ever. He had stayed true to his word and not touched her until after their meal. He got his pseudo date, and Whitney got him on her bed. Only he was still clothed—something she was hoping to change shortly.

She sat on the mattress, legs crossed and facing Ryder, while he leaned against the headboard and held the bowl of dessert they shared. He reached out with a spoonful for her. She took another bite, and when the spoon left her lips, he instantly brought it to his own mouth. Watching the man eat was hot. Watching him walk was hot. Watching him stand and do nothing was hot.

She was hard pressed to find anything about Ryder that wasn’t, in fact, hot. And now her train of thought was on what muscles lay beneath that perfectly pressed shirt of his. Not to mention, he was feeding her, sharing with her, like they were…

Don’t say it.

Because they weren’t a couple. Or even friends. They were just having fun. That’s it.

His cell on the bedside table buzzed. He glanced at it, then took a deep breath and ignored it.

“If you need to get that—”

“It’s fine,” he said. But just then, the phone buzzed again.

“You’re a busy man,” she said. “And apparently in high demand.”

He glanced at the bowl of dessert. “There’s a lot going on for the opening of the Davenport Hall.”

“Are you worried?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head. “Yes and no. There are a lot of people watching. A lot of eyes on this event.”

“The town you mean? Are they all expecting you to have built this awesome Hall, one with no equal?” She gave a playful smile, but Ryder was serious.

“Kind of…yeah.”

Wow, that was heavy. And a lot to deal with.

“This one is important because it’s a showcase of me and my crew’s work,” he said. “My men are waiting to see if we get a chance to bid on Davenport’s next project.”

“Job security,” she said.

“Yeah. But it’s more than that. We’re not just restoring the Hall. We’re restoring the city. It’s a chance for the community to come together. Penny is providing food, the booster club hired the band… Everything and everyone comes together and they earn their livings that way.”

“So basically this event has a lot of futures wrapped up in it.”

Ryder nodded and that’s when she saw the pride in his eyes. He was riding at the forefront of this community project like he was born to do it. Because he was a strong, good man who cared about his community. He was a leader.

“So, have you ever had apple cobbler before?” he asked, holding another spoonful out for her.

Part of her wanted him to go on speaking about the Hall and his love for the city of Diamond. She’d suspected that his need for self-control was about some deep insecurity. And maybe there was a little of that, but she saw, too, that it was born from a deep devotion to the people he loved. He believed they depended on him, and he’d die before he let them down. No wonder he put such pressure on himself to keep control.

She knew that look in his eye, though. He needed a little distance. So she took the cobbler with a smile.

“No, never had it before,” she said. “The group home had mostly boxed meals, and none of my foster parents ever cooked much.”

Ryder stilled.

Whitney went pale. At least, she was pretty sure she did, since she felt the blood drain from her face. She never talked about her life. Her past. Any of it. She’d had her sister to talk to, and that was it. And she was gone now. So there was no reminiscing about her less than stellar childhood required.

Yet she’d just opened up to Ryder like he was her soul mate or something.

“How many foster parents did you have?” he asked.

She shrugged, trying for a flippant demeanor, but Ryder’s gray eyes were penetrating, like he could see right through her.

“Lost count,” she admitted. “But about two a year. Then there were bouts in the group home until another family was selected.”

“That’s why you said you were from everywhere.”

“We stayed near the Boston area.”

“We, as in you and your sister.”

She leaned toward him and licked her lips. He obliged her with another bite of cobbler. It gave her a minute to think. Usually her thoughts would be about how to get out of this conversation, but for some reason, talking to Ryder didn’t feel so bad.

“Yes, we stuck together.”

“I’m glad. So you had a sense of home wherever you went,” he said, and the softness in his voice made that hole in her chest throb. He understood. They were two totally different people from totally different walks of life, and somehow he said the one thing that summed up perfectly her life, her sister, and what Kacey had meant to her.

“Yes. She was like home.” Just saying it crushed her. Yeah, she went from place to place now, no roots, because once she’d lost Kacey, no place had ever felt like home again.

“I’m sorry you lost her.”

He didn’t ask how or why, or go for the gory details. He was calm, allowing her to lead with whatever she wanted to tell. And she appreciated him for that. More than she ever thought she could appreciate anyone.

“So…” She slapped her thighs, hoping for a subject detour. Because, truth was, she wanted to hear about Ryder. He’d opened up to her a little, and she valued that information dearly. It was a glimpse into the man he kept hidden. The man she enjoyed being around. “Word around the BBQ is this Hall you’ve redone is a big hit.” She snagged his hat and put it on her head.

“It’s a landmark for the town. It’s large and old, but with it restored, and by adding the auditorium, there will be an opportunity for some theater projects, plays, and events to be held there. Which is great for the city.”

“And that woman you talk to owns it?”

He looked at her. “Clara Davenport is the daughter of Milton Davenport, the man who owns a lot of property in Kansas.”

“Ah. So she must love that you’re in her building a lot.”

Ryder smiled. “Why, sweetness, if I didn’t know better, it’d sound like you were fishing.”

“Nope,” she said quickly. But crap, was she? She was out of her element here, thanks to this whole not-a-date-but-sort-of-a-date-thing.

“Clara and I went to school together. That’s it. She’s…”

“Persistent?”

“Something like that,” Ryder said. “Where did you go to school?”

She frowned. “What kind of question is that?”

“One I’m interested in. I didn’t know, with you having to move so much, if you got to stay at the same school.”

“For the most part we stayed in the same district. But our housing situation changed a lot. So it’s all a blur.”

“Making friends must have been hard.”

She looked at the silvery pools of his eyes, eating her up. Ryder and Penny were close. They had the same friends now that they’d had when they were young. And they were all close. That kind of family was something Whitney had always thought to be a myth. But the town of Diamond embodied the word “family.” If they took you in, you belonged for life, no matter who you were or where you came from.

Pain welled up in her chest. This was why she didn’t do the whole “talking and getting to know people” part of dating.

Ryder held out another spoonful of cobbler, and she took it, glad for the distraction. Chewing slightly was calming, and so was the food. So was Ryder’s presence, actually. He looked at her and waited with what seemed like infinite calm and control. And for the first time, she felt the urge to talk about her sister.

“Kacey was all I had,” she said. “She was really sweet, always setting goals and looking on the bright side. She took joy in every damn thing in life.”

Ryder nodded, listening intently.

“She died last year. Car accident. I was with her.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetness.” His low tone made her heart swell. He was there, not pushing, not asking, just letting her talk. Letting her be who she was. He wasn’t reaching out to rub her arm like she was some broken, pitiful thing. He simply held out another spoonful of dessert, and she took the bite.

“I miss her. I try to live the way she did. Moving. Experiencing everything I can.”

“Smart.”

She frowned. “You think so?”

“You do what you want, when you want. Always moving, no one to answer to. You live for yourself and for your sister. I can see the appeal of that. Heck, in some ways, I envy you.”

“But sooner or later, won’t it catch up to me?” she asked, not because she meant it but because she’d heard it so many times she couldn’t stand to hear it again.

“No,” Ryder said with seriousness. “I don’t think anything can catch up to you, sweetness. You’re a special kind of wild.” She smiled, and heat spread from her mouth to her stomach. “But sooner or later, you may want to be caught. For real.”

Was he serious? He couldn’t be talking about himself…could he? He couldn’t honestly be thinking that she’d stay… Or could he? And if he was serious, could she stay? Would she want to?

No, surely not. There was a reason she lived in the moment and never stayed in any place or with any one person for too long. And as far as staying here with Ryder, hadn’t he just said it himself? Their very natures were on opposite ends of the spectrum. As much as she yearned for roots, she was wild at heart. And as much as he yearned to be wild, he was rooted in Diamond with all the self-control he could summon.

“I’ll never want to be caught for real,” she whispered. It was too permanent. There was too much life to live. Too many memories to outrun.

Ryder set the bowl on the bedside table. “Then I pity the person who tries to catch you.”

Her chest stung on his admission, and she didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know how to think, because he was taking up too much room in her mind and her heart. She needed to get back to her plan. This was supposed to be casual, right? No dates. No romance. None of the heavy emotions he was pulling out of her.

Which meant it was time to poke Ryder until that alpha side of his took over.

“You came in tonight and said you thought of tasting me?”

He nodded.

“Want to know what I thought of when I saw you the first time?” she asked.

He raised a brow. Clearly he wasn’t welcoming the subject change, but when she crawled toward him and unbuttoned the top clasp of his shirt, then the next, then the next, the movement of his chest shifted rhythm, from shallow inhales to deep breaths.

“I thought of how you would take me. Would you be hard or soft?” She undid another button. “Fast or slow?” The last button opened, showing his impressive skin and hard torso. “Mostly I wondered what your hands would feel like on my skin.”

His gray eyes looked over her and stopped on his hat atop her head. “I’m starting to see your fondness for a certain look. I think I just developed a crush on a cowgirl.”

She tipped her hat the way she’d seen people do in old west movies, then in her best Ryder Diamond impression, she said, “Not a cowgirl.”

“Maybe not, but I like my hat on you. I’d like it better if that was all you wore, though.”

His hot gaze had turned molten, and finally she was getting back to where she needed to be. There was safety in limiting what was between them to just sex. That was all she could offer, and that was all she could take.

Ryder sat forward and cupped her face. She braced herself for his kiss, was dying for it, but he kept a fraction of distance between them. His scent wrapped her up, almost as much as his heat.

“Whitney…” He whispered her name. “Thank you for the compromise. I’m…glad I know you.”

A fist closed around her heart, and a rush of air stuck somewhere along her windpipe. It was the most genuine thing she’d ever heard. Her skin felt like fabric, and Ryder was tearing at the seams of her entire being.

“I’m glad I know you, too,” she whispered.

He closed the last bit of space and kissed her. He dipped his tongue inside for a quick taste, then sat there—still, interlocked with her—and just…stayed.

Stayed in the kiss. Stayed in the moment. And she stayed right there with him, the feel of his firm lips and his sweet taste slowly seeping into her senses, like she truly recognized him. Knew him.

She wanted to see him—really see him—and have access to the entire strong man that was finally, finally, in her bed.

“Will you stand up?” she asked.

He looked at her for a moment, and then did as she asked. “Not loving the idea of leaving your body, sweetness,” he said, but he rose and stood at the foot of her bed.

She faced him, then got to her knees. The mattress dipped as she ran her hands along his torso and up his arms, making his open shirt fall away like white curtains off all that tan skin.

“I won’t let you go far,” she said and put his hat back on his head. The look of him shirtless, with low slung jeans and hard muscles, made her brain foggy. He was her dream man come to life.

She cupped his neck and trailed little kisses around his jaw to his chin. The clean-shaven planes of his face tickled her lips as she moved down his neck to his chest.

“Jesus, you feel so good,” he murmured. His head lolled back just a bit, and a calm happiness flooded her at Ryder Diamond standing there, letting her taste him.

He worked her shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor, then tugged on her shorts. Without taking her mouth from his skin, she shimmied out of her bottoms, and they soon were on the pile of other discarded clothes.

“Pink today,” he rasped, grazing his fingers along her lace panties.

She ran her hands down his chest, admiring all the hard ridges of his abs, and then she smoothed her palms over his sides, down his hips, and back up his rock hard stomach. She could stay there, on her knees, delivering sweeping touches across his impressive body for an eternity and never get bored.

She kissed the top ridge of his abs, nipping it, then moving down to the next set of defined muscles. And lower, until she ran her tongue along the V of his hips.

“You’re like my very own lollipop,” she said, biting and licking his hips as she unfastened his belt and pulled his jeans down until his hard cock was freed and bobbed in front of her.

He stepped from his pants and kicked them away. She’d thought his being shirtless was a sight, but Ryder Diamond put his own image to shame as he stood in nothing but a Stetson and a smile.

Her stomach flipped with butterflies, and the instant need to feel him everywhere.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asked.

She delivered one wet kiss to the head of his shaft, then looked up and said, “Tell me.”

His gray eyes sizzled. “You make me feel like I’m climbing high and in control when I have a hold of you.” He wove his hands through her hair. “But then I realize it’s like trying to hold onto a strong, hot breeze. Soothing and sinful while it lasts, but then it knocks you on your ass and leaves you with the truth that you never had a good grip on it to start with.”

Her eyes searched his face. He was hitting her with so much honesty tonight it was heating up her chest in places that had long ago frozen over with ice.

“You’re holding on right now,” she said.

He nodded, his brow furrowing as his thumbs traced back and forth along her cheekbones.

“It would appear so.”

She wanted to please him. Feel him. Get lost in the lust and crazy passion only he made her feel. With a final kiss on his hip, she lay down on her back, her head hanging off the edge of the bed, and she looked up at him.

“Come here.” She opened her mouth.

The moment her intentions registered, the expression on his face was priceless. Awe and excitement transformed his handsome features as he took his hat off and tossed it across the room.

“You’re a damn dream, sweetness,” he said, holding his hard cock and stepping closer. He bent slightly to run the crown along her lips. Her head was hanging off the edge of the bed, elongating her neck as she stared up at him. She opened wider, waiting for him to close the last bit of distance.

She flicked her tongue out, urging him on.

“You ready?” he asked.

She nodded, and it was all the assurance he seemed to need. He pushed his cock into her mouth and groaned as inch after inch disappeared into her throat.

“Fuck, sweetness,” he moaned and leaned over her, his hands gripping the sheets on either side of her hips. He slowly withdrew, then thrust back in, surging in and out the way he would her core.

“Spread your legs wide for me,” he rasped.

She did, bending her knees and letting them fall wide. She heard the sound of ripping lace and felt the material tug and give way under his strong hand. He’d torn them clean off. She was left spread wide and bare. He growled with approval.

All she could see were his hard abs flexing right above her face as she sucked him over and over. And when she felt his hot tongue flick her clit, she jerked at the instant pleasure.

“I may be your lollipop, but you’re the best damn dessert I’ve ever had.” He took the little bundle of nerves between his lips.

She moaned around the thick cock in her throat, which made him tongue her faster. Harder. She concentrated on breathing through her nose while Ryder lashed her sweet spot with lick after lick.