Page 92 of Ridin’ Dirty

Sure, there was the thrill of our ride.

Dinner was a good time, too.

But it was all of it.

It was the way he held my hand through the clubhouse.

It was how he demanded I stop doubting his motives.

It was the way he was looking at me right now.

It was me—naked, back against the bedroom wall, our bedroom wall, getting taken by a Wild Stallion.

Fuck, but it was him.

He was the embodiment of the life I’d been chasing all wrapped up in a ridiculously sexy body with a face I was sure I would never get sick of.

“Harder,” I begged as I swirled my fingers around my clit. “Fuck me harder, baby. Fuck me wild.”

He thrust into me deep and stilled, causing me to pause in anticipation.

“Hold on,” he demanded.

I did as I was told, grabbing the back of his neck, and then we were on the move. He shuffled to the bed, lowered me onto it, spread my knees wide, then took me so hard I thought he might split me in two.

But he did me one better.

He got me there.

And as I began to tremble with my release, he flicked my clit.

Flicked it.

“Oh, shit,” I mewled, genuinely afraid he was going to break me.

I came so hard for so long, I didn’t have the wherewithal to tamper my scream.

Lost as I was in the oblivion of my orgasm, I managed to pull Riley along with me. He buried his face in my neck, palmed one of my breasts, and made a noise so low and satisfying as he buried himself deep inside of me, I was glad I didn’t miss it.

Safe to say, I got way more than a minute.

And it was magnificent.

“Ground rules,” Riley began, his breathing still heavy as he lifted his head so I could see into his eyes. “I’m not poor, but I’m not an ATM. You need somethin’, say somethin’.”

I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that.

Nevertheless, I understood what he was communicating—regardless of the timing—was important, so I tried my damnedest to pay attention.

“Okay,” I managed.

“I’ll get used to Martha Stewart’s kitchen. That couch cost a whack—but I like it. It stays.”

I was coming down from the delirium of an epic orgasm, but his admission made the descent a pleasant one.

“Really?” I asked through a smile.

He ignored my question and asked one of his own. “How much more shit did you buy?”