Ryder and Lexi Part 2
Excerpt From: M. J. Roberts. “Rock Hard: Chord Brothers, Book 1.”
She’s changed into a green sundress the color of spring leaves that hugs her breasts tight and comes to a flowy stop above mid-thigh. I salivate. Literally salivate, because I want her so much, she’s all there is.
“Lexi…” I grit out, my voice sounding more like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together than me.
Lexi: ‘Ryder, you know I’d follow you anywhere.’
Oh, Lex, you have no idea, baby. I’d follow you anywhere too.
She takes a few tentative steps toward me and I sweep her up in my arms, the way I’ve wanted to for days, and I crush my mouth to hers, drinking her in.
Our bowls and boxes from the morning are still on the table. I sweep them crashing off with one large, brushing movement of my arm. I pick Lexi up and sit her down on the edge of the table.
Lexi opens her legs and I step between them.
I take her face in both my palms and focus everything I have on the kiss. I let the kiss talk for me, trying to tell her that she is the hottest, sexiest, loveliest woman I know or will ever meet, and that I’m crazy about her.
She lets me control the kiss, and I deepen it, singing a duet with her that strikes a hundred tiny sparks in my toes that begin crackle up my bones like wildfire. It’s drugging me, the lust creating a flood of wonder that has me making love to her mouth the way I want to with my cock.
My God, I have to get in her. But first, I have to taste her. I have to.
I pull away a little. She whimpers in protest.
Her eyes are glazed over, blown out with lust.
“Ryder,” she whispers.
I pull one strap of her dress down and bite her gently there. “I want to rock you so hard,” I whisper.
She whimpers again, and this time, it’s with need.
I kiss the top of the other strap, bite her softly, smooth the sting with my tongue. “Is that what you want, baby?”
Lust surges through my blood, screaming-hot, barreling through my veins.
I push her dress down to her waist, and her bra, a sexy, lacy, green thing with butterflies gets yanked down to her waist a second later so I can devour her with my eyes.
“Lexi…” I say and kiss her. “I can’t believe my luck. I love looking at you.” I kiss her again, plundering her mouth, giving and taking as our melodies intertwine. “I don’t deserve you,” I rasp against her lips. “But I want you so much. You’re all I can think about.”
Her breath warms my neck, her hot little tongue coming out to play me like I’m the instrument and she’s the maestro. My pulse spikes to a dangerously fast beat, but I don’t care, this is Lexi, my Lexi, hot, wet, ready, mine.
I kiss down her front. I feast on her breasts, my god, her perfect, luscious breasts, mounding up my heaven and shoving her in my mouth, desperate to pleasure her.
I love you, Lexi. I love you. Iloveyou. Tell her that you fool; tell her you love her. I tear my mouth away from her breast, still grinding against her hard, and I open my mouth to say I love you, but what comes out is, “I have synesthesia.”
She grips my shoulder. “You’ve had synesthesia and you never told me?”
She looks hurt and confused. I push my hips against her.
“No. I just got it.”
I kiss the top of her shoulder. Her skin. I could lose myself in the softness of her skin.
“That’s impossible. Synesthesia is a condition. It’s something you’re born with, like perfect pitch.”
“Ah-huh,” I agree with her absently, as I kiss the other shoulder and work my way back down toward her delicious breasts. “Except I never had it. Until you. You gave me this. You brought this out in me. It must have been buried all along, but I never felt it, couldn’t feel it.” Oh, pretty nipple, so ripe. “Until you.”
I look in her eyes and I brush my knuckles against her cheek. As if I gave it its own intro, the synesthesia blooms up and the world bursts into vivid over saturated Technicolor. Lines of pink and piano sounds pour out from Lexi’s chest, bobbing up and down in time with our fast hearts beating.
I pull her off the table and set her gently on the floor. I squat in front of her, reach up under her dress, and slowly pull her underwear down. The synesthesia magnifies everything, so the scrape of the material down her legs, her putting a hand on my shoulder to balance on one leg as she steps out of them, the smell of her arousal, everything is turned up to close to speaker-blowing intensity.
I want to bring her underwear to my nose, but I don’t, I stuff them in my back pocket.
“Trust me, baby?” I ask.
I take off my jacket and spread it carefully on the table. I lift her up, sit her down on my jacket, pull her a little closer to the edge.
I love you, Lexi. I love you so much. I wish I could say it. You deserve so much more.
I squat down in front of her, open her legs a little and come in close between them.
Her breath quickens with panic.
“I need you to trust me,” I say. “I’m not going to put my mouth on you.” Although I want, holy fuck do I want to. “I heard what you said.”
I brush one finger, very gently, very slowly up her thigh. Her breath hitches.
“Let me touch you, Lex. I’ll be so gentle, I promise.”
She doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t move, doesn’t nod, doesn’t blink. But the catch and release in her breath say yes. They say yes, yes, please.
I trace every hill and valley. I tease and open and caress and worship, and God, of holy fuck God, she’s drenching me. I ghost the gentlest touches over her most intimate places and learn her.
She’s so incredibly beautiful. She’s so wet my gentle strokes glide like I’m running my fingers through soaking wet silk.
I love you, Lexi.
I inch closer. I smell oranges even here, they must be in her soap too. I smell bursting oranges, and female lust, and Lexi, just Lexi.
I get even closer, and the arousal smell dominates and it sizzles something in my brain. A need. A primal, absolute need to taste her.
“Lexi,” I whisper. “I won’t put my mouth on you, but baby, let me taste you. For all that’s holy, I need to taste you.” I dip a finger through her folds and slowly bring it to my mouth and suck.
My brain pops. Some chemical transformation breaks on my tongue, goes up my nose, and fries every brain cell, a hundred little explosions of need attuning themselves and standing up in ovation and saying, ‘Yes! Yes this. This is what you always needed. This was what the universe made exactly for you, only for you, the exact aria composed just for you.’”
I scoop her honey up and feed myself like I’ve been starving, because I have. I suck my fingers and groan her name with my mouth full. “Lexi…”
I touch her, and touch her, and I lick my fingers clean and re-soak them with each scooped honey goodness I manage to shovel desperately into my mouth. “Lexi…” I groan again. “You’re feeding me. You. Are Feeding. Me.”
I draw circles around her clit, careful not to touch it, and she bucks against me, trying to fuck my hand.
“Ryder, please. I need you.”
Her moans and her panting deep sucking in of air are the notes I hear.
I spoon feed myself the sweetest dessert ever made, my girl, her taste on my tongue, her smell in my nose, her moans in my ears, her need in my heart.
“You’re in me, Lexi. You. You feed me. You. All of you. So perfect for me,” I growl.
Lexi digs her nails into my shoulders, urging me on.
I look up into her eyes, and they’re glowing green, filled with wild abandon.
I shake my head no. “Not yet.”
“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” she begs.
“Not yet. Let me take care of you, baby. Let me take care of you. Will you do that?”
She nods, but I can see she has no idea what she’s agreeing to. She’s just nodding because everything feels so good, and she doesn’t want it to stop.
I push her legs open wider. I palm her ass and drag her closer, I breathe on her.
“Uuummm…” she whimpers.
Yes. My girl. Yes.
Her wet heat is my home. This is right, this is us. This is how it should be. Except I should have my mouth on her to taste her.
“Someday,” I mumble.
I slide one finger inside, and she cries an ‘Uhhh’ sound of pleasure that shoots straight up my spine. She squeezes around me and thrusts her hips up.
Her nails did in harder. She nods vigorously. “Yes, more, now, more. Stop teasing me.” “So bossy.”
I gently slide another finger in, and figuring she’s at a place where she can take it now, I let my thumb gently, barely ever so lightly, graze over that swollen button as I pull out and push back in.
She screams and I stop. I know her sounds. I know this was a pleasure scream. An ‘it’s so good it’s sinful’ scream. But I have to be sure.
I pull out and push back in and play with her beautiful swollen nub again as she screams and screams.
“You have to tell me, Lex,” I say, and it’s hard to talk, hard to breathe, because she’s so beautiful, head thrown back, voice singing her way through pleasure, her face twisted in a combination of anguish and bliss.
“Talk to me.” In and out. I stroke in long; she squeezes. I rub gently as I fuck her with my fingers and feel like I’m touching her with my whole heart. “Lexi, talk to me. Talktome. Talk. To. Me. I have to know if this is—”
I widen her legs even more. The synesthesia throws hundreds of sparkly white lines around us in a cocoon, like we’re surrounded by diamonds.
Things can’t possibly get more intense, but they do, as she lifts her hips to meet me with each stroke, desperately squeezing and pulling me into her, riding my hand like she’s chasing the biggest encore on earth.
Yes. Yes. My love, shatter for me baby, please come for me.
She shakes. The trembles start in her chest, making her breasts jiggle, and go down to her belly. Her body heats so high, I feel like she’s burning my hand. Her legs quiver, and then vibrate, and then shake so hard, I’m sure she’s right on the abyss. The energy is a thousand-watt broadcast times a million joules; I can feel it. She hovers, and the energy pouring off her makes the synesthesia blinding. It’s so bright it could light a whole city.
Yes, baby, do it.