He seemed to mull that over, then sighed. “Me too. Let’s go downstairs.”
This was crazy. Annabelle wanted to object as she followed Ryan to the stairwell, where they climbed the stairs up to the next floor. When she’d written that list, she hadn’t planned on actually doing any of the things on it. Fantasized about them, sure, but doing them? Again, crazy.
Yet her heart was pounding wildly as Ryan dragged her down the fluorescent-lit corridor of the respiratory ward, and her knees shook when he discovered an empty closet and ushered her inside. Darkness instantly engulfed them, but she could make out a metal rack stacked with boxes of…she squinted…latex gloves. Ryan followed her gaze and laughed. “Can I please, please f**k you while wearing latex gloves?”
“You are a sick man.”
He encircled her waist with hands and bent down to nip at her neck. “Think about how cold and slimy it would feel.”
“I am a firm believer that sex should not be cold and slimy.”
Ryan’s mouth moved from her neck to her jaw. He kissed his way to her mouth, his morning stubble tickling her chin. They both froze at the sound of muffled footsteps, but whoever it was walked right past the closet. “Are we really going to do this?” she whispered.
He took one of her hands and placed it directly over his crotch, which sported a thick ridge of arousal. “Hell yeah.”
Annabelle sighed. “Fine, do your worst.”
“My best, you mean,” he murmured as he slid his hand between her legs.
He stroked her gently, as if he had all the time in the world, but Annabelle was very much aware of their surroundings. “If we do this, we do it fast,” she murmured back.
“If you say so.”
Before she could blink, he spun her around so that she was facing the wall, as he ground his lower body against her ass. She moaned, the delicious friction causing a ribbon of pleasure to uncurl through her body and settle in her aching core.
Ryan reached around to cup her br**sts, his breath warm against her neck. “Hey, I just thought of something,” he said, sounding delighted.
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“We can cross off numbers two, four and eight, all at once. It’s the trifecta…the perfect storm, if you will.”
It was hard to concentrate on his words when his hands were fondling her br**sts. He meant the list, obviously. She strained to remember the items. Sex in public, sex standing up, and…her face heated up. Oh right. From behind.
“I’ve gotta tell you, babe, I’m loving this list of yours,” he rasped, sliding his hands down her belly to unbutton her jeans.
He didn’t take them off, just let them fall down to her ankles, and then his hand was between her legs, stroking the crotch of her panties. Annabelle’s entire body was on fire. The dark closet, the sound of footsteps out in the hall, Ryan’s talented fingers poking underneath her panties to rub her clit…it all aroused the hell out of her.
“Close your eyes,” Ryan whispered.
She obliged, listening to the sound of plastic tearing—he’d remembered to bring a condom—and then a zipper hissing open. A moment later, she felt his c**k pressing between her ass cheeks, teasing her puckered hole. Her heart did a somersault. For a second she thought he would venture into the forbidden, but to her relief—and odd disappointment—he moved aside the crotch of her panties and pushed into her wet core with one smooth thrust.
God, it felt good. She tried to think about the last time she’d made love to Bryce, tried to remember if it had felt as good as this, but her brain promptly stopped functioning as Ryan began to move.
It didn’t last long at all. Four, maybe five strokes, and then she was coming, a fast, pounding orgasm that seem to come out of nowhere. Annabelle gasped as pleasure rocketed through her. Her br**sts tingled, her clit throbbing as waves of ecstasy pulsated in her core. She ground her ass against Ryan, milking him, taking everything she could get, and his husky groans heightened her pleasure.
His fingers dug into her waist as he pistoned his hips, f**king her hard, his balls slapping against her ass with each deep thrust.
“Fuck,” he wheezed, and then he released a harsh cry and shuddered inside her.
She loved feeling him come, loved the guttural sounds he made, the way he nuzzled her neck, heating her skin with his ragged breaths. She wanted to cry out in disappointment when he finally withdrew, leaving her empty and sated and wanting more. So much more.
It had never been this way with Bryce. Never.
Her legs were still shaking as she bent down to pull up her jeans. She buttoned them up, turning to face Ryan. His blue eyes glimmered in the darkness, satisfaction etched into his handsome features. He removed the condom, tossed it in the metal garbage can near the door, then zipped up his pants and stepped toward her.
“So…was that fun?” he teased.
A breathy laugh exited her mouth. “Oh yeah.”
Chapter Five
“So what do you want to watch tonight?” Ryan asked, holding up two DVD cases.
From her spot on the couch, Annabelle snorted. “Rambo one or Rambo two? Seriously, those are my options?”
“It’s my pick, remember?” he said defensively. “Last night I sat through P.S. I Love You. I think my sperm count dropped in half.”
“Don’t worry, you looked very manly when you teared up.”
“I did not tear up—”
“You did!” she chortled. “Right after Gerard Butler died. It was like ten minutes into the movie.”