Catching Bianca: A Dark Mafia Romance (Shadows of Obsession Book 4)
Catching Bianca: Chapter 26

Ryder hangs over me, the intensity of his stare warming me up from the inside. I’ve never felt this satisfied, and we haven’t gotten to the main event yet.

I never felt this free, either.

Dismantling my defenses wasn’t easy, but giving into Ryder’s dominance lifted a huge weight off my shoulders.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, brushing my hair over my ears.

“That I don’t like your clothes being on,” I automatically lie, then cringe. “No, that’s not it, though you should be naked now. I was thinking about how good yet scary it feels not to keep myself wound up so tight.”

“Why scary?”

I scrutinize the ceiling, searching for the right words. “I’m wide open… I never leave myself wide open because the few times I have, I ended up hurt.”

His fingers clasp my chin, those full lips coming down on mine, the kiss slow, gentle, but full of unspoken passion. “I won’t hurt you. That’s a promise.”

“Only time will tell.”

“You have trust issues, don’t you?”

“If you’d been let down as many times as I have, you’d feel the same.”

He hovers over me, either waiting for more words, or processing what he’s heard.

“We can unpack that later. While you’re still nice, mellow, and not one bit defensive, I’d like to make good on my word and fuck you through the mattress. Anything to say about that?”

I close my fingers around his neck. “Yes. Strip.”

He climbs off the bed, standing at the foot as he starts undoing the small buttons of his white shirt.

With every inked inch of his chest that emerges, my pulse climbs higher. I’ve seen him shirtless. I see him shirtless every morning, but it’s different now he’s about to strip off his pants.

“You’re a sight,” he tells me, roving my body as he pulls his belt through the hoops in one tug.

“Right back at you.”

The zipper’s next and the sound of it sliding down amplifies my desire. I rise on my elbows, my breath halting in my lungs.

“Shameless,” he tuts, pulling his pants and boxers down his muscular thighs.

I swallow hard, staring at his hard cock. The length is scary enough on its own, but coupled with the girth… no wonder I was sore for two days after he shoved that monster inside me.

It’s a miracle it fit without rupturing something.

He climbs onto the bed, leaning over me, his mouth latching onto mine in a bruising kiss. I reach between us, grasping him at the base to check my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me.

They’re not. He’s thick. The tips of my fingers barely meet while I stroke him up, up, up… it’s a long way to the top.

“We need lube,” I mutter. “You’ll rip me open with that.”

He smirks, sucking my bottom lip. “That’s already been inside that tight pussy of yours without ripping you open. You’re drenched, Bianca. There’s a wet patch on the sheets to prove it, but if you want lube, you’re getting lube.”

He straightens again, reaching into the nightstand drawer.

He moves between my legs, squirting a hefty amount of the clear gel over my pussy. He spreads it everywhere with two fingers, coating my entrance, pushing some inside, and smearing the rest over his length.

Finally, he gets in position, the anticipation coiling around my neck like a gloved hand. His lips hover over mine, and his hips angle until he’s perfectly aligned.

“Relax. I promised I wouldn’t hurt you. Not in bed, not out of it. I’ll give you three minutes to adjust.”

“And after that?”

“I’ll make you scream.” He pushes his hips forward, filling me, eyes glued to mine.

For a man who promised to fuck me through the mattress, he’s extraordinarily careful.

Air leaves my lungs in a long, shaky puff when he bottoms out inside me. Ryder groans, his arms bending at the elbows. He falls lower, the warmth of his chest seeping into my skin, the taut muscles brushing my nipples. He pulls his hips back, simultaneously taking my lips in a deep, erotic kiss.

I grasp his shoulders, pulling him in, a feverish need consuming me whole. I want more. Closer. Deeper.

He pulls out and pushes back in, the tempo steady, slow, careful… but it doesn’t stay like that long.

Once he’s thrusting with ease, my pussy stretching to accommodate his size without anything snapping, Ryder hooks my knee over his shoulder. I feel the lack of exercise from that eight-month-long celibacy in my thigh muscle burning as he leans over me again, his mouth in the crook of my neck.

“Ready for me?” he asks, kissing and nipping the sensitive spot below my ear.

He’s balls-deep, holding still, one hand in my hair, the other spreading me open wider.

“Make me scream.”

I feel him smile before he inches back, his forehead dropping to mine as his hips retreat.

He powers forward, the thrust so intense I’m scooped up the bed. He does it again. And again. Over and over, he gains momentum, then eases up every few thrusts to push in as deep as possible, then resumes the frantic tempo.

My moans fill the room; my hands grasp his back, his arms, his head. Our lips replace each other rather than falling apart. We’re kissing, then he’s sucking my lip, then I’m biting his shoulder. I arch back, not far off crawling out of my skin.

This is more than I’ve ever experienced. Every thrust sends ripples of pleasure through my system. My orgasm builds and Ryder’s everywhere. His breath fans my forehead, cheeks, lips. His hands hold on to my hip, waist, throat, and again, from the top.

“There, right there,” he tuts against my forehead, lifting his head enough to watch me. “Right there, Bianca. Don’t hold it. Come for me. Show me how good this feels.”

Another five thrusts while his dark eyes stare into mine, and the orgasm rattles through me, so potent my ears ring. I bow off the bed, clinging to him, my leg, the one draped over his shoulder, shaking uncontrollably.

“Oh, oh… God… this… it’s—” My words dissolve into a mewl when the orgasm crests.

“God’s not here. You’re welcome to worship at my altar instead, Winter.”

I grasp his shoulder, unsure whether I want to shove him away because he’s still moving, prolonging the high that’s almost unbearable, or if I want to yank him down and feel the full weight of him over my clammy body.

His fingers sink into my flesh as he holds me in place, the tempo of his hips rocking against me never faltering.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you come.”

The rasp in his voice, the hunger there, sends butterflies through my veins. Their wings flap, making me tremble harder than the aftershock of the orgasm.

Grasping my waist, he flips me over, straddling my thighs. His long cock pokes me from the back. We’re both misted with sweat, warm to the touch.

“Again,” he demands, leaning over me.

He doesn’t give me time to come down from the high. He doesn’t finish, either. I thought he’d follow me into the inviting abyss the moment my legs stopped shaking…

He doesn’t. He thrusts in slowly, his lips hovering over my forehead, and then he straightens up, unhooking my leg from over his shoulder.

“I don’t think I can go again,” I mumble into the pillow.

Ryder huffs, the sound amused as his cock slides back into me. He gathers my hair into a ponytail, angling my head so I’m looking over my shoulder at him.

“You’ll go again. You’ll come as many times as I want you to, and you’ll take it like the good girl I know you can be.”

He sinks to his full length inside me, the new position allows him to drive in even further. The head of his cock drags along my G spot, and I see stars on every thrust.

“This is too much,” I whisper, fisting the sheets. “I can’t take much more.”

“You can. You will.” He resumes the frantic, deep thrusts that scoot me up the bed and pulls my hair, making me arch until I have to brace on my elbows. “Look at you,” he grunts, one hand on my hip, the other grasping my throat, fingers splayed wide open. “Taking every inch like a good girl. Who knew you’d be so good at submitting?”

His parted lips hover by my ear. I feel every hard breath, hear every grunt and every growl vibrating his chest. I could come just listening to the sounds he makes. Primal, feral… like a hungry beast that’s trapped its mate.

“I want another one, Bianca. Don’t hold it.” His chest brushes my back every time he hits home, the friction so impossibly perfect it makes my head spin.

I love the way he changes the tempo. He moves fast for a few thrusts, then pauses so deep I feel him in my tummy, and his consequent moves are calmer, slower.

It’s like he wants every millimeter inside me, like he can’t get deep enough. The sensation, the pace change, is overwhelming. It makes me want to crawl under his skin and stay there.

Another orgasm rumbles through me. Before I stop moaning, I’m on my back again. Ryder drinks every sound I make, moving my limp hands to his back. He forces my legs around his waist, and pushes himself into me, our kisses growing more desperate. Just like his hands skimming my face, my waist, my hips.

It’s a battle. A battle of desire and a race for pleasure. As if there’s money riding on how fast he can get me off.

“Fuck,” he grunts, burying his face in the crook of my neck. “You’re perfect, baby.”

A whimper leaves my lips. The sensory overload makes me feel like I’ve left my body. I want more and I want to rest. A war rages inside me, one part dreading the end, one dying to curl myself into his chest and sleep. I’m balancing on the tightrope between reality and oblivion when the next orgasm builds.

It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

His exhales drift over my cheeks, my temple, my forehead. I’m drowning in his closeness, in those frantic movements, in the desperation to touch, feel, and exist this close.

My eyes water. I’m overstimulated. I don’t know where’s up and where’s down. Every time he hits my G spot and pushes me closer to another orgasm, my body tingles, the sensation bordering on pain.

Pleasant, all-consuming pain.

“Enough,” I rasp, dragging my fingers down his back when the next orgasm threatens to knock me out. “Please…”

“Shh,” he hums, kissing my forehead, his fingers tucking my hair over my ear. “Shh… it’s okay, you’re okay.” He fucks me harder, my back not far off making a perfect U. “Just one more. Give me one more and you can rest.”

I nod, pulling him down for a kiss, but my lips don’t work. Ryder gathers me into his chest, holding me close, his body pressing into me, his cock powering inside like his life depends on making me come again.

The orgasm floods my senses, and his moves become jerky. He hits so deep I yelp and cling to him, drowning in my release. Everything ceases to exist. My vision turns black. I can’t feel anything save for his body against mine, his warmth, the overwhelming feeling of being stripped bare.

It’s as if my nerve endings are on display, every brush of his skin sending ripples of unbearable pleasure through my system.

The low grunts in my ear and erratic jerks of his hips tell me he’s found his high, too.

And then, as frantic as this experience was, everything stops. My chest rises and falls, every breath delivering enough oxygen that I balance on the verge of consciousness. Ryder’s still on me, still inside me, our bodies molded together.

“Hey.” He drags his mouth up my cheek then across my forehead. “How are you doing, Summer?”

My heart swells three sizes.

No longer Winter.

No longer a cold, heartless bitch.

“I think I died and went to heaven…” I admit, then after a beat I add, “Or hell… I’m not sure.”

He chuckles, stamping a kiss on the tip of my nose. He rolls away, and gathers me to his chest, draping the bed sheets over us.

I feel his lips in my hair, small soothing kisses that go perfectly with his fingertips, ghosting the length of my spine. The smell of sex, sweat, his cologne, and my coconut lotion mixes on his skin. I bury my nose into his chest, inhaling the heady scent.

My eyelids grow heavy, sleep pulling me under. I can’t remember the last time I was this spent. Not even sleepless nights at Noretto’s mansion drained my anger this satisfactorily.

The cocoon Ryder weaves around me now, that undeniable safety he surrounds me with, relaxes every muscle in my body. Not that many were still tense after that wild ride.

The last thing I’m aware of are more of Ryder’s kisses.