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The pleasure was so intense, it was hard to breathe, hard to move, and impossible to think.
Sliding his hands beneath her so that they cupped part of her ass, while spanning her hips, he began to push in and then pull out, again and again, he drove deeper and deeper before withdrawing until only the engorged head of his cock was still inside her.
“God, yes,” she moaned, wrapping her legs around him as he began to stroke in and out, harder and harder until he was pounding into her. Every cell in her body responded to him as if she would never get enough. She clung to him, her nails flexing into the flesh of his back.
He whispered in her ear. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
Slowing down, he kissed her deeply before resuming the pace he had set. One, two, three, he pumped harder and harder. It was difficult to keep her eyes open and she released her grip on his back, moving her hands up to his hair and threading her fingers through it. He continued to move still faster, thrusting so hard and deep, her body felt like it was going to levitate off the bed. She reached up over her head, grasping the headboard.
The headboard began hitting the wall and she was glad it was not a shared wall with another room. There would be no way for anyone to mistake the rhythmic bouncing back and forth. Once. Twice. Nothing had ever felt like this. She wondered if she would survive and realized she didn’t care. It felt so good, she wanted to scream, but bit it back.
“Scream for me, baby.”
She could feel the orgasm building to a crescendo inside her. “Ryker,” she cried as he hammered her pussy so hard that it was hard to breathe as her climax crashed down around her.
“Good girl,” he said, his breathing heavy as he gave a final deep thrust, grinding against her as his body stiffened and he gave a guttural groan.
Ryker collapsed on top of her, giving her the weight of his body before rolling to his back, slipping from inside her, and pulling her close.
Lying still and literally basking in the afterglow of what had been the most amazing sexual encounter of her life, Lori mused without thinking, “I wonder if there’s any significance to the fact that Cobain was strangled with a vintage typewriter ribbon?”
Ryker went absolutely still, and she wondered if she’d horribly insulted him. But that was how her brain worked. They’d had great sex, and now they were back to solving the murder. When he didn’t say anything at all, she started to worry.
Then he started to guffaw. “Baby, we’re really going to have to work on your post-coital pillow talk. But in answer to your question, I would think yes. It’s not like someone would just be carrying it around.”
Apparently, Ryker could switch gears just as quickly.
CHAPTER 11
LORI
“Well, you have to admit, it’s kind of an oddity. I mean, who even uses vintage typewriters anymore?” asked Lori of no one in particular.
“I’m not saying you don’t have a point, but can we just talk a minute about what just happened or at least cuddle here for a minute?” There was a bit of an awkward silence before Ryker laughed. “Well, enough of that.”
Ryker rolled out of bed, pulling on his pants and tossing his shirt to Lori, who pulled it on, grabbed a scrunchie she had by her bed, and pulled her hair back. Ryker sat in the chair and motioned her over, pulling her onto his lap.
“I suppose making a joke about breaking your leg would not go over well,” she mused.
“It might get you spanked…”
“Ooh, ropes and spanking… kinky!”
He shook his head and pulled the scrunchie from her hair. “You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?”
“And then some,” she teased, feeling far more relaxed than she thought she should be.
Lori grabbed her laptop, balancing it between her, Ryker, and the arm of the chair. She googled ‘vintage typewriters.’
“There’s a place here in Bleak Ridge that advertises antique typewriters and supplies. It’s a shop called Everything Vintage.”
Ryker nodded. “I recognize the name. I think it’s here on the main drag, but I’ve never been inside. I didn’t know they had vintage typewriters.”
“They don’t open until ten, and I have to be here at the conference.”
“That’s not a problem. I have some things I have to do. Are you free for lunch? I can swing by and pick you up.”
“That’ll work.” Not knowing what else to say and not wanting to feel clingy, she squirmed a bit on his lap.
