Chapter 161

Evelyn POV

His fingers slid inside me, one, then two, curling upward in a way that made me see stars. The pressure built, coiling tight in my core, and I could feel myself teetering on the edge.

My thighs trembled, my moans growing louder, more desperate, and when he flicked his tongue against my clit in a steady rhythm, I shattered. The orgasm crashed over me like a wave, my body shuddering against his mouth, my cries filling the room.

He didn’t stop, drawing out every last pulse of pleasure until I was trembling, my hands pushing weakly at his shoulders, overwhelmed.

He kissed his way back up my body, his lips lingering on my skin, and when he reached my face, I pulled him into a kiss, tasting myself on him. It was strange, intimate, and it stirred a deep, primal urge within me—a need to give him the same pleasure, to show him how much I wanted him.

My hands slid down his chest, fumbling with the button of his pants, my fingers clumsy with a mix of nerves and eagerness. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was doing—oral sex wasn’t something I’d done often.

With Bryce, it had always felt like a chore, something he expected rather than shared. I’d never been confident in my technique, always second-guessing myself, worried I wasn’t doing it right.

But this was Ryan, my husband, the man who looked at me like I was his entire world. For him, I wanted to try, to push past my insecurities and give him this part of me.

“Evelyn,” he said, his voice rough as I freed his cock, hard and thick in my hand. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” I insisted, my voice steadier than I felt. I pushed him back gently, guiding him to lie on the bed, his eyes dark and intense as they watched me. I straddled his thighs, my heart pounding as I looked at him. His cock was intimidating up close, the skin smooth and warm, the tip glistening with precum. I wrapped my hand around him, stroking slowly, trying to mimic the confidence he’d shown. His groan sent a thrill through me, easing some of my nerves, and I leaned down, brushing my lips against the head.

The taste of him was salty, masculine, and not unpleasant. I swirled my tongue around the tip, experimenting, feeling the way his hips twitched in response.

I wasn’t sure if I was doing it right—my movements felt awkward, tentative compared to the ease of his touch—but his low curse and the way his hands found my hair, gentle and encouraging, gave me courage.

I took him deeper, my lips stretching around him, my hand working the base as I tried to find a rhythm. It wasn’t perfect, and I was hyper-aware of every moment, wondering if I was moving too fast or too slow, if my grip was too tight or too loose.

But the sounds he made, raw and unguarded, made my core ache with want, and I focused on that, on the way his body responded to me.

I glanced up, meeting his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes—the way he looked at me with such raw desire—made me feel powerful despite my inexperience. I wanted to make him feel as good as he’d made me feel, to give him this piece of myself, to show him that I was all in, just as he was.

I moved my hand in time with my mouth, trying to be bolder, to lose myself in the act. My jaw ached slightly, and I wasn’t sure how deep I could take him, but his groans, the way his fingers tightened in my hair without pushing, told me I was doing something right.

But before I could push him too far, he tugged gently at my hair, pulling me up. “Not yet,” he said, his voice hoarse with need. “I need to be inside you.”

I nodded, my body thrumming with desire, the ache between my legs reignited by the act of pleasing him. I straddled him again, guiding his cock to my entrance, the slickness from my earlier orgasm easing the way. I sank down slowly, gasping at the stretch, the fullness of him inside me.

It was intense, almost overwhelming, but I rocked my hips, finding a rhythm that sent sparks of pleasure through me. His hands gripped my hips, guiding me, and I leaned forward, bracing myself on his chest as I moved faster, chasing the heat building within me.

The connection between us was electric, raw, and I felt my body climbing again, the pleasure coiling tighter with every thrust. Ryan sat up, pulling me against him, his lips crashing into mine in a kiss that was all heat and desperation.

His hands roamed my back, my ass, pulling me closer as he thrust up into me, hitting that perfect spot inside. I moaned into his mouth, my nails digging into his shoulders as the tension built higher, my body trembling with the promise of release.

“Ryan… I’m close,” I gasped, my movements frantic, my hips grinding against him. He thrust harder, his cock driving deep, and I shattered, my orgasm ripping through me with a force that left me trembling, my cries echoing in the candlelit room.

He followed moments later, his groan muffled against my neck as he came, his hips jerking as he spilled inside me, our bodies locked together in the intensity of the moment.

We collapsed together, breathless, our bodies tangled in the sheets. The candlelight cast soft shadows around us, and Ryan’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me close.

My heart was full, my body sated, and as I lay there in his embrace, I knew this was only the beginning of our life together.