Chapter 8: Both of Us

She pushed his jeans down over his hips, and he kicked them off the side of the bed.

Her hand closed around his cock, warm and sure, and he shut his eyes and swore.

"Look at me," Lydia said.

He opened them.

She stroked him once, slowly, from base to tip, and her thumb slid across the wet head.

"You're so hard," she whispered. "Is that for me?"

"It's always been for you."

"Rule one, Ridley. Nobody touches."

"Then stop."

"No."

She was smiling, flushed to the collarbones.

He took hold of the waistband of her pajama pants and dragged them down her legs, and her underwear went with them.

She lay back against the pillow, bare and open, and he stopped breathing for a second.

She was beautiful.

He had imagined her for ten years, and none of it came close.

"You're staring," she said.

"I'm going to do more than stare."

He settled between her thighs and pushed them apart with his hands.

She was wet.

He could see how wet, shining and swollen, and he lowered his mouth and licked her once, long and flat, from her entrance up to her clit.

Her whole body jerked.

"Oh, God. Nolan."

He did it again.

He found the little hard bud with his tongue and circled it, slow, and then pressed.

She cried out and clamped her hand over her own mouth.

"Don't," he said against her. "Let them hear."

"There are forty people in this station."

"Then they'll know."

He slid two fingers inside her, and she was so tight and hot that his cock jumped against the sheet.

He curled them up, and sucked her clit between his lips, and her heels dug into the mattress.

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