It Ends with Us
Page 48
“Get on your knees,” he says.
I do what he says and before I’m even adjusted, I feel the cold metal of the stethoscope meet my chest again, this time with his arm snaked around me from behind. I remain still as he listens to my heartbeat. His other hand slowly begins to find its way between my legs and then inside my panties and then inside of me. I grip the couch but try to keep the noises to a minimum while he listens to my heart.
“One hundred and ten,” he says, still unsatisfied.
He pulls my hips back to meet him and then I can feel him freeing himself from his scrubs. He grips my hip with one hand while shoving my panties aside with the other. Then he pushes forward until he’s all the way inside of me.
I’m grasping the couch with two desperate fists when he pauses to listen to my heart again. “Lily,” he says with mock disappointment. “One twenty. Not quite where I want you.”
The stethoscope disappears again and his arm curls around my waist. His hand slides down my stomach and settles between my legs. I can no longer keep up with his rhythm. I can barely even stay on my knees. He’s somehow holding me up with one hand and destroying me in the best possible way with his other hand. Right when I start to tremble, he pulls me upright until my back meets his chest. He’s still inside me, but now he’s focused on my heart again as he moves his stethoscope around to the front of my chest.
I let out a moan and he presses his lips to my ear. “Shh. No noises.”
I have no idea how I make it through the next thirty seconds without making another sound. One of his arms is wrapped around me with the stethoscope pressed to my chest. His other arm is tight against my stomach as his hand continues its magic between my legs. He’s still somehow deep inside me and I’m trying to move against him, but he’s rock solid as the tremors begin to rush through me. My legs are shaking and my hands are at my sides, gripping the tops of his thighs as it takes every ounce of my strength not to scream out his name.
I’m still shaking when he lifts my hand and places the diaphragm against my wrist. After several seconds, he pulls the stethoscope away and tosses it to the floor. “One fifty,” he says with satisfaction. He pulls out of me and flips me onto my back and then his mouth is on mine and he’s inside me again.
My body is too weak to move and I can’t even open my eyes and watch him. He thrusts against me several times and then holds still, groaning into my mouth. He drops on top of me, tense, yet shaking.
He kisses my neck and then his lips meet the tattoo of the heart on my collarbone. He finally settles against my neck and sighs.
“Have I already mentioned tonight how much I like you?” he asks.
I laugh. “Once or twice.”
“Consider this the third time,” he says. “I like you. Everything about you, Lily. Being inside of you. Being outside of you. Being near you. I like it all.”
I smile, loving how his words feel against my skin. Inside my heart. I open my mouth to tell him I like him, too, but my voice is cut off by the sound of his phone.
He groans against my neck and then pulls out of me and reaches for his phone. He pulls his scrubs back into place and laughs as he looks at his caller ID.
“It’s my mother,” he says, leaning over and kissing the top of my knee that’s resting against the back of the couch. He tosses the phone aside and then stands and walks over to my desk, grabbing a box of tissues.
This is always awkward, having to clean up after sex. But I can’t say it’s ever been this awkward before, knowing his mother is on the other end of that ring.
Once all my clothes are back in place, he pulls me against him on the couch and I lie down on top of him, resting my head on his chest.
It’s after ten now and I’m so comfortable I debate just sleeping here for the night. Ryle’s phone makes another noise, alerting him to a new voice mail. The thought of seeing him interact with his mother makes me smile. Allysa talks about their parents some, but I’ve never really talked to Ryle about them before.
“Do you get along with your parents?”
His arm is stroking mine gently. “Yeah, I do. They’re good people. We hit a rough patch when I was a teenager, but we worked through it. I talk to my mother almost daily now.”
I fold my arms over his chest and rest my chin on them, looking up at him. “Will you tell me more about your mother? Allysa told me they moved to England a few years ago. And that they were in Australia on vacation, but that was like a month ago.”
He laughs. “My mother? Well . . . my mother is very overbearing. Very judgmental, especially of the people she loves the most. She’s never missed a single church service. And I have never heard her refer to my father as anything other than Dr. Kincaid.”
Despite the warnings, he smiles the whole time he talks about her.
“Your father is a doctor, too?”
He nods. “Psychiatrist. He chose a field that also allowed him to have a normal life. Smart man.”
“Do they ever visit you in Boston?”
“Not really. My mother hates flying, so Allysa and I fly to England a couple of times a year. She does want to meet you, though, so you might be going with us on the next trip.”
I grin. “You’ve told your mother about me?”
“Of course,” he says. “This is kind of a monumental thing, you know. Me having a girlfriend. She calls me every day to make sure I haven’t screwed it up somehow.”
I laugh, which makes him reach for his phone. “You think I’m kidding? I guarantee she somehow brought you up in the voice mail she just left.” He presses a few keys and then begins to play the voice mail.
I do what he says and before I’m even adjusted, I feel the cold metal of the stethoscope meet my chest again, this time with his arm snaked around me from behind. I remain still as he listens to my heartbeat. His other hand slowly begins to find its way between my legs and then inside my panties and then inside of me. I grip the couch but try to keep the noises to a minimum while he listens to my heart.
“One hundred and ten,” he says, still unsatisfied.
He pulls my hips back to meet him and then I can feel him freeing himself from his scrubs. He grips my hip with one hand while shoving my panties aside with the other. Then he pushes forward until he’s all the way inside of me.
I’m grasping the couch with two desperate fists when he pauses to listen to my heart again. “Lily,” he says with mock disappointment. “One twenty. Not quite where I want you.”
The stethoscope disappears again and his arm curls around my waist. His hand slides down my stomach and settles between my legs. I can no longer keep up with his rhythm. I can barely even stay on my knees. He’s somehow holding me up with one hand and destroying me in the best possible way with his other hand. Right when I start to tremble, he pulls me upright until my back meets his chest. He’s still inside me, but now he’s focused on my heart again as he moves his stethoscope around to the front of my chest.
I let out a moan and he presses his lips to my ear. “Shh. No noises.”
I have no idea how I make it through the next thirty seconds without making another sound. One of his arms is wrapped around me with the stethoscope pressed to my chest. His other arm is tight against my stomach as his hand continues its magic between my legs. He’s still somehow deep inside me and I’m trying to move against him, but he’s rock solid as the tremors begin to rush through me. My legs are shaking and my hands are at my sides, gripping the tops of his thighs as it takes every ounce of my strength not to scream out his name.
I’m still shaking when he lifts my hand and places the diaphragm against my wrist. After several seconds, he pulls the stethoscope away and tosses it to the floor. “One fifty,” he says with satisfaction. He pulls out of me and flips me onto my back and then his mouth is on mine and he’s inside me again.
My body is too weak to move and I can’t even open my eyes and watch him. He thrusts against me several times and then holds still, groaning into my mouth. He drops on top of me, tense, yet shaking.
He kisses my neck and then his lips meet the tattoo of the heart on my collarbone. He finally settles against my neck and sighs.
“Have I already mentioned tonight how much I like you?” he asks.
I laugh. “Once or twice.”
“Consider this the third time,” he says. “I like you. Everything about you, Lily. Being inside of you. Being outside of you. Being near you. I like it all.”
I smile, loving how his words feel against my skin. Inside my heart. I open my mouth to tell him I like him, too, but my voice is cut off by the sound of his phone.
He groans against my neck and then pulls out of me and reaches for his phone. He pulls his scrubs back into place and laughs as he looks at his caller ID.
“It’s my mother,” he says, leaning over and kissing the top of my knee that’s resting against the back of the couch. He tosses the phone aside and then stands and walks over to my desk, grabbing a box of tissues.
This is always awkward, having to clean up after sex. But I can’t say it’s ever been this awkward before, knowing his mother is on the other end of that ring.
Once all my clothes are back in place, he pulls me against him on the couch and I lie down on top of him, resting my head on his chest.
It’s after ten now and I’m so comfortable I debate just sleeping here for the night. Ryle’s phone makes another noise, alerting him to a new voice mail. The thought of seeing him interact with his mother makes me smile. Allysa talks about their parents some, but I’ve never really talked to Ryle about them before.
“Do you get along with your parents?”
His arm is stroking mine gently. “Yeah, I do. They’re good people. We hit a rough patch when I was a teenager, but we worked through it. I talk to my mother almost daily now.”
I fold my arms over his chest and rest my chin on them, looking up at him. “Will you tell me more about your mother? Allysa told me they moved to England a few years ago. And that they were in Australia on vacation, but that was like a month ago.”
He laughs. “My mother? Well . . . my mother is very overbearing. Very judgmental, especially of the people she loves the most. She’s never missed a single church service. And I have never heard her refer to my father as anything other than Dr. Kincaid.”
Despite the warnings, he smiles the whole time he talks about her.
“Your father is a doctor, too?”
He nods. “Psychiatrist. He chose a field that also allowed him to have a normal life. Smart man.”
“Do they ever visit you in Boston?”
“Not really. My mother hates flying, so Allysa and I fly to England a couple of times a year. She does want to meet you, though, so you might be going with us on the next trip.”
I grin. “You’ve told your mother about me?”
“Of course,” he says. “This is kind of a monumental thing, you know. Me having a girlfriend. She calls me every day to make sure I haven’t screwed it up somehow.”
I laugh, which makes him reach for his phone. “You think I’m kidding? I guarantee she somehow brought you up in the voice mail she just left.” He presses a few keys and then begins to play the voice mail.
