Chapter 94: Shattering The Glass **
Ryan didn’t give her a second to register the shift in gravity.
He gripped the slick, wet mess on her hand and used it, spreading the heat between his own palms before sliding his hands directly up the smooth, bare stretch of her thighs.
The midnight blue silk of her dress bunched at her waist.
Zara gasped, her hands flying up to brace against his shoulders as he pulled her forward, dragging her off the cushion until she was kneeling on the floor between his spread legs.
"Ryan," she breathed, her eyes widening as the cold air hit the damp, burning heat between her legs.
He didn’t answer. He parted her thighs, slipping his slick fingers directly against her core. She was soaking. The slickness of his own fluid mixed with her heavy, pooling arousal, creating a frictionless, electric heat.
He pressed a single finger inside her tight, untouched entrance.
Zara’s head snapped back.
A loud, sharp cry bounced off the soundproof glass of the suite. Her nails dug into the fabric of his shirt.
He didn’t push further. He let his thumb find the swollen, aching knot of her clit, rubbing a slow, devastating circle.
Her hips bucked violently against his hand. He added pressure, increasing the speed, mapping the raw, hypersensitive nerve endings she had never let anyone touch.
"You talk so much for a girl who’s never done this," Ryan growled, leaning down, his mouth hovering over hers. "Let’s see if you can take what you ask for."
He dropped to his knees on the carpet, pushing her onto her back. The plush rug muffled the impact.
He didn’t bother undressing her. He shoved the silk dress up to her ribs, exposing the flawless, trembling expanse of her stomach and thighs.
He hooked his hands under her knees, pushing them wide, and lowered his face.
The moment his tongue traced the slick, swollen folds, Zara shattered.
She screamed, her back arching so hard her spine lifted off the floor. Her hands tangled blindly in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for the agonizing, white-hot friction.
Ryan was merciless.
He ate her out with a brutal, focused intensity, his tongue swirling and lapping, drinking the heavy, sweet taste of her while his fingers pumped shallowly inside her tight passage.
She thrashed under him, sobbing his name, completely overwhelmed by the sensory overload.
When her first orgasm hit, it ripped through her like a localized earthquake. Her thighs clamped around his ears, her core milking his fingers in rapid, violently tight spasms.
Ryan pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
He was hard again. Throbbing, aching, painfully rigid against the fabric of his slacks.
He hauled her off the floor. Her legs were completely useless, trembling like jelly. He carried her across the room, bypassing the leather sofas entirely.
He stopped at the polished mahogany bar table lining the side of the suite. He swept a tray of crystal glasses aside with a harsh clatter, clearing the surface, and laid her back against the cold, hard wood.
The shock of the cold mahogany against her heated skin made Zara gasp.
She looked up at him, her chest heaving, her eyes blown wide with a mix of absolute terror and blinding lust.
Ryan stepped between her dangling legs. He freed himself, thick and fully engorged, the tip resting against her slick, swollen entrance.
"Look at me," he commanded.
She forced her eyes up to meet his.
"I know it’s your first time," Ryan said, his voice dropping the aggressive edge, settling into a low, rumbling promise. "I’m going to make sure you enjoy it."
He gripped her hips, anchoring her to the wood, and pushed forward.
He breached the tight, restrictive barrier slowly.
The resistance was real, a physical wall that required steady, agonizing pressure.
Zara let out a sharp, hissing intake of air. Her face twisted, the pain warring with the sheer, overwhelming fullness stretching her apart.
Her hands flew up, her palms flattening against the hard, rigid muscles of his stomach, pushing back instinctively against the intrusion.
"Breathe," Ryan murmured, holding his ground.
He didn’t pull back, but he didn’t force it. He let her body adjust to the invasion, his thumb dropping down to rub a soothing, rhythmic circle against her clit.
"Just breathe. Let me in."
The sharp sting began to fade, melting into a deep, throbbing ache, and then, slowly, blooming into a heavy, intoxicating heat.
Zara’s hands relaxed against his abs. Her fingers curled, her nails dragging lightly against his skin.
She exhaled a long, shuddering sigh.
Ryan began to move.
He pulled back, the friction dragging a soft whimper from her throat, and sank back in. Slow. Steady.
The heavy, wet slap of his hips hitting the mahogany table echoed through the suite. With every thrust, the cold wood chilled her back, while the burning, relentless heat of his cock scorched her from the inside out.
"Fuck," Zara gasped, her head tossing side to side. The pain was completely gone, incinerated by the blinding, white-hot friction. "Ryan... oh my god."
He picked up the pace, his thrusts driving deeper, harder.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, her heels digging into the small of his back, pulling him deeper into her tight, slick core.
The polished, untouchable mask was entirely obliterated. Her face had dissolved into absolute, feral lust.
Her lips were swollen, her eyes half-closed, her mouth falling open to release a continuous stream of filthy, broken moans.
"Look at you," Ryan grunted, slamming into her, the mahogany table groaning under the force. "Millions of people think they know you. They think you’re perfect. Pristine."
He reached out, his hand sliding into her hair, gripping tight.
"No one in the world," Ryan rasped, grinding his hips up into her, hitting the exact spot that made her scream, "would ever imagine the pure, beautiful Zara could make the face you’re making right now."
"Don’t stop," she sobbed, completely indifferent to the degradation. She bucked against him, chasing the brutal impact. "Please, Ryan, harder—"
He gave her exactly what she asked for. He pounded into her with ruthless, mechanical precision.
The sound of their bodies slapping together drowned out the muffled roar of the stadium below.
She was incredibly tight, her untrained walls clutching at him, milking every inch.
The friction was agonizingly good. The pressure coiled at the base of his spine, hot and heavy.
"I’m giving it to you," Ryan growled, his breathing ragged. "Take it."
Zara’s back arched off the wood. Her nails dug violently into his stomach.
A high, piercing cry tore from her throat as her second climax hit her, harder and more violent than the first.
Her core clamped down on him like a vise, spasming relentlessly.
The intense, milking pressure shattered Ryan’s control.
He drove in to the hilt, burying himself as deep as he could go, and let go. He spilled into her virgin heat in thick, heavy pulses, a guttural groan ripping from his chest.
He collapsed forward, his weight pinning her to the mahogany bar. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his chest heaving against hers, their heartbeats slamming in unison.
The stadium lights outside the glass flared, illuminating the ruined, beautiful wreckage they had made of each other.
Ryan didn’t move.
He kept her pinned, keeping the world exactly where it belonged: outside the glass.
"I’m not done,"