DON’T STOP

Taking her innocence 7

Ryder

When she whispered “I will”, it felt like a secret she wasn’t supposed to share.

The two small words, and they hit me harder than a kick from a spooked horse. My chest tightened. I could feel my pulse hammering in my throat, in my wrists, everywhere. For years I’d been numb down there—cold, useless, like part of me had died and nobody noticed. Doctors called it stress, trauma, or whatever bullshit label fit the bill. I called it punishment. Then Lila showed up, all wide eyes and city softness, and one accidental touch in the dark hallway last night had cracked something open. Just like that. Hard again. Alive again. And now here she was, legs trembling apart for me in the front seat of my truck, skirt hiked up, breath shaky, trusting me not to break her.

I didn’t deserve that trust. But damn if I wasn’t going to earn it.

I kept my eyes on her face the whole time. I couldn’t look away. Her cheeks were flushed deep pink, lips parted, and those big eyes darting between mine and the windshield like she didn’t know where to land. Innocent. Scared. Wanting. Every flicker across her expression pulled at something deep in my gut—protectiveness mixed with hunger so raw it scared me.

“Easy,” I murmured against her ear, keeping my voice low and steady even though my own hands were shaking a little. “Breathe for me, sweetheart.”

She nodded, small and quick. Her fingers were still curled into my shirt at the shoulder, holding on like I was the only thing keeping her from floating away. I liked that. Too much.

I slid my hand back between her thighs, slower than slow. No rushing this time. I’d already hurt her once; the sound of her soft squeal and the way she’d pushed at my chest still echoed in my head. Never again. Not if I could help it.

My thumb found her c**t first—gentle circles, barely any pressure, just enough to remind her body what pleasure felt like without overwhelming it. She gasped softly, hips twitching forward on instinct. Good. That was good. I watched her face the whole time: the way her lashes fluttered, the tiny crease between her brows when the sensation spiked, and the way she bit her lip to keep quiet even though we were alone out here.

God, she was beautiful like this. Vulnerable. Open. Mine to take care of.

I kept the rhythm steady, letting her get used to it. Her breathing changed—shallower, faster. Little whimpers started slipping out, soft and needy. Each one went straight to my c**k, making it throb painfully against my jeans. I ignored it. This wasn’t about me. Not yet. She’d already given me more than I had any right to ask for.

When her thighs started trembling harder, I let two fingers rest at her entrance again. No pushing. Just pressing lightly, letting her feel the promise without forcing anything.

“You okay?” I asked quietly, thumb never stopping its slow circles.

She nodded, eyes glassy. “Y-yes. Please… don’t stop.”

Those words nearly undid me. I swallowed hard, throat tight. “Tell me if it hurts. Anytime. Promise?”

“Promise,” she whispered.

I eased one finger inside first slowly, watching her face for any sign of pain. She tensed at first, inner walls fluttering around me, but then she exhaled shakily and relaxed a fraction. Good girl. I curled just the tip, stroking that soft spot inside while my thumb kept working her c**t in lazy, patient loops.

Her moan was louder this time, broken and sweet. Her head fell back against the seat, eyes squeezing shut. “Ryder…”

Hearing my name like that. That desperate whimper sent a jolt through me. I leaned in, pressing my forehead to hers for a second, breathing her in. She smelt like vanilla shampoo and warm skin and something sweeter, something that was just her arousal. It was driving me insane.

“You’re doing so good,” I told her, voice rougher than I meant it to be. “Just let it build. Don’t fight it.”

Her hips rocked now, small, helpless movements chasing my hand. I added the second finger—careful, gentle, pausing every half-inch to let her adjust. She whimpered again, but this time it wasn’t pain. It was need. Pure, aching need.

I kissed her neck softly, then grazed my teeth there the way I had before. She arched, fingers digging into my shoulder. “Ah…”

“That’s it,” I murmured against her skin. “Let go for me, Lila. I’ve got you.”

Her breaths turned ragged. Her thighs clamped around my hand, trembling violently. I felt her start to tighten around my fingers—clenching, fluttering, pulling me deeper. Her whole body went stiff for a heartbeat, then shattered.

She came with a soft, surprised cry, her back arching off the seat, head thrown back, and hands clutching my shirt like she’d fall apart if she let go. I kept my touch steady through it all, drawing it out, coaxing every last shiver until she was gasping, boneless, eyes fluttering open in dazed wonder.

I didn’t pull away right away. I stayed there, fingers still inside her, thumb resting lightly against her oversensitive c**t while her aftershocks rippled through her. Watching her come back down was almost as good as watching her fall apart. Her cheeks were flushed, lips swollen from biting them, and eyes soft and glassy, like she’d never felt anything like this before.

Because she hadn’t.

I pressed a slow kiss to her temple, tasting salt on her skin. My own body was screaming, my c**k so hard it hurt, my heart pounding like I’d run a mile, but I shoved it all down. This moment was hers.

“You alright?” I asked quietly.

She nodded against my shoulder, still catching her breath. Then, in the smallest voice, “That… that was…”

“Yeah,” I finished for her, a low chuckle rumbling out despite myself. “I know.”

I finally eased my fingers out, carefully, wiping them discreetly on my jeans before smoothing her skirt back down over her thighs. She shivered at the loss but didn’t protest.

We sat there in the quiet cab, engine still off, afternoon sun slanting through the oaks. Her hand stayed on my shirt, fingers loose now, like she wasn’t ready to let go completely.

I stared straight ahead at the empty fields, trying to get my own breathing under control. She’d trusted me. Let me in. Let me give her something no one else ever had. And all I could think was how badly I wanted to do it again. And again. Until she forgot every rule her parents ever taught her.

But I also knew I had to be careful. She was still new here. Still figuring out the ranch, figuring out me. I couldn’t push too hard, too fast. Not when she looked at me like I might be the best and worst thing that ever happened to her.

I turned my head and caught her eye. She was watching me too—shy again, but with a new softness there.

“Next time,” I said quietly, “we go even slower. You tell me everything you want. Everything you’re scared of. Deal?”

She swallowed, then nodded. A tiny, brave smile tugged at her lips.

“Deal.”