“What does it mean that I don’t care if she does?” He presses his tip to my entrance, and I immediately press my ankles to his back. “I want to drown in her. I want to be eaten by her. I want …”
“To kiss me?” I wrap my hands around his neck and pull him down until his lips are inches from mine, and his legs tremble while holding his body rigid. “Or to fuck me?”
“Oh, do you know how sexy you sound when you talk dirty?” His cock pulses at my entrance. “Such a pretty lady in an eveninggown, such a sensual dancer on the field, and such a dirty mouth in the bedroom.”
“You’ll feel what my dirty mouth can do if you don’t finish what you’ve started,” I warn, bucking my hips to catch him. “You know what I want. I know what you want. Why not put both of us out of our …”
He thrusts once, burying his cock to the hilt and I almost hear angels celebrating. This can’t be wrong. No bloody way. Dylan makes love to me, holding my body into position so he can twist and turn me at will, testing my reaction for each position, before finding our groove.
Slowly, he builds me. I can’t remember another man ever bringing me to multiple orgasms in one session, but Dylan refuses to stop at one … or two. With his fingers working my clit, he brings me undone while pumping into me, my cries lost in his kiss. I’m spent, but it takes him seconds to bring me back as he smothers my face in kisses, my body in caresses. He works along my sensitive skin, laying a trail of feathering kisses until reaching my faded bruise.
“May I?” he asks, still thrusting. “I want you to wear me. I want you to look in the mirror and remember me. But, I’m asking for permission … may I?”
If he waited another minute, I’d be beyond caring. By timing it to between orgasms, I’m thinking as clearly as I can while naked with this man.
“Yes, but only while I come.”
“Deal.”
Dylan gives me the perfect blend of pleasure and pain, bringing me to my third orgasm while he claims his first, while his lips brand me as his.
I’m so going to hell … and he’s worth the risk.
Hours later, with remnants of grilled salmon and salad back on the trolley to be cleared away, we lay tangled together, the city lights casting soft patterns across the walls. I need to go, but I can’t even summon the energy to check my phone.
Dylan traces lazy circles on my bare shoulder, and it’s all I can do not to climb back on top of him for another round. He is insatiable, and I’ve never felt this free with sex. I’ve never felt this comfortable saying or demanding what I want.
I’m not ready for this moment to end, but I need to get home before Sage gets ready for bed, and I need to check my emails for the latest monthly therapy reports. Then, there is the assignment due at the end of the week and more readings for tomorrow’s online lecture.
Okay, my post-climax buzz ends with my list of things to do. I carefully untangle my limbs from around Dylan, slip out of bed, and start gathering my clothes. Dylan props himself up on one elbow, watching me with a lazy smile.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, his voice husky. “If you don’t want to stay here, we can go back to mine.”
“Gee, you’re still awake,” I tease, faking shock.
“Gee, you’re a comedian,” he deadpans back. “We’ve got all night. You don’t have to leave.”
“Yes, I do.” I keep my voice as forceful as I dare, not wanting him to talk me around. “It’s a big day tomorrow. I have to get home and get some beauty sleep.”
He sits up, his expression turning serious. “What if I want you to stay?”
My resolve wavers until I remember Sage. “What if I want to leave while you want me to stay, rather than me stay while you wish I’d get the hell out of your bed and give you space?”
“What if I hate saying goodbye to you?” His voice and face is deadly serious. “But if you have to, I need you to know that Ineverwant women to stay. I’m the guy who calls a cab. I’mthe guy who doesn’t make promises or asks for a second date. Ineverwant a woman to stay, but I don’t wantyouto leave.”
Wow. Talk about an unexpected truth bomb. “We still need to talk about the fake dating.” I hold his gaze, my voice barely above a whisper. I don’t want to ruin the moment, but I need to know who those women are and why.
“And, we still need to talk about why you left that morning,” he counters. “At first, you leaving hurt my pride. Now, I need to know what it will take for you to stay.”
I nod, he deserves a variation of the truth, but not tonight. All I can promise him tonight is another date. “Over coffee?”
“Name the place and time,” he says.
“I need to check my work schedule,” I say, pulling my dress over my head and slipping back into my shoes, all while avoiding mention of my study or sister.
He drops the sheet, stands, and pulls me in for a full-body hug and a kiss that I feel down to my toes. “Try not to dream of me,” he says, opening the door so I can leave, and not giving a damn who sees him in all his glory.
“Challenge accepted.” He knows it’s a challenge I’ll lose.
