Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
IS THIS MY LIFE?
DAHLIA
Dylan and I are a tangle of hands and tongues and snow as we rush into the house.
Once we’re inside, he leans me against the wall and kisses me until I’m breathless.
I need more of him. All these layers are in the way, and I just want to touch his skin.
He feels the same way because, before I know it, my coat is coming off.
I don’t hesitate to take his off too, our lips quickly finding their way back to each other.
He smells like crisp air and evergreens. His lips are full and soft. He has some scruff too, and I love the way it tickles my mouth and chin. He tastes like sugar and lemons and champagne, and I want to eat him up.
“You taste so good,” he says against my lips.
“So do you.” I don’t even recognize my voice—it’s hoarse and full of need.
“Too many layers,” he groans.
He kicks off his boots, and I do the same. He takes off his snow pants and has black thermals on underneath. They show off his sculpted body in vivid detail, and I feel a bit woozy. He’s the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.
I unzip my snowsuit just a little bit, and he kisses his way down my neck.
I whimper and feel his smile against my skin.
“Dylan,” I whisper.
He looks up at me, and I bite my lower lip, hesitating for only a second. The only guy I’ve been with is Christian, and it was a long, drawn-out game for him to get me in bed.
I want this. I’ve only just met Dylan, and I’m more comfortable with him than I’ve been with anyone. I lower the zipper past my waist, and his eyes light up when he sees I only have my underwear on underneath.
“Hot pink,” he says, his eyes drinking me in. “I wondered what color was underneath the gray.”
That makes me smile. “I like to mix it up.”
“It’s working,” he says. He waves his hand over his body. “You’ve got my insides all mixed up.”
I laugh. “Not what I meant, but good.”
“You have no idea how beautiful you are. You can’t possibly.”
I take his hand and tug him toward me. His other hand goes inside my snowsuit and feels huge around my waist. My eyes fall shut with just that little bit of contact.
“Tell me what you want, Dahlia,” he whispers.
I bury my face in his neck, shy but craving him too much to stop now. “I’m not used to saying what I want,” I say softly.
He tilts my chin up so our eyes meet. “We’ve been able to talk to each other easily, right?”
I nod.
“Let’s keep that up, only even more so, okay?” He leans his forehead against mine. “I can tell you what I’m thinking first, if that helps.”
“Yes, please.”
“I’m loving whatever this is between us. I want you so bad it hurts. But I don’t want to do anything to mess anything up because I really want to see you again.”
“I want to see you again too.”
“Okay, then we will,” he says, smiling.
I love his smile and his raspy voice and those eyes…
“And we don’t have to rush anything,” he adds.
“No, but…”
He waits for me to keep going. I swallow hard and sink my hands through his hair, my thumbs rubbing his neck. He groans and tugs my body flush against his. When I feel how hard he is, I’m glad he’s gripping my side—my insides are like jelly.
I lean on my tiptoes and whisper in his ear, “I want you to take me upstairs. We can figure out the rest of whatever this is another day. Let’s be snowed in together under the covers.”
“I love this plan,” he says.
He slides my snowsuit off my shoulders, and I step out of the pants. My socks are next, and once they’re off, his hand slides under my ass and he lifts me up. My legs wrap around his waist, and he puts his arms around my body as he walks us through the house.
“Are you cold?” he asks.
“You’re warming me up.”
He grins and carries me up the stairs like I weigh nothing. We go down the long hallway and into a large bedroom with a king-size bed.
“Is this your room?”
“Yeah, I haven’t been to this house in a while…none of us are here much right now. Except for Opal—she’s cleaned the house since my parents first moved in here, and she still comes every week.” He pulls the comforter back. “In other words, these sheets are clean.”
“Not for long,” I say and immediately blush.
He laughs and lays me on the bed. The pillows are plush, and the sheets are soft.
“Are you talking dirty to me, Dahlia?”
I laugh and shake my head.
“Please do,” he says.
He takes his shirt off. His arms and chest are so defined, and his six-pack is drool-worthy.
I have to consciously shut my mouth because it fell open.
Did all that surfing create this perfection?
Wow. I watch wide-eyed as he takes off his thermal pants.
He has black boxer briefs underneath, and there’s such a huge bulge there, it’s shocking.
He stares at me, his thumb reaching up to slide over his bottom lip.
I watch every move he makes with fascination.
“You’re even more beautiful lying in my bed,” he says. “Can I see you? All of you?”
I lean up and unhook my bra, enjoying the way his breath catches when he sees me. It makes me bold. I slide my panties down my legs, and he curses.
“Are you even real?” he says. He slides his hand over his face. “Damn, Dahlia. I’m in over my head.”
“Come here,” I say.
When he’s within reach, I slide his briefs down and his cock pops out, bobbing against his stomach. I can’t breathe at first. He’s too perfect. But in the next second, he’s hovering over me, and his mouth is on mine. My senses pop like fireworks.
He kisses his way down my neck, and then his hands and mouth are on my breasts. When his tongue makes contact with my nipple, I arch into him and he groans.
“You are so fucking hot, Dahlia. I could come just touching your tits and hearing your sexy little gasps.”
He worships them so thoroughly, tugging and licking them until they’re hard little pebbles.
My nipples are so sensitive that when he starts sucking them, I nearly come too.
One hand stays splayed over my breast, and the other moves to my hip as he kisses his way down my stomach.
He gives my nipple one more pinch before both hands widen my thighs.
He stares at my center and then looks up at me. I lean on my elbows to see him better.
“Such a pretty pussy and clit,” he says reverently.
I cover my eyes with my hand and jump when he kisses the inside of my thigh.
“Don’t be shy,” he says. “I want to spend some time here. Are you okay with that?”
I whimper and peek between my fingers. “I…are you sure?”
He laughs. “Yes. I have zero doubts.”
My hand drops.
“If you must,” I say, and he laughs again.
“I won’t if you don’t want me to, but I really, really want to.”
“I just don’t usually quite get there with…oral.” God, I’ve never talked like this. I felt progressive just thinking the word cock. I could never say it out loud.
He kisses the inside of my other thigh. “If something isn’t feeling good, tell me.”
“Oka—”
My voice cuts off midway through the word because when his tongue makes contact with my core, all of my attention goes there.
He kisses and licks and sucks me so intently, I can’t think straight. I am a mess. A writhing, moaning, sex-crazed mess.
I think I say, “What are you doing to me?” multiple times.
I hold on to his hair for dear life. When his fingers start dipping in and out, his tongue flicking my clit, faster and faster, in the most excruciatingly perfect rhythm, I have an out-of-body experience.
My orgasm barrels through me, and I shudder against him, my head falling back as I cry out his name.
I can’t even be embarrassed when he eventually works his way up my body, and our eyes meet again.
“Every part of you tastes so fucking good,” he says. “It took every ounce of willpower in me not to come when you did. God, you’re incredible.”
“That was…you are…” I manage to get out.
His hand tweaks my nipple, and I feel it between my legs.
I lean up and kiss him deep, tasting myself on his tongue.
I move my hand between us and slide it over his length, up and down.
He’s long and thick and feels like velvety steel.
He closes his eyes for a second, and when he opens them, his gaze is intense.
“What do you want, Dahlia? Tell me.”
I rub the drip of wetness from his tip onto my seam, and he curses. I’ve never been this bold in my life.
“I want you inside me…if…you want to.”
He laughs softly. “Trust me, I want to.”
He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a condom. I watch as he slides it on, nerves and anticipation fighting for first place.
He barely nudges the tip inside, and it’s already so good.
I haven’t had sex since before Chloe was born, and he’s so big that I’m a little apprehensive it’ll hurt, but I’m so sensitive from the magic he worked with his tongue that I feel ready.
He takes his time, kissing me, slowly dipping in, sliding back out, rubbing over my clit, and dipping back in.
All shallow movements that drive me out of my mind.
My legs shake as I try to take him deeper each time, but he teases me and slides out again and again. He stares at where he’s entering me, and I lean up, my nipples rubbing against his chest.
“Mmm,” he moans. His head falls back, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Dahlia. You’re so wet. So warm. So tight. You feel so fucking good. Is this okay?” He focuses again on me, his hand coming up to smooth my hair back.
“You feel…too good to be true.” I gasp when he goes a little deeper.
“I was thinking the same about you,” he says. “You feel this too, right? This between us…this connection?”
“Yes. It’s terrifying. And amazing.”
“I know.” He grins and goes deeper.
We both gasp.
“More,” I whisper.
My chest is tight, my body coiled. I should be content after coming so hard, but I feel primal as he keeps up that unrelenting slow pace. His skin is fevered.
“Look how perfect we fit,” he says. This time, when he slides out, his glide back in is painfully slow, but he keeps going and going until he’s as deep as he can go.
We both inhale and exhale slowly, staring at each other. He twitches inside me, and I clench around him. We both groan, so in tune that it’s hard to know where he ends and I begin.
“I want to feel you come around me. So bad,” he says. “But I also don’t want it to end.”
He sounds strained and so sexy that I flutter around him again.
“Mmm, sadly, I’m not going to last forever like I’d hoped.” He grins and squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m really glad you fell in my lap.”
I lean up and kiss him and start swiveling my hips underneath him.
And then we begin to move.
It’s a whole other dimension.
I have a single-minded focus: meeting him thrust for thrust. It’s like a dance, and we’re intently learning the choreography as we go. It’s beautiful and messy and chaotic and feels so unbelievable, I can hardly believe it’s happening to me.
He can feel it when I’m on the edge.
“Are you close?” he rasps.
“Yes.”
Our skin is slick as we move faster and faster.
“Come with me,” he says.
We don’t let up on our rhythm, and when it hits me, it hits me hard.
“I’m coming,” I cry.
He curses, his movements choppy as he pulses inside of me. We ride out that endless wave together.