8. Dana
Dana
I knew I was making one of the worst decisions of my life.
I knew it the moment he’d kissed me and I didn’t push him away, knew it in the forty-minute car ride out to god-knows-where, knew it as I stepped onto the gravel driveway and looked up at the monstrosity of the home before me.
It was like something out of Beverly Hills or Malibu, tucked into the corners of the mountains.
A massive estate with floor-to-ceiling windows, large, ornate pillars, expertly maintained shrubbery, and a goddamn infinity pool.
I knew it when he’d taken me inside and the double staircase took up half of the foyer. I knew it when he’d lead me up the stairs and through the winding halls, when the double doors to his massive bedroom opened up, when my dress hit the floor.
He kissed me hungrily, his hands grasping at my waist and jaw as if he were afraid I’d run.
I wondered why he hadn’t brought me here a year ago, wondered if he even owned this then, but in fairness we were so desperate at the time that it probably wouldn’t have even fazed me.
Now, though, as the doubts and worries sunk into the pit of my stomach, I couldn’t help but notice how different this house was.
This place, this home, didn’t smell of booze. He didn’t smell of booze. He hadn’t had a single drink the entirety of dinner, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was planning on drinking like last time after I’d fallen asleep.
My decision to go home with him may not have been the best one but I was lonely.
I was a single mom, constantly on the go, too busy for men and their bad habits to consider taking time for myself.
But I wanted, needed , to feel desired. I hadn’t slept with anyone since Cole, and with memories from the last time he’d fucked me still fresh on my mind, I knew he’d do a damn good job of making me feel like I was more than just a one-night stand. Even though that’s what this was.
His mouth left mine to explore my neck, his heavy breaths warming my skin. My fingers traced the lapels of his suit coat and latched on, pushing it back and over his shoulders. It fell to the ground in a heap beside my dress.
“This is a bad idea,” I gulped, but I didn’t let it stop me. I pulled on his tie, freeing it, and dropped it. I plucked open his buttons, my knuckles grazing the warm, hard skin beneath.
“Tell me to stop then,” he rasped, his teeth sinking into my skin with a nip of pain before he soothed the ache with his tongue. “I’ll drive you back. Just say the word.”
“I don’t want you to stop.”
“Good, because I don’t want to,” he replied. One hand gripped the side of his shirt and pulled, popping and freeing the remaining buttons. They littered the floor as he pushed the fabric from his chest.
Fuck, he still looked amazing.
His muscles had shrunk since the last time I’d seen him, but they were still there, hard as stone and rippling out from under his skin. I dragged my fingers along them, resisting the urge to kiss, lick, and bite the way he loved to do to me.
He sprang into action the moment I took his belt in my hand.
“Don’t even fucking think about it,” he snarled, his arm cupping me beneath the shelf of my ass, lifting me up.
Before I could get too comfortable, I was falling, landing firmly on my back in a heap of plush sheets.
His hands pushed me down when I tried to sit up, then they were moving around my chest to free the clasps of my black strapless bra.
He tossed it somewhere behind him then focused on my black lacy panties, pulling without an inkling of warning, and discarding them just as quickly. “I need to taste you.”
His hands wrapped around the backs of my thighs and pushed them upward at the same moment he fell to his knees.
A wave of self-consciousness hit me. In my year of celibacy, I’d grown an entire baby and pushed him out of me.
I’d spent some time looking in the mirror and noticed that the color around that area had changed a bit.
I also knew from personal time with myself that I didn’t get wet as easily as I used to.
If he noticed any of it, though, he didn’t let on.
His mouth closed in on me, licking and nibbling at the inside of my thighs. I wanted this. God, I wanted this. I didn’t care if I regretted it tomorrow morning or immediately after. The words he’d said to me a year ago didn’t fucking matter.
Just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, he finally found his way to my aching clit, sucking it into his mouth. The movements from his lips and tongue, the nibbling on my thighs, had caused me to grow wet and his saliva seeping into my folds added delicious extra lubrication.
I breathed out a moan as his fingers slid inside of me. I’d been too nervous after childbirth to put anything up there, not even a tampon, and the one time I’d done it had resulted in a bit of bleeding. The feeling of it was almost otherworldly from how long it had been.
“You moan so pretty for me,” he mumbled, his words muffled from how full of me his mouth was. His fingers curled up, pressing on that godsend of a spot inside of me, drawing sounds I hadn’t made in over a year.
My hand knotted in his hair, pulling at the strands, needing something steady to hold on to.
Over and over, his tongue dragged over my clit, nipping and sucking at the little bundle of nerves, and far too quickly I was falling over the hurdle of my first release.
My thighs closed in on his head as my body spasmed, my breathing stagnant, and good god he kept going, pulling me through every wave and drowning me in it.
He only stopped when my legs fell away from him.
“I need to be inside you,” he rasped, his eyes wild, his pupils dilated so far I could barely see the hint of green. Without saying another word he stood, stepped around the side of the bed, and opened his dresser, fumbling for something I couldn’t quite see.
“Cole,” I breathed. My voice was weak and broken, my vision hazy. I wanted more and fuck, what was taking him so long?
He turned and shut the drawer, something I couldn’t quite make out in the low light in his palm. I blinked through the fog of my orgasm and watched as he dropped it on the bed next to me.
A bottle of lube.
My chest tightened. He’d noticed. But he didn’t seem to have a problem with it.
He took his trousers off, his tight, black boxers hugging that magnificent bulge of his. Just above the hemline, two lines were carved down his lower stomach, forming a deep V that pointed exactly where I was desperate to see and feel.
He pushed me back further onto the bed and came over me, freeing himself from the fabric and kicking it off. His cock sprang to life against my pubic mound. Long, girthy, veiny, with a hint of reds and purples at the glistening, dripping tip.
My mouth watered.
“I haven’t been able to stop imagining this,” he rasped.
He plucked the bottle of lube from beside me and popped the top, pumping a glob onto the top of his shaft and another just below my clit.
It was freezing, but his hands warmed it quickly, rubbing it around the entrance and pushing it inside as his other hand spread it over himself.
“Remembering what you sound like. How much you’d been aching for me. ”
I gulped as his tip pressed against my opening. “Is it what you hoped for?”
“It’s fucking better.” Hands pressed my legs back, positioning me perfectly, just like he had that first night. “It’s so much fucking better.”
Slowly, gentler than he was before, he eased himself inside of me.
The sting of the stretch hit me immediately, and as I sucked in air through my teeth, he paused, leaning down to kiss me as his knuckles rubbed against my clit.
“Sorry,” I mumbled against his lips. “It’s been a while. I’m a little, uh, out of practice.”
He sank to his full length, burying himself so deeply that I couldn’t imagine a world where I wasn’t full of him. “I’ve got you, baby.”
He made me feel like I was melting.
Once I’d finally stretched enough to accommodate him easily, he finally began to move. Blinding pleasure bloomed in my veins, and oh my god , I missed this. I missed this so goddamn much. All of him, the way he touched me, the way he moved inside of me.
He kissed and fucked me voraciously. It was as if something snapped inside of us, something that made us want—no, need—more.
His thrusts were devastating, the perfect angle and pace, and with every shift of my hips it felt like we were building something more than just a release inside of each other.
His mouth assaulted my own, his tongue exploring every inch of me, and the moment his fingers returned to my clit I knew I was fucking done for.
“Fuck, Cole,” I moaned, my back arching and forcing my lips to part from his.
He dropped his head lower, kissing and nipping at the skin of my breasts.
Shit, shit, shit, please don’t go for my nipples.
Please. I didn’t want to think about the possibility of leaking onto his tongue.
It was a miracle they hadn’t fired up when he was kissing me; thankfully I had pumped before dinner.
His lips closed in over the peak, and I panicked.
My hand flew to his throat, forcing his head up. I pulled him back up to my face, absentmindedly wiping away any potential residue on my hand and trying to disguise it as self-pleasuring. “They’re sore,” I lied, my cheeks heating astronomically.
He nodded, lost in his own need, and I thanked my lucky stars that he didn’t push any further. Instead, he kissed me, burying himself in me over and over, and within seconds, I was rapid-firing closer and closer to another orgasm.
“I’m close,” I whimpered, my nails digging into the skin on the back of his neck.