6. Alani
Alani
Is this really happening?
The entire trip up, I convinced myself that Dean wasn’t jealous. That he was growing tired of me already.
The man doesn’t look tired. He looks impatient.
He couldn’t even walk to his bedroom or mine. Instead, he carried me over to the couch, sitting me down ever so gently before crashing down to his knees.
“Tell me what you need me to take care of.” His words come out rough, messy. Like he doesn’t even have the patience to wait for my answer, his hands smooth up my thighs.
I can feel the calluses of his palms catching against my jeans, the heat of his fingers soaking through. Back and forth, he adds a little pressure with each stroke so my thighs fall open a little more.
We both know the answer, but he wants me to say it out loud.
I spent three years harboring my feelings, lacking the courage to put three words on paper without scribbling them out with flushed cheeks.
Now he expects me to tell him how much my pussy is aching for his touch? That I want him to be the one to help get me off instead of relying on my own hand?
How embarrassing. Even more with him tucked between my legs, looking up at me with a hunger in his eyes that is beyond consuming.
Every shift is uncomfortable. I can feel the fabric clinging to my soaked folds. I’m getting to the point where I’m ready to be the one to rip them off to find some relief.
Pursing my lips, I reach to unbutton my jeans underneath his gaze. My tongue is twisting in all sorts of knots, making it impossible to speak and hard to breathe. Despite pulling down the zipper and opening the flaps, I find no relief.
The heat only continues to build.
“ Dean .”
His jaw flexes with the way I whine his name. He likes me when I’m this needy.
Gliding one of his hands up, he doesn’t continue rubbing my thighs to tease me. Instead, his hand stops right at the top before he squeezes hard enough to throb. Then, his thumb strokes the teeth of my zipper. “Right here?”
Biting my bottom lip, I nod. If my blush could grow any hotter, I’d give the sun a run for its money.
A groan rumbles from deep within his chest, primal and unrestrained.
In one swift motion, he yanks me to the edge of the couch, the sudden movement wrenching a gasp from my throat.
His grip on my hips is ironclad, fingers pressing into my skin like he’s memorizing the shape of me.
Then he leans in, nostrils flaring as he inhales deep right where I’m aching for him.
“Fuck.” The word is a growl, vibrating against my damp skin.
“You smell mouthwatering.” His lips brush the soaked fabric of my underwear, the contact so light it’s torture.
“I’ve dreamed of knowing how you taste. Tell me, are you gonna be sweet like sugar?
” A hot exhale fans over me, making my hips jerk.
Oh my god. How long has he fantasized about this? The thought alone sends a fresh surge of wetness between my legs, but before I can form a response, his fingers hook into the band of my jeans.
In one ruthless pull, he strips them down my legs, the denim scraping my skin. A ragged sound tears from his throat—something between a snarl and a moan—and the vibration of it travels straight to my clit, making another whimper leave my lips.
Pants gone, he looks at my underwear like he wants to grip the thin strip and pull until the fabric gives out.
I want him to. So much that I get the courage I need to slide a hand between my thighs and pluck at it. Lifting just enough that he can see the tease of pink hiding beneath.
“Rip it,” I breathe, the words barely more than a whisper.. My fingers tremble against the damp lace, tugging just enough to make the fabric strain.
His eyes flash with satisfaction, a slow smirk curving his lips. “Fuck, Alani. Say it again.”
I swallow, my pulse fluttering under his gaze. “Please, rip it. I need you to—”
He doesn’t let me finish. With a rough growl, his fingers hook into the delicate fabric, and with one sharp pull, he tears it apart.
The sound is obscene, the sudden exposure even more so.
A gasp punches from my lungs as cool air kisses my bare skin—but his warmth follows instantly, his hands spreading my thighs wider.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with hunger. “Soaked already. Fucking dripping for me.” His thumb swipes through my folds, gathering the proof of my need, and I jerk against him with a whine. “Pretty little pussy, all pink and mine.”
The possessive tone weighing down his words is far heavier than the jealousy in his eyes earlier. So heavy, my body shakes beneath the gravity of it.
I nod, frantic, my hips lifting shamelessly toward his touch.
He groans, dragging his knuckles through my slick. “No one has touched this pussy before, have they? Three years, you didn’t let anyone near you.”
Why would I? I’ve been crushing on this man since his first response. I was too busy refreshing my email and checking my mailbox to worry about any guy.
Dean has owned my heart from the very beginning.
He leans in close, his breath tickling my clit. “Did you save yourself for me, sweetness?”
The purr of his voice is like a physical touch. Throw in the pet name, and I’m melting into putty. He might as well be pressing firmly against my clit, a rotation with every word that leaves his lips.
“Y-Yes.” I stutter, the word catching. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”
The words feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest. Too much time has passed without saying it out loud.
“I want you—” My thighs tremble as I spread them wider apart, “—to take care of me.”
As soon as the words leave my lips, it’s like a switch has been flipped within him. His mouth is on me before I can consume another breath of air, hot and relentless, his tongue dragging slowly and teasingly through my slick.
I arch off the couch, fingers twisting in the cushions, but he pins my hips down with firm hands, refusing to let me squirm away from the pleasure.
A low groan vibrates against my clit, and I whimper, legs shaking. Then—the sound of his zipper. The rough shift of denim. My breath hitches as I realize what he’s doing, even though I can’t see.
But I feel it. The wet, open-mouthed kisses against my entrance slow just enough for me to catch the soft, choked sound he makes—the way his breath stutters against my skin as he strokes himself.
I imagine his fist working his cock, the way his hips must be rocking slightly, desperate for friction. Is he imagining it’s me wrapped around him instead of his fingers?
Another wave of heat comes crashing over me. My walls flutter around his tongue in both jealousy and anticipation. I don’t even know how far we plan on taking this, but I know where I want it to end.
I’m so freaking greedy, it’s not even funny. I don’t just want his mouth. I want it all.
Suddenly, he pulls back. Like he’s a mind reader, he stares up at me with pupils blown wide.
My vision swims as I blink down at him, dazed. His lips glisten, slick with my arousal. His mouth is still curved, morphing the fluttering butterflies in my stomach into burning embers.
And there—his cock, hard and flushed in his grip, precum beading at the tip.
He swipes his thumb over it, gathering the slickness, and my stomach clenches when he brings his hand between my legs. The pad of his finger brushes against my entrance, teasing, testing, the damp heat of his touch mingling with mine.
“Tell me,” he murmurs, voice rough. “Do you want my cock?”
I whine, hips lifting, but he doesn’t give me what I crave—not yet. He’s so demanding to hear me say the words, but he doesn’t get it.
I don’t trust my voice. If I open my mouth, a confession stands a better chance of rolling off my tongue than the answer to his question.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t rush to move until he gets what he wants.
“I do.” Breathless, I nod quickly enough to make my head spin. Or, maybe it’s the way he grins that makes the world tilt.
My pussy clenches when he presses his thumb inside, mixing his slick with mine.
His grin turns wicked, and I feel the shift in his energy—the slow drag of his thumb as he leaves my pussy empty and wanting.
“You do?” he repeats, voice dark with amusement. “Say it properly.”
My breath hitches as he flicks his tongue over my sensitized nub, continuing her tease.
I gasp, nails digging into his shoulder. “Yes, I want it. I want your cock.”
He hums in satisfaction and pulls back. “Need you ready, first. After that, it’s all yours, Alani. Always has been.”
I have no idea what he has planned, but I know he’ll take his sweet time doing it.