7. Dean
Dean
The couch creaks beneath her as she shifts, her thighs trembling under my touch. I stir between them, the old floorboards groaning under my weight, the sound loud in the quiet room.
My cock aches in my hand, already so fucking hard, already begging to be inside of her—but I give myself a rough squeeze, holding back. Not yet.
One finger sinks into her slowly, her breath hitching, her body clenching around me like a fist. Her nails dig into the couch cushions, her head tipping back. I watch her face—memorizing every gorgeous feature—as I push deeper, curling my finger just right.
Her eyes pinch shut, and her lips part, another delicious sound leaving her lips.
She’s so fucking tight.
I stroke that spot again, slow and deliberate, and her hips jerk. She bites her lip, trying her hardest to keep all these sounds to herself.
I can’t have that. I want them all for myself.
Adding a second finger, stretching her, there’s no stopping the next moan from leaving her lips. She’s so wet, so sensitive, every little movement making her squirm.
Leaning back in, my tongue flicks over her, light at first, then firmer, until she’s panting, her back arching off the couch. So sensitive over the lightest of pets.
She won’t be able to contain herself once I’m thrusting in deep, sandwiching her body between mine and the furniture.
The floor creaks as I shift, my free hand stroking myself in time with the thrust of my fingers. I’m so hard it hurts—but watching her come apart is worth every second of the ache. My fingers grip tighter, using my precum to keep my motion steady.
After waiting all this time, it’s a miracle I haven’t shot my release against the couch. Instead, I’m leaving my knuckles slick, the thought of pushing inside her keeping me grounded.
Another thrust of my fingers, another curl, and I know she’s ready. Hearing the warning signs of her approaching orgasm, I listen to her groan next as I pull back.
I want her first orgasm to occur once she’s sheathing my cock.
Moving to stand, I reach behind me. Feeling like the entire room has grown hotter, I grip the back of my shirt and yank it off.
Alani sucks in sharply, taking in the dips of my chest. Even if I have twenty years on her, she looks at me like I’m not a day older than her. Amazed, aroused, all of the above. Hell, she even reaches out to touch my stomach.
Her thumb traces a scar below my ribs. An old injury I got while I was serving. Then her eyes flicker down, like she’s just now remembering my cock is right there in front of her. Her eyes go round.
Her lips part slightly, a soft exhale escaping as she stares. I can see the hunger in her gaze, the way her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip—like she’s already imagining the taste of me.
The urge to push into that pretty little mouth is almost unbearable. Almost.
I catch her chin between my thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up to mine. Her breath hitches, pupils blown wide.
“Later,” I growl, the promise rough in my throat.
I step back, just out of reach, and her hands drop to the couch, gripping the cushions like she’s stopping herself from reaching for me again. The look of need on her face fuels my arousal.
I shove my jeans down, taking my boxers right with it. Her gaze follows every movement, her chest rising and falling faster.
“Still want this?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
Alani doesn’t speak. She just nods, slow like she’s in a daze.
Moving to sit down, I pat my thigh. “Come here.”
She doesn’t hesitate. Alani crawls into my lap, her thighs bracketing mine, warm and soft against my hips. The second she settles, I groan—the heat of her pressed right against me without anything separating us now.
I grip her waist, grinding her down just to hear the sharp little gasps she makes each time her clit nudges an inch of my length. “That’s it, just like that.”
All she’s doing is grinding against my erection, and it’s enough to make her hips jerk. At this rate, it’s like I’m punishing her.
In all truth, I don’t want this to end. If I make her fall apart too soon, I risk tuckering her out.
I drag her shirt off her body, the fabric catching just for a second before it gives way, baring her to me.
Her bra is simple, delicate—nothing fancy, but it frames her so damn perfectly it might as well be lace and silk.
My gaze drops lower, to the tattered remains of her panties still clinging to her hips, shreds of what they used to be, to see her undergarments match rather well.
Unlike her underwear, I won’t destroy her bra. I’ve gotten this far, I can wait a little longer and act somewhat civil.
My hands move behind her, fingers finding the clasp of her bra with practiced ease. One flick, and it loosens. She shivers as I peel it away, letting it fall somewhere forgotten. And then—fuck—there they are. A perfect set of breasts, full and begging for my touch.
“Look at you,” I murmur, my voice rough. My hands claim them, palms fitting against her curves like they were made for me.
I lean in, pressing a kiss to the warm skin between them, feeling her heartbeat kick under my lips. Her breath hitches, fingers tangling in my hair as I drag my tongue up, tracing the valley between before moving higher.
I lick a slow stripe up her throat, tasting salt and nerves, and she arches into me with a gasp.
When I reach her mouth, I don’t hesitate—I crush my lips to hers, swallowing the little moan she lets out. She kisses me back just as hungrily.
I could kiss this woman until my mouth lost all feeling.
Her thighs hug mine tightly, her pussy pressing firmer. Here I am worried about keeping my patience, and I haven’t considered that she might lose hers.
I curse against her mouth when one of her hands moves between our bodies. Her fingers grab my cock as she lifts onto her knees.
I can’t make her wait any longer.
Her eyes snap to mine, lips parted around a shaky breath as I brush her hand away, taking over. Guiding her down, my cockhead pressing against her, and the second she sinks onto me, I swear my vision goes white.
She’s so fucking tight. Hot. Clenching around me like she’s trying to milk me dry already.
I hiss through my teeth, forcing myself to stay still, to let her adjust. But she doesn’t want patience—she rolls her hips, taking me deeper like she doesn’t realize what she’s doing, and I lose it.
Never had a cock in her life, and she takes me in like a fucking champ. Doesn’t hesitate, like she doesn’t know any better. So warm and wet, it’s all one smooth slide.
One thrust, and I’m buried to the hilt. Her moan is ragged, nails biting into my shoulders as she arches. I can feel every pulse of her around me, every hitch of her breath.
Then comes the sound of pain. Like her body catches up with her, she stills.
“You’re doing so well,” I muse, fighting a war not to lift her back up so I can get some kind of friction. Right now, it just feels like I’m suffocating. “Relax for me, sweetness.”
She tries, but her walls flutter around me. She tries to shift, and her fingers dig deeper. “You’re really big.”
Resting my head back, I can’t tell if I want to laugh or let her compliment go to my head. “First time is the hardest. Next time, it’ll be better, I promise.”
“This time is perfect,” she argues, pouting her lips. Makes me want to kiss them again. “Just do this. Touch me here.”
She grabs my hand, moving my fingers to her clit. There’s more demand in her voice, and I think I come a little in return.
Once she realizes the power she has over me, I’m going to be a goner.
Circling her clit, I’m the one to moan when she starts to move.
“Oh!” Lifting, she sinks back down just as smoothly. “ Oh .”
No matter what, I need to last longer than her.
Her hips roll with a mind of their own, each movement measured. A soft, breathy gasp escapes her as she rises, then sinks back down, taking me deeper. The wet, sinful sound of her body welcoming mine fills the air, mingling with our ragged breaths.
“Dean— oh my. " Her voice trembles, fingers digging into my chest as she grinds in slow, torturous circles. My fingers never leave her clit, tracing tight, relentless patterns that make her thighs quiver.
She whimpers, her rhythm faltering for just a second before she finds it again, riding me harder to the point of working up a sweat.
Every slide of her body is pure heat, pure need. The slick noises between us only spur her on, her moans climbing higher, louder. I grit my teeth, fighting to hold on, to outlast her—but the way she moves, the way she takes what she wants, makes it damn near impossible.
Her head falls back, a broken cry tearing from her throat as her walls start to flutter around me.
This is it. This is what I’ve been waiting for.
My fingers move faster, punishing the nub. Moving my free hand to her hip, I guide her body to move quicker.
“That’s it, Alani. Fuck—I need to hear you when you come.”
Her body betrays her—the way her walls flutter and grip me, the way her hips stutter against mine—but that’s not enough. I don’t just want to feel it.
I need her voice breaking, that sharp little gasp before she cries out. I need the sound of her pleasure unraveling, raw and unfiltered. Just the thought has my cock throbbing, my balls drawing up tight. I grit my teeth, holding back by sheer will alone.
And then—there it is.
A broken sob tears from her throat, her body clamping down on me like a vise as she shudders. Her orgasm crashes through her, every tremble, every desperate clench dragging me deeper. I can’t hold back anymore.
With a growl muffled against her skin, I bury myself to the hilt and let go. Pleasure erupts, white-hot and relentless, as I spill into her, my hips jerking through the aftershocks.
Painting her pussy in white, she collapses against my chest, and we both fight for air.
Her breath is still ragged against my chest, her body warm and pliant beneath me. I press a kiss to her damp forehead, my fingers tracing lazy circles along the curve of her spine.
“You okay?” I murmur, my voice rough.
She lets out a breathless laugh, her fingers curling against my shoulder. “More than okay.”
I shift just enough to see her face—flushed cheeks, dark lashes fluttering, lips parted in the aftermath. My chest tightens with something I can only accept as love that’s been building.
“Good,” I say, brushing my thumb over her bottom lip. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”
She arches a brow, but her eyes spark with amusement. “Oh? And what else did you have in mind?”
I grin, giving her body a squeeze. “A shower. A better attempt at lunch. And then—” I kiss her, slow and thorough, savoring the way she melts into me. “—we try to make it to my bed. No, our bed.”
She hums against my lips, her fingers threading through my hair. “I like the way you think.”
A warmth I’ve never been lucky enough to experience floods through me. When she pulls away and I take in her flushed expression, three words burn in my thoughts. Three words that are already forming on my tongue.
When her mouth quips up, that smile of hers plucking at my heartstrings, I know there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to leave this couch without her knowing how I feel.
“I love you, Alani.”
She stills for a heartbeat—then lifts her head, her eyes soft and shining. Looking amazed, her smile stretches. “Say it again.”
I cup her face, my thumb stroking her cheek. “I love you.”
Her smile is brighter than anything I’ve ever seen. “I love you, too.”
Just like that, I know I don’t have to worry about her going anywhere. She’s mine, forever and always.