Chapter 9 Take Control
NINE
TAKE CONTROL
DALLAS
Lucy pauses for a moment. I want to kick my own ass for suggesting it, especially when she’s still fragile enough that she can easily take my ‘chivalry’ act as rejection.
But I should’ve known better. This is the woman who decided that, after I initially pursued her, she wanted me.
I might’ve flaunted my sweat-slicked chest to get her attention, but she was the one who decided our first time would be in the cab of my truck because she was too horny, too hungry, and too eager to fuck that she gave me head while I drove, ordered me to park, and climbed on my lap the second I did.
Lucy’s delicate features, heart-shaped face, and chin-length blonde hair always made her seem more innocent than she really was.
So maybe she’s lost her memories for the moment.
Deep down, she’s still my Luce. She’s still attracted to me—thank fucking God—and now she’s decided that she has to have me.
How do I know? Because she reaches under the sheet and, instead of playing with my dick, she wraps her fingers around mine, tugging my hand toward her.
I let her, grunting out a ‘fuck’ under my breath as she slips my fingers between her thighs, trailing as much of my skin up and down her slick slit as she can reach.
“Just so you know, Dallas… you might be able to wait. I don’t think I can.”
For a second, my eyes flutter closed. The heat… knowing how wet she is… knowing that she came to me to ease her arousal. Fuck. It takes a man a whole lot stronger than Dallas Collins to turn the woman who owns his heart away like that.
“You want me, baby? Then take me.”
She squeezes my fingers. “You mean it?”
I open my eyes, searching for her in the dark. “Yeah. You’re in control. That way I won’t have to worry about hurting you—”
“You won’t. I know you won’t.”
She has more faith in me than I do. “It’s the only way I’ll do it tonight,” I tell her. I only hope that I’m not lying about that, too. “You take the lead. Do whatever the fuck you want to me, but if you tell me to stop, I stop. Anytime. You got that?”
“Yes.”
I drop down on my back so that she understands she has complete control.
Everything that happens next, it’ll be because she initiates it; it’s the only way I can convince myself that doing this when she honestly believes that I’m her husband is acceptable.
It’s not. I know it’s not. But I’m so far gone that I… I just don’t give a fuck.
I’ve made mistakes. Bad decisions and, with a gun in my hand, pressed to my temples, nearly fatal fuck-ups. This might be one of the big ones that leads me to reach for my Ruger again, but until then, I’m going to enjoy the ride as long as I can.
When it comes to the Lucy I knew, I had an idea about how she’ll approach easing herself.
Never one to forsake her own pleasure, I expect her to shimmy up her nightie, use the headboard to keep her in place, and sit on my face.
My mouth waters, just thinking about how she’ll taste, but that’s not what happens.
Instead, she lowers her head and kisses me, like she’s testing her welcome. As if she honestly believes that I’m only going through the motions out of some sense of duty to my broken wife. Yeah fucking right. The second her mouth touches mine, something inside me cracks wide open.
Five years of restraint. Five years of pretending I didn’t care that she was gone, that she chose another man.
Lucy starts the kiss, but even underneath her, I take complete control of it.
As her lips part and I kiss her deeply, my hands go up, sliding into her hair, pulling her on top of me.
And when she presses herself closer to me, the silk of that red nightdress gliding over my skin, I have to grit my teeth not to flip her onto her back and show her exactly how much I’ve missed her.
I don’t. I can’t. I told her she can do what she wants to me, and as I arch my back again, she breaks the kiss so that she can push me onto the bed.
Once I’m down, she grabs the sheet, tossing it away. I can’t tell how much she can see in the shadows of my bedroom, but her aim is fucking impeccable. Her fingers close around my erection, the gentle touch of her fingers against my heated skin ripping a long groan out of me.
She hisses in pleasure, a sound she echoes as she sits up, throwing her leg over my hips, straddling me. She released her hold on my hard-on as she moved, but once she’s hovering inches away from the head of my cock, she grabs it and uses it to gather all the moisture welling up in her pussy.
“That feel good, baby?” My voice is thick with lust and the amount of effort it takes not to thrust up and hope I find her entrance. “You like controlling your husband by his cock?”
“Mm.” That’s all she says. Mm.
We can do better than that. Just because I told her she can do what she wants to me, that doesn’t mean that—with her hand on my dick—I don’t get to play a little.
Shifting enough to give me space without making it so that Lucy lets go of me, I pull myself up into a sitting position.
My hands go immediately to her waist, pinning her where she is, squatting over me.
She’s in my lap, her tits mere inches away. I duck my head to reach one, using my teeth to nibble her erect nipple through the silk of her nightdress.
Lucy throws back her head as I bite down.
Not to hurt her. Never to hurt her. But I remember how sensitive her tits are, and if she was starting to have second thoughts about fucking me, the moment I let go of her hip and squeeze her tit while still sucking it through the silky material, she shudders and I know that she’s mine.
Her hold on my dick tightens so much, I nearly explode. Hold it, Dal. You haven’t felt Lucy’s pussy around your cock since the night she walked away… if you come too soon and that’s the first impression she has, you’ll have another regret…
I manage to hold on long enough to let her sink down on me.
It’s touch and go there for a moment, I’ll admit.
She’s so fucking hot, so goddamn tight… for five years, I tortured myself, telling myself that there was no way that Lucy’s pussy was as good as I remembered.
I had to have put her on a pedestal because I let emotions get involved, and no matter how many times I tried to fuck her out of my head, I couldn’t.
Now I finally have her where she belongs—in my bed, wrapped around my cock—and I’m forced to distract myself by quickly burying my face in her cleavage, then taking her mouth in another kiss before she’s seated comfortably enough on my length to move.
After that, it’s all I can do not to come inside of her instantly.
Lucy’s body moves slowly, rocking back and forth, getting used to the intrusion of my body in hers.
A soft breath escapes her as she braces her hands on my shoulders, using me to rise up, then fall on me again.
When that doesn’t seem to be enough for her, she digs her nails anywhere she can reach as her hips begin to wiggle.
“That’s right, baby,” I grunt. “You’ve got to remember this.
This cock was meant to be yours.” Telling myself I’m only trying to help Lucy remember anything, I grip her hips again, guiding her to ride me the way only she could.
I follow the motion, never letting her get too far off my cock before I slam her back down on me, our groins flush and our bodies squelching against each other.
“You feel the way I fill you. No one can ever fuck you the way that I can. Even if you don’t remember…
even if you can’t remember… from now on, Luce, that’s something you can never forget. ”
She’s on top of me, taking every thrust I give her because, some time while I was talking, it turned into me fucking Lucy instead of her using my body to get off.
I knew that would happen, even if she didn’t, but I can’t stop myself—and as she falls forward, wrapping her arms around my neck as she moans my name…
my name, Dallas, not Julian… I never want to stop again.
This is it.
This is home.
This is what I should’ve had for the last five years, and now that she’s returned to me, I’ll never let her go.
Panting softly, holding me tight, Lucy starts kissing the side of my neck just like she always used to do. She figured out early on that it’s one of my spots, that if she suckled me on my neck just right, I was putty in her fucking hands, but she’s kissing the left side of my neck.
Whether she knows it or not, she’s putting her lips to the black spade tattoo I got after she left me.
When I finally allowed myself to mourn that she was gone, to grieve that Mom was dead, and that a part of me died, too.
In the five years since, I’ve fought the urge to follow them, no matter how many times I try to tell myself I’m just fucking around.
No. I wasn’t. But with Lucy in my arms again, I have a new lease on life. A reason to live. That black spade is still a part of me, but it’s nothing compared to my Dandelion.
Thrusting up again, I bottom out inside of her. Gasping at how deep I went, Lucy arches to take me. I hold for a second, than pull out enough to allow her to fall forward again so that she can work on giving me a hickey.
I catch the motion of her lowering her lips to my skin. Reaching up, I cup her chin.
“Dallas?”
“Here, baby.” I guide her head to the other side of my throat. “Right here.”
If she wonders why it matters, she doesn’t say.
She goes back to lapping at my skin while I let her settle on my dick.
My body screams at me to move, my cock wanting the friction to finally go off inside of her, but I want this moment to last. If she’d rather neck like we were high schoolers instead of both of us being thirty, fine with me.
Especially since, with the amount of attention she’s giving the right side of my throat right now… maybe it’s time I get another tattoo. A new one, with a far better meaning than the mark of death I’ve worn for five years…
Once she realizes that I’ve stopped fucking her, Lucy starts shifting again.
She hoists herself slightly, keeping her motions shallow so that she’s riding my cock again.
Her gasps become soft pleas, and I reach between us, plucking her clit to give her a little help.
I can sense in the way her body’s gone taut that she needs to come.
That makes two of us, baby.
But, right before either of us get the chance, Lucy bows her head, pressing her forehead to mine.
“Do you love me?” she asks suddenly.
The vulnerability in her voice knocks the air from my lungs.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Once I got to know Lucy…
really know Lucy… it became obvious that she equated sex with love.
A couple of romps? Yeah. That was fine. But to own her body, possess her body…
she wanted there to be a connection, one that we had from almost the beginning.
Do I love her?
“I never stopped,” I vow.
“Not even when I left?”
“Especially then.”
She swallows roughly, and though I’d like to think it’s because of the way I currently have her impaled on my cock, I know it’s more than that.
And then she murmurs, “What if there was someone else? I mean—”
I know what she means. “Look at your ring, Lucy.”
Her head moves as she glances down automatically.
The ring gleams under the dim moonlight.
To Lucy, it’s the simple gold band she woke up with at St. Luke’s.
To me? It’s the replacement that I slipped onto her finger the first night I had her sedated.
Sure, it’s still a stock-standard Order wedding band—for now—but this one came from me.
“You are my wife, baby. You wear my ring. I don’t give a fuck about anyone else.
You got that? I love you. One day, you’ll love me.
And if I have to fuck you boneless every night until that sticks, I’ll do it.
” I take her bottom lip between my teeth, tugging on it before I go in for a kiss that leaves her breathless. “I’ll do anything for you.
“You’re mine, Dandelion,” I murmur. It’s right, using her nickname again. “You always have been. You always will be. Got that?”
She lifts her hand, trailing it between my pecs again. “I don’t know, Dallas, baby. Maybe you should do what you said.” She squeezes my cock with her inner walls. “Maybe you should fuck me boneless.”
It’s the dare. The dare in her voice that is quintessential Lucy Wright. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to control myself when it came to that dare…
Before she can expect it, I do exactly what I refused to do before: I shift our position, laying her out on her back.
Taking one ankle in my hand, throwing it up by my ear, I pump into her pussy until she’s keening.
Only then do I finally let my cock have its way, filling her up with so much come that it’s spilling out of her pussy.
And, well, then I just had to clean her up, didn’t I? Luckily, my tongue was more than up to the job, and if the first orgasm didn’t do a fucking thing to remind Lucy who Dallas Collins really is to her, maybe the second—and the third—one would.
It didn’t, but hell if I didn’t enjoy myself trying.