Chapter 25
25
Dexter
The harsh vibration from my phone buzzing on the coffee table jolts me awake. But when I try to sit up, I realize my arm is pinned down. I start to tug at it when I see it’s Lucy who has my arm pinned against the couch cushions. Her head is resting on my bicep, where her hair is fanned over her cheek. She nuzzles closer to me, making me lie back down and abandon getting up all together. I stretch my free arm toward my phone where it’s still buzzing and circling a little dance on the hard surface, flicking it closer to me with my fingertips.
“Hello?” I croak.
“Dexter,” Charles calls from the other end. “Did you get some sleep?”
“Uh, yeah. A few hours, I think.” I peek down at Lucy, and she hums a sweet sigh against my chest. “What time is it?”
“Just after eleven.”
Shit. I didn’t mean to sleep in this late. It was supposed to be just a quick power nap so I could get back to the hospital as early as possible. I even forgot to set an alarm. When the reason for my brief oversight starts to shift beside me, my body softens. I sigh through a smile and watch the way Lucy’s lashes flutter and her lips twitch. What’s a few stolen moments with the woman I’m slowly falling for and a couple of extra hours of sleep? We both needed the rest anyway.
“I’m getting up right now. I’m going to head over to the hospital in a bit,” I say in a hushed voice, hoping I don’t sound too suspicious to Charles. I brush my cheek against Lucy’s forehead before giving into the urge to press a kiss to her temple.
“I’m here now. Janet wanted a few things from home, so I’m going to head back out after lunch,” he explains. “I’ll only be an hour or two, but I was thinking maybe you could keep her company while I’m gone.”
“Yeah, of course. Just give me a minute to shower, and I’ll head right over.”
“Great, thanks.”
I hang up and chuck my phone back onto the coffee table. When the clack of my phone rattles through the room, Lucy jolts awake.
“Sorry.”
She rubs her eyes and lifts her head. “What time is it?”
“Eleven. It’s still pretty early considering we didn’t get to sleep till after seven,” I answer.
She shakes her head, looking a little disoriented, and slumps back into my arms. “Were you talking to Janet?”
“Charles. He was wondering if I could come to the hospital so I can keep Janet company while he runs back home to get a few things.”
She nods against my chest and smooths her hand along my stomach before tucking it under my back. “I don’t want to get up yet,” she murmurs into my shirt.
I chuckle. “Then stay here. I’ll be back.”
She shakes her head and mumbles a muffled “mmhh” into my side. She grips my waist harder and tightens her hold on me. I smooth away the hair covering her face, and she peeps an eye in my direction. “I’ll go with you. I just need a minute to get up,” she says through a yawn at the same time my fingers curl around her nape. “I mean, if you want me to come with you, that is,” she adds in a whisper. She looks up at me with her round eyes, and my thumb runs across her skin in a back-and-forth motion.
I nod. “Yeah, I want you to come with me.”
“Okay,” she says so softly, I feel like I imagine it.
She looks so beautiful, it’s disarming, with her cheeks a little flushed from my own warmth to the faint sleep lines running across the side of her forehead. It’s almost enough to tempt me into spooning against her and staying on this couch for the rest of the day.
Her chin tips up toward me, and I duck my head down to her. We freeze, and our faces sit no more than an inch away from each other. I can feel her pulse thread under my fingertips, and a shallow sigh slips through her parted lips while her fingers lift the hem of my shirt and run sweeping strokes against my hip.
“Would you hate me if I kissed you right now?”
She shakes her head. My thumb tugs at her chin, and her mouth slacks open further. No resistance, no qualms or misgivings suggesting she doesn’t want this to happen. Her feathery lashes fan against her cheek, and her tongue pokes out to run along the bottom curve of her lip.
My fingers rake into her hair. I shudder a loose, shaky breath, and I feel like I can hear my heart thumping in my chest, all the way up to my ears, like an angry mallet hitting a drum.
“Please kiss me,” she pleads. And any hint of a doubt, any possibility of this being a bad decision, is wiped out from under me. Like a fucking rug.
My lips meet hers, and we mold like two puzzle pieces sitting side by side. I didn’t think it was possible, but my heart beats harder, faster, making me breathless. Our hands start to move. To her waist, to my back, to her bare thighs, to my cheek. And we grip each other as if touching and feeling were our newest forms of sustenance.
I press off the couch to lift myself and hover over her, making her sink into the plush cushions under us. I dip into the space she’s hollowed out for me between her legs and part them wider with my thigh. Her knees bend at the same time her skirt falls back, and the heels of her feet frantically scrape against my lower back. My hand grips her waist and travels higher and higher, until my thumb tucks into the bottom band of her bra and grazes against the rounded underswell of her breast.
I feel her hand claw at my back, tugging at the fabric bunching between my shoulders. I draw back to pull my shirt over my head, leaving my bare chest heaving in the space between us. She hurriedly lifts the hem of her own shirt, pulling it over her head and leaving her exposed in her lacy pink bra. Her head rests on the cushions, her wavy hair fanned around her perfect face and the shadows drifting over her skin making her look even more stunning in the morning light streaming in through the windows.
“So beautiful,” I whisper, dropping my face to her jawline and planting small kisses to her warm skin. I trail my knuckles along the inside of her thigh, tickling the elastic hem of her panties and plucking it away from her soft skin. She responds to my strokes with a sharp intake of breath while the languorous, careful touches make her tremble underneath me.
“I just want to feel you,” I say.
She nods, granting me permission. Her breathing becomes more feverish, and I swear I feel like I’ve evaporated into a cloud of bliss. My fingers continue to sweep and brush and tease, pulling her to the edge until she can’t take it any longer. Until I can’t take it any longer.
“I don’t want to sound too obsessive,” I groan. “But I’ve missed you.”
She nods again. “Can you touch me already?”
Before the last word leaves her mouth, I move her underwear to the side and push my finger inside of her in one go, meeting zero resistance with how achingly wet she is. She gasps, her back arching off the couch. I haven’t been ignoring the raging hardness of my dick poking at her stomach, but now, its presence is practically invasive. I feel like I’m going to explode.
She wraps her arm around my neck, pulling me toward her for a deep, lingering kiss. There’re about a hundred different senses swirling around me. The feel of her throbbing around my finger, the scent of her filling my lungs, the taste of her coating my tongue, her soft skin shuddering under my touch. I use my free hand to yank down her bra, exposing a single breast. I bring the peaked nipple to my mouth, and another sharp gasp fills the room.
Her fingers thread through my hair and dig into my skin, causing my scalp to burn like fire. It feels like everything burns, creating this aching pain, reminding me I’ll never get enough of Lucy. No matter what, I will always have this prickling, nagging reminder of how deeply she’s pummeled her way into my heart.
“Dexter,” she gasps. I suck harder, lapping her up while her entire body tenses underneath me. When I add another finger, moving in and out of her in earnest, she bucks against my hand. I curl my fingers, finding that when I do, she whimpers this adorable, needy little cry that makes me want to bury my face into her warm skin. “Yeah, right there,” she whispers. “ Ohhh my god. Keep doing that.” I stroke her, watching her body react and using her gasps and moans to guide me. My thumb presses into her clit, and I all but lose it at the sight of her face. Distorted like she can’t collect herself enough to form a clear thought, with her brow pinched and forehead creased. She sinks her teeth into my shoulder, and I feel like I missed the moment I sold my soul to the devil because there’s no way this is happening right now without some sort of sacrificial ritual.
“Dexter, I’m—oh, fuck. Fuck !” She presses her forehead to my shoulder, right where she left her mark on my flesh, and I feel her ripple around my fingers. She tosses her head back against the cushion, with the long column of her neck pointed toward the ceiling, and I bury my face into the dip under her jawline.
Just as I pull my hand away and cup the wet heat between her legs, she lifts her head and looks at me with serious eyes, her blown pupils making her already dark eyes look even darker. Her hand moves between us, gliding down my bare stomach. She flicks the buttons to my pants with one quick snap, and her hand slides inside my boxers, reaching for my dick, which feels like it’s made of concrete at this point. She starts to grip me, moving her hand up and down in a way that makes my entire body weak.
“Lucy,” I groan, inhaling the deep scent of her sweet-smelling shampoo.
She continues to stroke me, her thumb running over the stream of precum at my tip, letting it smear over her hand. I start to hear the movements, the slippery friction of her tugging at my orgasm in the most effective way possible. Her breathing grows harsh and hot against my ear before she whispers, “I want you to come on me.”
And that does it. Like a pubescent teenager getting his first handjob and jumping from joy at the thought of it. I let out an embarrassingly strangled grunt that makes me sound so goddamn vulnerable and desperate. We both look down as I come on her stomach, letting the pale, hot liquid pool on her skin, and my groans fill the air between us. I press my forehead to Lucy’s and let a low “fuck” slip through my lips. She angles her mouth to the side, and our noses brush, regaining my attention on her perfect face.
“I’ve really missed you,” I say in an aching whisper, realizing how many moments we’ve missed out on all these years.
“I’ve missed you too.”