Chapter 10 #2
I caught both his wrists and trapped them against the mattress, pressing down again. His head tipped back, breath escaping in a pleased hum. “Think you’re in charge, do you?”
“Seems like.” I kissed him until my breath ran out, our lips slick against each other.
Might come just from this—the grind and shift of our hips, the way Dean sucked hard on my bottom lip, making me groan as I pressed forward.
He wrestled one hand free and grabbed my waist, pulled me down into him, nails digging in.
“Got an idea.” His lips moved against my cheek, voice low enough to vibrate in my belly.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Mm-hmm.” He rolled us over in a sudden heave, the mattress dipping as he pushed me flat against it. “Want you under me.”
I swallowed electricity, my laugh a little shaky as he slid a hand around to cup my ass, kneading it like he owned the territory. “Could’ve asked.”
“Action over words,” he said.
“Or maybe you just have a thing for control.”
His mouth curved. “You’re only just figuring that out?”
I framed his jaw, thumb stroking the stubble-rough corner of his lips. “Well, by all means. Take it. Or, you know—me.”
He chuckled and reached for the lube, bit my lower lip before he kissed me—heavy with intent, swallowing my gasp when he rolled his hips down and our cocks slid together again, hot skin and friction.
Fuck, yes. One of my hands fluttered at the sheets.
He caught it and briefly laced our fingers, squeezing once, then let go so his mouth could paint a damp path down my throat.
“Today, maybe?” I managed.
He raised his head with a dark little smirk that slanted slightly to the left. “Thought I was setting the pace?”
Before I could answer, the first press of a finger inside me dragged out a groan. I closed my eyes, chasing heat and something deeper that lived at the base of my spine.
“Look at me,” he ordered—gentle but serious.
I dragged my lids open and found him watching me with an expression that I couldn’t quite read, velvet steel laced with softness, didn’t make sense.
He added a second finger, his focus so intense it felt like a physical touch.
I breathed through it, wasn’t sure what he could read on my face. Too much, maybe.
Easy.
“Hey. Dean?”
He made a questioning sound, followed by a teasing nip at my nipple. My hips jolted.
“Why—” I broke off, my thoughts cracking apart when he twisted his fingers. Stars cartwheeled through my vision. “Why did the banana go to the doctor?”
“Seriously—now?” He sounded fond, though, almost painfully so, and it lit some kind of spark behind my sternum, a brightness that I wasn’t ready for. I willed it away, tried to keep it light.
“It wasn’t peeling well.”
“Oh my God.” It landed somewhere between a chuckle and a groan, and he pressed a third finger into me—a slick, smooth slide. My whole body jolted, thighs spreading to pull him deeper. He bent down to lick a wet stripe up my cock.
“Dean.” My voice came out wrecked. “Come on.”
He raised his head for a grin that sat mostly around the eyes, voice a hint huskier than usual. “You good?”
“I’d be a lot better if we could take this to the next level.” I considered him for a moment, then let a full smile bloom across my face. “Please?”
A complex flash of emotions chased across his face—briefly opened him up completely, like this meant something. Meant something to him, too. Then it was gone, his expression easing along with his voice. “Can’t fault your bedside manner.”
“D’you want me to beg for it?” I carded a hand through his hair, a little matted at the neck—humid air and sweat. Affected. “Because I will.”
He curled his fingers in a way that made the ceiling tilt. His other hand anchored my hip as he repeated the motion, watching me as if he was trying to memorize each shift, each twitch, learn me by heart so he could play me at will. It didn’t—oh. It didn’t feel casual.
I took a breath and another, suddenly aware of how fast my pulse was fluttering, of the tight coil of heat in my stomach. Easy.
“If you need an engraved invitation…” I let it trail off, maybe even managed to tip up my chin in a challenge he was unlikely to refuse because, well, Dean. And—yes. He thrust his fingers into me once, making some kind of point that dusted my vision in sparks, then withdrew completely.
I propped myself up on my elbows, the ocean below us rushing in my blood as I watched him grab the condom and slick himself up. He looked…
He looked like he’d forgotten there was a world out there.
Still think sex is overrated? I didn’t ask, too afraid it might shatter the moment and make him pull back into himself. I reached for him instead, let him guide my legs over his shoulders—almost dizzy from the weight of his attention.
The first push of his cock burned sweet, slow, letting me feel every inch as he seated himself. I wasn’t meant to feel this much—knew it and still couldn’t stop, grounded by the steady pressure of his hands around my thighs.
“Okay?” he asked, voice hoarse as if even that one word cost him.
“Yeah.” I shifted, glitter hanging around the edges of my vision. Tried to focus on how light slid down the planes of his body—counted muscle groups like test prep: delts, traps, pecs, abdominals. God. “Move, please.”
He did—eyes on me as he drew back almost all the way before rolling his hips forward again, deeper, angling until white-hot pleasure caught in my gut.
My back arched, and he kissed me through a broken sound.
I tugged on his hair to keep him right there, mouths open, breathing through each thrust even though my lungs couldn’t fit quite enough air, an ocean welling in my blood.
No one’s ever felt like this.
I pushed the thought into the soft-black night before it could sprout roots.
“You close, babe?” he asked, each syllable precise yet frayed, like it took effort to hold them all together. The pet name snagged somewhere in my chest.
“Yeah. Just…” I broke our kiss to tip my head back into the pillow, dragged my free hand down his side, letting my nails catch just slightly on damp skin.
His palm cupped the underside of my thigh—leverage for deeper, tighter grinding to make sure I felt the angle. Sweet pressure sparked up my spine.
“Come on,” he rasped. “Let me see you.” Phrased like an order but the words came out thin, like they’d been scraped raw on the way out.
“Okay, yeah.” Nonsensical thoughts tumbled through my head as I wrapped a hand around myself. Fast twists of my wrist—at odds with his steady, languid drives that bottomed out. Each slide punched a moan out of me.
Never like this.
He caught the hand I’d wound into his hair and pinned it above my head, fingers threaded through mine.
The stretch forced my chest to arch into him, his hips stuttering as I tightened, every nerve singing.
Lips brushing, sweaty foreheads pressed together.
The slick slap of him sliding into me, filling me up so good, oh, fuck.
I held his gaze, so close it felt like drowning, like falling apart, my pieces drifting into a million different directions.
His rhythm gathered purpose—a hard snap, a retreat, and another hard snap. I felt every inch.
“Fuck.” He said it like a truth I wasn’t meant to hear. “Tay.”
I turned my head, bit at his jaw, and he answered with a guttural groan, hips jerking faster, harder, control fraying thread by thread. Yes.
“Tell me you’re close.” More plea than request, his voice wrecked in a way that felt like a rolling quake starting at the soles of my feet.
“Barely hanging on,” I managed.
“Good.” Satisfaction roughened the single word. He changed his angle—just by a fraction, but it felt like everything inside me shattered as he went rigid, breath caught, eyes blown wide. Stuttered pulse of him inside me, and God, yes, that was it.
Vertigo yanked me under. Pleasure crested hot in my veins, thick warmth slick across my knuckles as we clung, bodies locked. The echo of waves outside and in my mind. Time slipping by, measured by our ragged breathing as we rode out the tremors.
“Holy shit.” His voice cracked a little at the edges, and I laughed, a little shaky.
“Not so overrated after all?”
Fuck—I hadn’t meant to say that. Put him on the spot when he might turn and run.
He didn’t, though. Just studied me for a long beat that ached in the softest part of my ribs, golden lamplight painting his face unguarded as if for once, he’d misplaced his armor.
I framed his cheeks with both hands and kissed him, slow like a memory in the making: summer skin and the way his tongue slid against mine, a radiant promise folded into the silent weight between us.
I shivered when he eased out, too sensitive, yet already missing him. Get it together. He rolled to the side, kept our fingers twined for a moment longer before he let go with a smile. “Gonna… Bathroom. Get you a towel, yeah?”
“Thank you.” I watched him rise to unsteady legs, pausing briefly with a hand on the nightstand. I did that. Bright and possessive when I had no right to it.
I hadn’t really moved when he returned, my thighs splayed wide, and he stopped to take me in through half-lidded eyes, hair sticking to his forehead, smile slow. And—oh. Fuck.
This wasn’t a crush. I wanted…
Everything.
Act casual, Tay.
“You all right?” he asked, kneeling up onto the bed to wipe me clean. I grinned at him, mind fogged over with words I couldn’t say.
“Never been better.”
He was still smiling, eyes crinkled into catlike slits. “Why did we wait so long to do this?”
“Because someone”—I made sure to insert a meaningful pause—“thought it would mess with our friendship.”
“Silly.” He tossed the towel in the vague direction of the bathroom. “It couldn’t.”
What if I’m in love with you?