Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
florence
For once, I’m not angry because I opened my big mouth.
I’m angry at him for keeping his closed.
Just when I think his walls are lowering, they snap into place. Round and round we go. I’m dizzy and tired and still so stupidly infatuated with him. This is what happens when you listen to your heart. My brain told me to put a stop to the silly game we’re playing after the incident in his bedroom.
Not a week later, we were dancing in the rain.
The longer we do this, the higher my hopes rise and the harder they fall. His intentions might be good, but we were stupid to think this would ever work. My feelings for him will only grow too big for him to ignore. Eventually, it’ll become too awkward.
I need to protect the hopeless organ in my chest.
The thud of his footsteps barely fade before I drop my head into my hands, muffling my frustrated screams. He returns with our packs slung over his shoulders and fisting two canteens of water, his grieved expression wiped clean.
We trudge through the thick, green undergrowth, barely saying anything.
If he didn’t like what I said, he should call me out on it, not shut me out with his sour mood, grunts, and half-assed responses.
The route is short, a three-mile loop around the campsite. When we reach the two-mile marker, I’m ready to combust.
He lets me walk ahead, easily keeping up with my angry footsteps. Maybe I overstepped with talk of babies and marriage, but that doesn’t give him permission to shut me out. Every time I’m open, he clams up like a big, stupid, muscular…clam.
We reach an overgrown point in the path, and as I hold back a branch for him, he gives me a tight-lipped smile.
I lose it.
The fern thwacks him in the round slab of his stomach.
“The fuck?” He rubs a hand over his T-shirt. “What was that for?”
I point at him. “You’re a big, stupid clam!”
“A clam?” he asks slowly.
“Yes. A clam.” I fold my arms over my chest, not breaking eye contact.
He shifts uncomfortably under my gaze. “I’m not sure what that means. Something tells me it isn’t positive.”
“It means you don’t talk to me. I say what’s on my mind, and yes, sometimes without thinking.
Tell me if I’m pushing you out of your comfort zone, but don’t push me away.
” I eat up the distance between us. “I’m calling you out on your shit, Dexter Robert Moore.
” He flinches when I jab a finger into his chest. “This is supposed to be a fun trip, and you’re really raining on my charade. ”
His mouth twitches.
“What?”
“It’s parade.” Crickets. “It’s ‘raining on my parade.’”
My blood boils. Steam rises from me. I’m a woman scorned. “Are you mansplaining to me right now?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His amusement blinks out as he scrubs a hand over his tired face.
“I’m sorry if I upset you. I’m not shutting you out, but I don’t…
” He drags the cap off his head, clenching it in his fist as he fights to find the words.
“Can we forget about it? Don’t let me ruin this weekend. ”
The shutters behind his eyes fall—my cue to leave.
I pivot on my heel, ignoring the scratch of thorns on my bare skin as I march away. Dex’s footsteps thump behind me, his brooding stare burning a hole in my head the entire mile back.
By the time we return, the sun kisses the horizon. Frustrated and breathless, I take an angry swig from my canteen and flop onto a camp chair. My hands twitch, the ring he gifted me burning my skin. I don’t dare touch it.
Dex goes about his business, starting a small fire.
Vibrations wrack my body, my emotions are uncontainable. I’m ready to explode like Mount Vesuvius, leveling the forest and wiping out everything, including my last drop of patience.
I stand abruptly, needing an outlet for this pent up energy. Two steps, and a bulky body emerges in front of me.
“Where are you going?” he asks calmly.
“For a walk.” I try to go around him, but he blocks my path.
“I’ll come with you.”
“No. Alone,” I say curtly.
I move left. He moves right.
“Dex, I’m not in the mood. I won’t go far.” I brush past him. “You don’t have to babysit me.”
“Florence, you’re not wandering off by yourself.” Each word, every syllable, is said through clenched teeth. Oh, he’s mad.
Join the club, buddy.
I whirl on him, not caring how deranged I look. “No. You don’t get to tell me what to do. Between the hours of nine and five, I’m your employee. Outside of them, I’m not your problem.”
The man standing before me is unrecognizable: fists curled at his sides, jaw clenched, eyes untamed. “You’ve been my problem for six long months.”
My arms fly into the air. “What does that even mean?”
Exhaling heavily through his nose, he takes a predatory step forward. “It means you’re making it impossible for me to do the right thing. You were supposed to be one night. A distraction. Not this.” He gestures at me accusingly.
“Not what?” Anger courses through me. “I don’t want to be a distraction! I made my feelings clear, and it’s fine if you don’t return them, but you don’t get to block me out when you feel like it. We’re supposed to be friends, and instead, you’re giving me the cold shoulder.”
Birds flock at our rising voices.
There’s a lethal edge to his eyes. Black holes consume his irises as his pupils blow wide. My heart hammers as he stalks toward me. I’m not scared, not of him, but my feet stumble as I retreat, stopping when rough bark bites my shoulders.
He towers over me, our chests inches apart. If he touches me, it’s over. If he doesn’t, I’ll scream.
“If I don’t return them?” He throws his arms wide.
“All you do is distract me! You aren’t a distraction; you’re the distraction, day and fucking night.
I can’t go a few hours without getting my fix of you, and even that’s not enough.
This isn’t about me not wanting you, it’s about me wanting what I can’t have.
” Palm flat over his heart, fingers splayed wide, he shakes his head.
“I can’t physically do it anymore, Florence. ”
I. Stop. Breathing.
For months, I’ve been on an endless rollercoaster of emotions, certain I could push my feelings aside to be professional. After so many loops, sharp descents, and turns, I’m not sure which way is up.
“You’re confusing me,” I whisper. “If this is to get your fix or because I’m convenient, then—”
The words are stolen from me when his mouth collides with mine. He cradles my face lovingly, his lips and tongue battling with mine.
There are first kisses. Last kisses. Goodbye. Hello. Ones between lovers, friends, and family.
This kiss creates anew, wiping whatever I knew before and whatever comes next from memory. As the sun disappears behind the trees, we come alive, illuminating the twilight evening.
His body vibrates as he breaks the connection. “If needing you is my damnation, then send me to the depths of hell, because it can’t be worse than having you within reach and not holding you whenever I want.”
There are doubts to be cured, but the sureness in his voice reassures me this isn’t an act driven purely by lust. It goes beyond that. Whatever that is will have to wait, because his mouth is on me again.
Our lips move together with fervor. His tongue demands entrance, and I open willingly.
The time we’ve spent depriving ourselves sends us into a frenzy.
We claw at the other’s clothes, shredding seams and popping buttons.
Dex whips my shorts down my legs, helping me to step out of them as I tear his T-shirt up and over his head.
Me in just my bra and panties, he stands in his jeans, belt unbuckled, hanging low on his wide hips.
The night air does nothing to cool the fire breaking out on my skin, lit by the slow track of his stormy gaze over my body. That first night, I was self-conscious about my lack of curves. One sweep of his eyes obliterated those doubts.
“All of it, Florence.” He jerks his chin. “Don’t get shy on me now.”
I pop a hip, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “Do you ever stop being bossy?”
One arm propped on the tree trunk above my head, he cups my breast, thumb stroking over the simple lace. It’s strange to think of this man as gentle, but as he circles my nipple, my knees threaten to buckle from the light caress. “You weren’t complaining last time.”
He’s right. I put up a fight at first, purposefully being difficult. A murmured “Brat” was the last thing I heard before he dragged me across the mattress and ate me out from behind. Dex made it clear who was in charge, but he liked me “acting out” before I eventually submitted.
I’ve been with a handful of guys, all of whom treated me with respect. They were sweet, considerate. Dex respects me without question. It was obvious our first time, and it’s obvious now. There’s a tenderness to him, but it’s the power exchange I crave.
“That was last time,” I sass. “This is now.”
His touch disappears, and my attention drops to where his inked hand falls to the button of his jeans. The hiss of his zipper is louder than my heartbeat.
“You gonna misbehave tonight? Need me to fuck the attitude out of you?”
Yes, please.
This man deserves a standing ovulation. He reads me with ease, and knowing we’re on the same page is thrilling.
I reach behind me, unhook my bra, and drop it to the ground. My nipples harden to painful points. A deep groan fills the air as I peel my cotton thong from my damp center.
He chuckles when I nod at his jeans suggestively. He frees himself, keeping his jeans on. The insides of my thighs go slick at the sight.
Fisting his length with slow, measured strokes, he stares at me keenly.
He’s long and thick. Proportional in every way possible.
Veins run down his arms, but it’s the ones flexing along the curve of his stomach, framing his cock and disappearing behind the dark patch of curls, that have my mouth watering.
I want to spend hours studying the words and images sketched into his skin.
“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he murmurs, bending to press a kiss below my ear.
“I like how beautiful you make me feel.” My eyes flutter closed when he nips at my lobe.
I’m so on edge, the brush of his hands between my legs has me jumping, my thighs snapping together.
He tuts. “Don’t hide from me. I want to watch your pleasure drip from you. Because later, it’ll be me leaking out of this tight little cunt.”
I catch myself on his shoulders, gasping when a thick finger teases my entrance before shoving inside. I’m so wet, he slides in easily.
My legs tremble as he moves in and out of me lazily. “I’m patient, Florence, and before I fuck you, you’re going to learn how to behave. There’s only one rule: you say stop, we stop. I’m all for this push-and-pull game. Tell me you understand that.”
“I understand. I like it when you’re in charge, telling me what to do. I’ll listen…” A smirk twists my lips. “Eventually.”
A kaleidoscope of butterflies takes flight in my belly at his dark chuckle. “Oh, Trouble, you’ll obey me soon enough.”
All humor dies when Dex lowers to the ground, dragging me with him until he lies flat on his back, my legs straddling his chest.
“What are you doing?” I glance at the tent.
“Can’t wait,” he rumbles, fingers digging into my thighs. “You’ve got five seconds to sit on my face.”
“Dex, anyone coul—”
“Now, Florence.” He smooths his thumb and forefinger over his mustache. “Ride it. Soak it. Don’t fucking care. Five. Four. Three. Two—”
Before the countdown finishes, my legs swing over his shoulder, hovering above his face. Completely bared to him, he inhales deeply, nose pressed to the inside of my thigh.
“What happened to teach—Fuck, Dex! God!” My teasing is cut off when he dives forward, spearing me with his tongue and dragging me down at the same time. His hungry grunts vibrate through me, my toes curling.
He’s a man possessed, devouring me.
The peak of my pleasure barrels toward me. Close, so close.
“Oh, ohhh, Dex,” I whine, one hand on the top of his head and the other palming my breast.
Then, he’s gone, glowering at me, chin and mustache glistening.
“Why did you stop?”
“Brats don’t get rewards. I’m going to drive you to the edge, over and over, until you can’t see straight.” Licking his lips, he hums, staring at me through thick black lashes. “This greedy cunt tastes delicious whether you come or not.”
This is where the game leaves me torn. Everywhere aches for release. When a long finger enters me, pumping into me twice before withdrawing, the bratty persona falls away.
“Come. Let me come. Please.” My voice pitches, slicing through the night as my nails sink into his shoulder. Desperation bleeds from my pores. “I’ll be good.”
“That’s my girl.” Dex’s sandpaper rough voice drops a decibel as he drags his tongue over my seam in one, long stroke. “I want you dripping down my chin in the next sixty seconds, or you don’t get my cock.”
A meaty hand wraps around my thigh, jerking me back to his waiting mouth.
It takes less than a minute.
My spine snaps straight, eyes skyward, unsure if the stars twinkling above me are real. I chase my orgasm, grinding on his face shamelessly. “Shit, Dex. I can f-feel it. I’m coming. Oh god, I’m coming.”
He stiffens his tongue and flicks it over my clit.
The stars blink out.
The forest disappears.
The world goes silent.
I succumb to it all. To him. To whatever my body is doing. He owns it. All of it.
And yet, I’ve never felt more in control as my orgasm strikes me over and over.
Dex is there through it all; kissing, nibbling, and sucking.
Then, I’m air bound, legs wrapping around his waist, mouths sealed together. It takes me a second to get my bearings. He strides across the camp, one arm banded under my bottom while he pushes his jeans down his hips with the other.
Anyone could stumble across us.
I don’t care.
Not when he lowers onto a wide tree stump, pants around his ankles, cock throbbing against my ass.
My pussy glides across his stomach, and I moan into the kiss while grinding on his lap, seeking friction. “Dex, I need you in me.”
“Fuck, I know.” Fingers curled into my short hair, he draws me away, face sheepish. “I didn’t come here with the intent of this happening, so I’m a little unprepared.”
“I’m on the pill. It’s fine. I don’t want anything between us.” To prove my point, I rise to my knees, positioning him at my entrance. “Fuck me raw.”
The tendons in his neck pull taut as his head falls back on a throaty groan. “I’m going to hell.”
I grasp his face, dragging his gaze to meet mine. “Better make good on your promise and fuck me before you go. You promised me a reward.”