Chapter 4 Dillan
DILLAN
To all the men saying they want a woman to fix them a snack after sex . . . Sir, if she’s capable of walking after, you have not earned a goddamned snack.
—Dillan’s Secret Thoughts
Ilower myself onto Rome’s lap, and electricity and excitement course through my veins as I brush my lips over his, holding his face to mine. This is insane and impulsive and probably the biggest mistake of my life, but I just don’t care. “Think you can give me what I want, Rome?”
My words are a whisper against his hot skin, striking a match to the fire already humming between us.
I have absolutely no idea where this confident woman has been hiding, but I kinda like her and hope she sticks around.
I’m no shrinking violet, but this is a whole new level of boldness for me, and my blood thrums hot and heavy in my veins with excitement as anticipation builds.
Goosebumps dance down my spine as he moves one strong hand up my back and cradles my head gently, angling my face and taking control of our kiss.
Deepening it.
Demanding deliciously as I melt into him.
“Dillan . . .” The plea in his tone is soft and strong and utterly demanding, flooding my veins with a powerful hit of adrenaline.
My nipples peak and strain against the lace of my bra as all my synapses fire at once.
My body chants, yes, please, while my brain short-circuits and forgets any reason to argue.
And my subconscious reminds me this is such a bad idea.
But the want in his voice is enough to make me ignore that little voice.
Like he can read my disorganized thoughts, Rome pulls back and leans his forehead against mine, his breath coming in ragged pants. “You gonna regret this tomorrow?”
I skim my hand along his stubbly jaw and arch my back, dragging the tips of my tight nipples against his chest—his rock-hard, incredibly broad chest. Grinding down against his hard cock in answer as a war wages in his eyes.
A war I’d normally run from, but not tonight. Tonight, I’m running into it.
Rome wraps his other hand around my hip, squeezing. “Words, Dillan. I need your words.” His lips skim my jaw. My neck. The hollow of my throat. “And I don’t want to fucking stop.”
He shifts his hips, and a quiet moan slips past my lips as those eyes, normally such a beautifully brilliant navy blue, turn to nearly fathomless pools waiting for my answer.
“Life is too short to live with regrets,” I gasp as our mouths collide.
“Fuck . . .” he hisses against my lips, and the kiss is infinitely better than any I’ve ever had. Hot and hard as his tongue pushes into my mouth. Demanding. Like he’s never wanted anything or anyone as much as he does me right now, and my God . . . it’s intoxicating.
Need and desperation battle with the carefully crafted control I’ve spent a lifetime perfecting and protecting.
Control that’s slipping . . . shattering to pieces . . . until there’s none left.
Until the only thing I can see or feel or imagine or beg for is this man’s hands on my body.
And it’s nearly unbelievable how good those hands feel.
Heat floods my veins in an intoxicating rush.
I draw his bottom lip between my teeth, biting, and Rome’s big hands grab my ass in a move so hot, I’m not sure how my clothes haven’t incinerated.
He stands, lifting me with him, never taking his lips off mine.
Wrapping my legs around his lean waist, I lock my ankles at the small of his back as he settles between my thighs, his cock pressing against my aching core through our clothes.
The caress of his mouth against mine steals every thought from my mind until I just feel. And my entire body feels more alive than it’s felt in so long.
Too long.
My world narrows to this kiss. To this night. To this man.
“Jesus, Dillan,” Rome groans as he sucks at the sweet spot between my shoulder and neck, and I arch, giving him better access. My breath catches as he turns and drops us onto the couch.
One palm slides under my sweatshirt, and rough, calloused fingers splay along my ribs as his lips worship my pulse as it beats wildly for him. “You are fucking delicious . . .”
The words are ripped from his throat, his breath hot against the side of my neck before he draws back and tugs my shirt off. His eyes pool with a wild need matching my own, and I lace my fingers through his hair and tug until his mouth is back on mine.
Rome groans as I tug at his T-shirt, desperately wanting it gone from his body. Needing to feel his skin against mine as the press of his hard cock through his rough jeans threatens to undo me before we even start.
He fingers the strap of my bra hesitantly, like he’s suddenly worried he’ll hurt me.
“Don’t be gentle . . .” I taunt as I bend my knees and cradle him between my thighs, tugging at the hem of his tee. I want it off. I want to feel him. Now.
“Rome,” I moan and watch the thread he’s hanging onto fraying with each brush of my fingers against his skin and each drag of my tongue over his. Until he reaches behind his head and pulls his shirt off.
Oh. My. God.
This man’s chest is chiseled granite covered in beautiful ink.
Hard and firm and impossibly perfect.
His muscles ripple under my touch as I glide my fingers over his pecs and down his eight-pack abs.
“Like what you see, Ryan?”
I scrape my nails down his warm skin and lick my lips as his dark eyes devour me. “It’s not bad.”
I don’t tell him how much I like it. Don’t feed what I used to think was an overinflated ego, but looking at him now, I know is more like hard-earned confidence.
I can’t give him those words.
Not if I want to be able to walk away at the end of tonight.
And I really should want that.
But I can’t even think straight enough to string two solid thoughts together as a cocky, gorgeous smile curves his lips. His finger skims along the waistband of my leggings, and I wiggle, wanting them gone too. Wanting to feel his skin on mine. His weight on me.
“You sure you want this?” he asks with a gravelly desperation I feel in my soul.
He’ll stop if I want him to, but I don’t want him to stop. Not yet.
I nod breathlessly.
“Words, Dillan. Give me your words. Give me permission or tell me to stop,” he demands desperately.
“Don’t stop, Rome,” I plead, and a beautiful hiss slips past his lips.
“Fuck, Dillan . . .” The sound is ragged and rough and so fucking hot, I know that’s the only way I want to hear him say my name. God only knows what I’ll be willing to do to hear it again.
I lick my lips and focus on his handsome face, an unfamiliar sense of confidence cementing somewhere inside me. “Fuck me, Rome.”
“That’s a good girl.” His lips tip up in a crooked, sexy grin as he peels my pants down my legs and sucks in a breath, eyeing my white-lace thong.
Rome leans over me, his hot breath tickling my ear.
“Fucking. Gorgeous. Just like I always knew you’d be.
” He punctuates his words with a tug of his teeth on the lobe of my ear and slides his finger along the edge of my panties.
Tugging the lace against my clit until I’m squirming with the first burst of electricity coursing through my body.
Teasing me with that blunt finger before pushing inside.
Holy hell . . . my back arches into him, and I moan .
. . long and loud and deep in my throat as the overwhelming electricity arcs between us like a live wire striking against the street.
Hot sparks explode along my skin. Fuck . . .
His mouth captures mine. Devouring me, licking and sucking and scraping his teeth along my hypersensitive skin. My toes curl as I lock my trembling thighs against his hips, the first taste of my impending orgasm just out of reach.
I rock my hips against his, silently pleading as the tips of my fingers trace each dip and hard plane along his back before my nails bite into the corded muscle along his massive shoulders. My heart beats rapidly, like a drum in my ears.
“Do you want more, Dillan?” he growls—actually growls—and it’s so fucking hot, words fail me.
I nod and pant and moan again as this beautiful man’s eyes flare, and then he gives us what we both want and stuffs my pussy with two fingers, curling them just . . . fucking . . . right.
Holy. Shit.
I suck in the sharpest breath as my chest tightens, and Rome smiles.
“Breathe, baby.” He curves his fingers again and presses his thumb against my throbbing clit.
“You gonna be a good girl and come for me? Gonna need you nice and wet and ready, so you can take all of me.” He licks into my mouth and bites down on my lip. “And there’s a lot to take . . .”
His words are dizzying as rough fingers pump in and out and curl over and over, hitting that sweet spot again and again until I’m not sure if I’m going to come or cry, and he hasn’t even fucked me . . . yet.
With my next breath, I’m doing both as my body shudders and shakes, and I come hard and fast with a flash of color bursting behind my eyes as they close.
When I open them, Rome stands next to the couch, stepping out of his jeans, and I lick my lips, hungry for him.
This man . . . all toned, olive skin stretched impossibly tight over corded muscles.
Every inch on display. And he wasn’t kidding.
He’s fucking huge. “You look so fucking pretty sex drunk, baby.”
I lean up on shaking elbows, barely able to organize a thought and wrap my fist around his cock.
He shakes his head and steps back as I frown.
“Condom,” he murmurs as he grabs his wallet from his discarded jeans and pulls out a foil packet while I fight to catch my breath.
I watch with utter fascination as he rolls the condom down his thick length and squeak when Rome pulls me to my feet. His hands slide down my body to the backs of my thighs, and I’m lifted, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Where’s your bed?” he groans as if we weren’t just on a couch.
“My what?” Apparently, my brain isn’t back to firing on all synapses just yet.
“Your couch is small, Dillan, and I’m not.” He presses his hot mouth against mine. “Now, before I fuck you against the goddamned wall, where . . . is . . . your room?”
“Oh . . .” I whisper, shocked and so fucking turned-on by the need in his voice. “Second door on the right.”
It only takes moments before we’re inside my room, and I’m thrown on the bed with a bounce. Holy shit. The hunger in his eyes should scare me, but it doesn’t because I know it’s reflected in mine.
“Last chance, Ryan. Say the word, and this stops.”
I push up on my elbows and lick my lips. “Stop treating me like I’m fragile, Beneventi, and fuck me before I pull out my vibrator and do it myself.”
My words push him over whatever hill he was trying to die on and with one knee on the bed, Rome presses his cock against my center, his navy-blue eyes locked on mine, and pushes in that first tight inch.
I gasp at the searing burn and delicious stretch as he takes my mouth with his, a hand wrapped around my head and fingers tangled in my hair.
“You okay?” he asks, his muscles taut from holding back as I lift my hips, begging for—
“More,” I whimper. “I’m not going to break, Rome.”
“Fuck, Dillan,” he growls and bottoms out inside me in one beautifully brutal thrust that threatens to split me in two. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
I lift my hips and dig my fingers into his hair as I chase his mouth, unwilling to give up a single inch between us. “There are worse ways to go.”
Rome pulls out slowly as his tongue traces a line down my throat and over my breast, taking my peaked nipple between his lips, then slamming back into me again, and again, and again.
His hips pound into me as I meet him thrust for beautifully decadent thrust, my body already strung tight, desperately chasing another orgasm.
Bigger and better and more powerful than the last.
“Fuck . . .” he groans. “So fucking good, Dillan.”
His teeth graze my nipple, the sensations caressing my skin like he’s touching me all over my body.
I can feel him everywhere. “Rome . . .” I cry out into the dark room as I drag his body down to mine until I can feel all his weight against me.
Rome presses me into the mattress, his mouth coming back to mine, kissing me in time with his thrusts.
Chasing my tongue.
Biting my lips.
Snapping his hips.
Edging me closer and closer and closer.
Until I don’t think I can take anymore.
“I need—” I have no words . . . just need.
“I know,” he growls and grips my hips in his hands, holding me still as he fucks into me again and again. Changing the angle. Hitting a whole new spot I never knew existed before now. Before him. “I know what you need.”
I’d call him a cocky asshole, but he’s giving me exactly what he promised, and lights are flashing behind my eyes. A torrent of hard waves threatens to drag me under as I explode around him, moaning and gasping and screaming until my voice is hoarse.
Until I open my eyes and watch Rome tense, the muscles in his body bulging as he thrusts again and empties himself inside me, a shout ripping from his throat.
His eyes open, and something passes between the two of us.
Something unexpected . . .
Something new . . .
Something I decide I’ll worry about tomorrow as Rome discards the condom, then gathers me in his arms. “Stop thinking so hard, Dillan.” He presses his lips to my temple and wraps me around him. “Sleep first.”
I want to fight him on his little order like I typically would, but why would I fight after the two best orgasms of my life when I’m being held in strong arms and exhaustion is tugging at all my senses?
“You can fight with me in the morning,” he murmurs, and I get it. We’ve always kind of fought with each other. Not in a mean way. There was never any malice. But in a bickering way. In an it’s easiest to do this kind of way.
“What if I don’t want to fight with you?” I whisper, hoping the dark room masks the emotion I don’t want him to hear in my voice.
He pulls me over his chest and buries his face in my hair. “I’d say good because I’m done playing.”
“Oh really?” I ask, grateful he can’t see my face. “You’ve been a player for an awfully long time, Beneventi.”
“Maybe I never had the right person to play with.” His words are softer than I expected. “Maybe I’m done playing.”
“Maybe I like the sound of that,” I admit quietly before I let sleep pull me under.