Chapter 33 So It Goes…
So It Goes…
Dylan
Her back hit the door with a soft thud, the cool wood a contrast to the heat rolling off Dylan’s body. His mouth claimed hers— desperate, hungry. His hands framed her face, then slid lower, gripping her thighs.
He grips to lift her, wanting the feel of her thighs wrapped around his waste but she pushes back.
“Babe, please,” he whispered against her lips, his voice rough. “I bench press more than you. Just trust me.”
Ali hesitated, just for a second— still not used to being handled like something someone wanted. But she didn’t look away. His eyes didn’t leave hers.
She nodded.
Dylan’s hands flexed under her thighs, lifting her with ease.
Her legs locked around his waist, her arms looping around his shoulders.
He walked them to the nearest wall, pinning her there, his lips crashing into hers again, then dragging down her jaw, his breath warm and ragged as he kissed the curve of her neck.
“God, you smell amazing,” he murmured, tongue tracing the place just beneath her ear. “Like sunscreen and strawberries.”
Ali gasped when his teeth grazed her pulse. Her head tipped back, fingers clutching the collar of his shirt.
He tugged at the hem of her oversized tee. “Need this off. Need you.”
She let him pull it over her head, her cheeks flushing as she sat there in just her bra and her shorts. Dylan let the shirt drop to the floor, then stilled, just for a second, eyes drinking her in like a man who’d spent a decade starving.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he said, breath catching.
Ali didn’t look away. Not for one second.
Dylan adjusted his grip and carried her down the hallway. Ali clung to him, skin flushed, heart hammering. There was no urgency now. No frantic hands or stolen heat like earlier today when he’d bent her over the kitchen counter. This was different.
He nudged her bedroom door open with his shoulder and stepped inside, moonlight catching the edge of the comforter. Ali’s arms tightened around him as he stopped at the foot of her bed.
Gently, he set her down, his hands sliding from her back to her hips, not rushing. Just… touching. His hands lingering at her waist. Her skin was warm— flushed and soft— and her breathing was already uneven.
He took a step back to look at her. Just look.
Ali stood in front of him in her pale pink bra and those tight biker shorts he’d been thinking about since she climbed into the passenger seat of the SUV that morning. God help him, he’d nearly pulled off the road when she adjusted them over her thighs.
“You good?” he asked, voice low, thumb brushing her side.
She nodded, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked, but not looking away.
He took his time, unhooking her bra and peeling it off, then letting his fingers run along the edge of her shorts.
“Earlier…” he said, watching her face, “that was need. This is something more.”
She shivered.
He dropped to his knees.
He needed her to feel this. To feel him.
Not just his body but all the years between them— what he’d wanted to say, what he still couldn’t say, not yet.
So he kissed the curve of her stomach, just above the waistband, then the inside of her thigh.
Her hand found his shoulder, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
“Can I take these off?” he asked.
She nodded— slow, hesitant— and he took that as permission. She had her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. Carefully, reverently, he hooked his thumbs under the waistband and started to slide her shorts down.
In college, she would’ve covered herself the second they were off— turned away, tugged a blanket up, blushed so hard it made his chest ache. But now… she stood still, shaking slightly, but she let him look.
The fabric peeled down over her thighs, catching at her knees before slipping off entirely. He tossed them aside, then pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, just above her knee.
She stood in front of him in just her panties.
He bit back a groan.
“Ali…” His voice caught. His hands rested on her hips, fingers flexing. “I want to taste you.”
Her eyes widened.
He watched her, carefully. “You always got so shy back in college. I didn’t want to push.”
Her breath hitched. She looked down at him— him on his knees, shoulders broad, eyes dark with heat and something gentler beneath. Her lips parted.
“I…” she whispered, swallowing. “You sure you want to?”
He smiled, slow and devastating. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”
Her fingers trembled where they hovered near her stomach, and he reached up, catching one in his hand. Brought it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.
“What if I don't like it?”
“Then you just say ‘stop’ baby. I’ve got you. I promise.”
“Let me, sweetheart,” he murmured, lips brushing her skin. “Just say yes.”
There was a long beat.
Then, barely audible: “Yes.”
That was all he needed.
Dylan leaned forward and pressed a kiss right over the center of her panties. Her knees buckled slightly, and he caught her, guiding her down until she was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs open just enough for him to fit between.
He ran his hands up her thighs again, slower this time, then hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and looked up at her once more.
“You still with me?”
Ali nodded, lips parted, pupils blown wide. “Yeah.”
He peeled the last piece of fabric down her legs and tossed it behind him.
She was already trembling. He eased her down to lie on her back.
Dylan ran his hands up the outsides of her thighs, fingers spreading to cup the softness of her hips. He kissed one, then the other, letting his lips linger on her skin, before he dipped his head and finally tasted her.
Ali gasped, hips jolting at the first slow drag of his tongue.
“Easy,” he murmured against her, voice thick with restraint. “I got you.”
He kissed her again— open-mouthed, patient— taking his time as he explored every inch of her.
His hands anchored her thighs as he licked her softly, rhythmically, learning what made her whimper, what made her curse under her breath.
She was already wet, already coming apart for him, and he hadn’t even taken off his shorts.
Dylan groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her as he licked deeper, slower, savoring her like she was the only thing that had ever mattered. He pulled back just enough to breathe, his mouth slick, his breath hot against the inside of her thigh.
Then he slid his hands higher and pushed her legs wider— gentle but firm— urging her to give him more. To open for him.
“Yeah,” he rasped, eyes locked on hers. “Just like that. Let me see you, baby.”
Ali whimpered, her head falling back, one hand tangled in his hair, the other gripping the sheet like she needed something to hold on to.
Dylan took her in— every inch of her spread open for him, glistening and perfect— and felt his control fracture at the edges.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice wrecked. “You taste so sweet. Like heaven. Like you were made for this.”
He dipped his head again, licking through her folds with slow, filthy precision. Her thighs trembled around him.
“I could eat this pussy all night,” he murmured, his tongue dragging over her with maddening patience. “So wet for me. You feel that?”
Her hips jerked, a breathless gasp tumbling from her lips.
He smiled against her.
Yeah. She felt it.
He pressed two fingers inside her, pumping slowly, curling just right.
“This pussy’s perfect,” he growled. “Tight, warm… fuck, I missed this. Missed you.”
His lips closed around her clit again, sucking just enough to make her cry out. He loved every damn sound she made.
“Don’t hold back, Ali,” he whispered between licks. “Wanna hear you. Wanna taste you when you fall apart on my tongue.”
Her whole body shook— hips lifting, thighs closing in around his head as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge.
“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his voice rough and raw. “Give it to me. Let me drink you in.”