CHAPTER FIVE #2
He took the steps two at a time, his hands gripping my ass, my mouth on his neck. By the time we reached his bedroom, we were both panting.
He set me down beside his bed—a massive king with a dark wooden frame that looked handmade—and just looked at me for a long moment.
“Last chance to change your mind,” he said.
“I’m not changing my mind.” I reached for the hem of my sweater. “Are you?”
“Fuck no.” He grabbed my hands, stopping me. “Let me.”
He undressed me slowly, reverently, like he was unwrapping the best Christmas present he’d ever had.
My sweater came off first. He leaned down and kissed the tops of my shoulders even as his hands glided up my sides.
I held my breath briefly as he touched me there.
Then let it out slowly. He’d already proven that he wanted me.
He must have sensed some of my unease. “Easy, baby. You’re beautiful and I want you so damn much.” Next, he took off my bra, letting it drop to the floor. His hands cupped my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples as his mouth covered mine.
Once I was able to breathe again, I whispered against his mouth. “Dalton, please—”
I needed more. So much more.
“Patience, baby,” he whispered back, but his hands were already at the waistband of my jeans, sliding them down my legs along with my panties. He knelt slightly in front of me, and I tangled my fingers through his hair. I groaned as he rubbed his face against the softness of my belly.
He stood up and I realized I was naked in front of him, while he was still fully dressed. “Your turn,” I said, reaching for the buttons of his flannel shirt.
He let me undress him, standing still as I worked each button free. I pushed the shirt off his shoulders and what I saw made my mouth water. Broad shoulders. Defined pecs. Abs that looked carved from stone. A trail of dark hair that disappeared into his jeans.
And scars. Several of them—a long one across his ribs, a jagged one on his shoulder, smaller ones scattered across his torso.
“Ranch work,” he said, following my gaze. “Nothing exciting.”
“They’re perfect,” I whispered, tracing the one across his ribs. “You’re perfect.”
He caught my hand, bringing it to his mouth. “I’m not, but I appreciate the lie.”
“Not a lie.” I reached for his belt buckle, my fingers fumbling slightly in my eagerness.
He helped me, pushing his jeans and boxer briefs down, and then he was naked too, and—
Oh.
He was big. Thick and hard, the head already glistening with precum. My pussy clenched just looking at him, wondering how that was going to fit, wondering how good it was going to feel when it did.
“Careful, baby. You’re about to make me forget this is supposed to be slow.” There was a thread of amusement in his voice.
I allowed myself to channel some of the bad girl inside me that all women have.
“Who said I wanted slow?” I wrapped my hand around him, testing the weight, the silky-smooth skin over steel hardness.
He hissed out a breath, his hips jerking forward. “Fuck, Riley.”
I stroked him slowly, watching his face. His eyes were closed, jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. He looked like he was in pain and pleasure all at once, and knowing I was doing that to him made me feel powerful.
“Bed,” he gritted out. “Now. Before I come in your hand like a teenager.”
He lifted me and put me on the bed, crawling on top of me before I could even catch my breath from his show of strength. Talk about being turned on.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, kissing his way down my neck. “You’ve been driving me crazy since the moment I saw you.”
“Even covered in flour and smelling like burnt biscuits?”
“Especially then.” He took my nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, and my back arched off the bed. “I wanted to bend you over the counter right then and show you exactly what you were doing to me.”
His mouth moved lower, kissing down my stomach, and I realized where he was going.
“Dalton, you don’t have to—”
“I want to.” He settled between my thighs, spreading them wide, and just looked at me. I knew what he saw. I could feel it, could feel how slick and swollen and ready I was for him.
“Please,” I whimpered, not even sure what I was asking for.
But he knew.
His mouth descended, and I nearly came off the bed.
His tongue was everywhere—licking, sucking, circling my clit with maddening precision.
He groaned against me, the vibrations sending shockwaves through my body, and I fisted my hands in his hair.
He slid two fingers inside me, curling them just right while his mouth worked magic on my clit, and I was flying apart.
He didn’t stop. He kept licking, kept pumping his fingers and drawing out my orgasm until I was a trembling, incoherent mess.
“I can’t,” I gasped. “Too much—”
“One more,” he demanded, his voice vibrating against my pussy. “Give me one more, baby.”
His fingers found that spot inside me again, and his mouth sealed over my clit, sucking hard, and I shattered again, screaming his name.
This time he gentled his touch, bringing me down slowly, pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs while I tried to remember how to breathe.
“You taste so fucking good,” he said, kissing his way back up my body. “I could do that for hours.”
“You’re trying to kill me,” I accused breathlessly.
“No, just making you feel good.” He reached over to his nightstand, pulling out a condom.
I watched him roll it on, my pussy clenching in anticipation. This was happening. This was really happening.
He settled between my thighs again, the head of his cock pressing against me, and I held my breath.
“Look at me,” he commanded softly.
I met his eyes—those dark, intense eyes that had made me fall in love with him
I knew I couldn’t say the words out loud, but I knew what had happened to me. What had been happening to me.
I loved this man.
“Tell me you want this,” he said.
“I want this. I want you.” I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Please, Dalton.”
He pushed forward slowly, just the head breaching me, and we both groaned.
“Fuck,” he gritted out. “So tight, baby. So fucking tight.”
He pushed in another inch, and I gasped at the stretch. He was big—bigger than anyone I’d been with before—and my body was struggling to adjust.
“Relax,” he murmured, kissing me softly. “Just relax and let me in.”
I tried to breathe, tried to relax, and he pushed in deeper. Inch by inch, he filled me, until he was buried completely inside me, and I felt split open in the best possible way.
“Oh my,” I breathed.
“You okay?” His arms were shaking, and I knew it was from the effort of holding still. Holding back.
“Yes.” I rolled my hips experimentally, and we both moaned. “But move. Please move.”
He pulled back slowly, almost all the way out, and then thrust back in. Deep and sure and perfect.
“Like that?” he asked, his voice strained.
“Exactly like that.”
He set a rhythm—slow, deep strokes that had me gasping with each one. His eyes never left mine, watching every expression, every reaction, and I’d never felt so seen, so known, so completely possessed.
“Harder,” I demanded, needing more, needing everything.
He obliged, picking up the pace, driving into me with powerful thrusts that made the headboard bang against the wall. One hand gripped my hip hard enough to bruise, the other braced beside my head, and I loved it, loved feeling owned by him.
“So good,” he groaned. “Feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock, Riley. Like you were made for me.”
“Yes,” I gasped. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
“Not stopping, baby. I’m going to fuck you until you know exactly who you belong to.
Me.” Everything inside me responded to his words.
I wanted that. I wanted to belong to him.
Then, he shifted angles and all I could think about was how good he was making me feel and suddenly I was careening toward another orgasm.
“Dalton—I’m going to—”
“Come for me,” he commanded. “I want to feel you come on my cock and feel that tight pussy squeeze me.”
His words pushed me over the edge, and I came with a scream, my whole body convulsing around him. He fucked me through it, prolonging my pleasure, and I could feel him getting closer, his rhythm becoming erratic.
“Riley,” he groaned, and then—