Chapter Thirty-five
M y skin is on fire, my heart pounding inside my chest. I feel everything, too much and not enough, all in the same breath.
I can’t see him, but I feel his touch everywhere, on my thighs, his hands a tender caress, his mouth on my throat, teeth grazing over my skin as he pulls down my body, toward my nipples.
He takes one between his teeth, biting gently, and after that orgasm, everything is sensitive, like he’s placed a live wire to every single nerve.
“You’re doing so good baby,” He praises, lifting away from my skin as he notches the head of himself inside me, the stretch forcing a moan from my lips. The balls of his piercing add a new sensation, and I feel myself pulse around him. “So ready for another one.” He chuckles darkly.
He pulls out, only to feed it back into me, never going further than the tip of him.
His hand keeps one leg stretched to the side, the other hooked at his hip, while he continues to only fuck me with the head of him.
It’s torture, the stretch is there only to be removed a moment later.
I want him deeper, I don’t want to know where I begin and he ends.
“Dean, please,” The darkness keeps my vision captive, the vulnerability only heightening every other sense. I hear his rasping breaths, the deep moans that escape him every now and then. All I feel is his strength that he holds back with his tender touches and soft caresses.
His mouth is suddenly on my breast, sucking my nipple between his teeth as he slides further in, but even though I can’t see, I know he isn’t fully inside me. I want to snap the tether, forcing him to stop holding back.
I bring my leg around, pressing the heel of my foot to his ass, but his strength is no match to mine. I feel his grin on my breast.
“So fucking needy,” He growls, “So desperate.”
“Fuck me,” I beg.
“I will, baby,” He promises. “As soon as I’m done playing with this pretty body of yours. Your cunt is weeping for me, isn’t it?”
His crass words only prove to turn me on more.
Any semblance of the gentleman Dean appears to be outside the bedroom is gone.
He tortures me still. For several long minutes, he only allows himself to use half of his length, his tongue flicking against my nipple. The sound of it is obscenely loud, the wetness between my legs seeping onto my thighs and beneath my ass.
The weight on my thigh is suddenly gone, only for him to hook that leg to his hip, matching the other, and then his hands cup my hips, bringing my bottom half off the bed as he steps back.
The only reason I can tell he is standing is the way he holds me, my shoulders and head the only things now on the mattress.
And then he thrusts forward, hard. His body slams against mine, his hands the only things keeping me in place.
And all I can do is cling to the sheets and cry out his name.
He fills me so thoroughly that I feel him everywhere.
Hard, the strokes of his cock hit with precision.
He’s using my body, taking his fill, and bringing me with him.
I fear they’ll be nothing left of me when we come crashing down.
We are nothing more than flames, burning everything around us, destroying what we once knew to become something else entirely. But what will remain within the ashes?
“That’s it, Sloane,” He growls, “You feel how fucking good we are together? How right it is?”
I think I respond, but the words come out breathless and jumbled. I can barely think, let alone speak coherently.
“You’ll always be mine,” He continues, but my mind is gone to the pleasure, the feel of him owning me. The words should cause alarm, but they don’t, as they settle under my skin and set my soul on fire. His. Only his.
“Dean,” I moan his name.
“That’s right,” He lowers me to the mattress and presses his body onto mine. My legs wrap around his hips as he rolls and adds friction to my clit. Stars burst behind my eyes, my mouth opening in a silent moan. “My name. It’s my name on your lips.”
I claw at his back, likely leaving marks, but he continues, dragging me to the top where I combust. My climax shatters me, a buzzing beginning in my ears as the whole world ceases to exist beyond this.
I feel him jerk inside of me, his groans an erotic melody as he follows me over the edge.
For several long seconds, he remains inside me, our sweat slick skin touching, breaths mingling, but then he pulls from me gently and reaches for the blindfold. The light stings for a quick burst, but then my eyes adjust, his face coming back into view.
“You’re so perfect, Sloane,” He whispers, kissing the side of my mouth, but he doesn’t remain as he removes himself from me completely and heads to the bathroom.
He’s back a moment later, and the warmth of a wet cloth presses to my thighs.
He’s tender as he cleans me up, peppering kisses over my soft stomach and up my sternum.
When he’s done, he throws the cloth into the hamper and wraps me up as he moves to sit on the bed, keeping me in his lap and in his arms.
“Thank you,” I whisper, kissing the base of his throat.
“What for?” The depth of his voice rumbles against my ear.
“For knowing,” I let out a soft, content breath, “It’s been so long since I’ve had anyone.”
“You’ll always have me, Sloane.” He presses a kiss to my hair, “I’ve got you.”
It’s a promise I know he’ll always keep.
The following morning, I watch Dean as he gathers up his keys and slides his cell into his pocket.
“You’re sure you don’t need someone to come with you?” I worry my nail between my teeth, Lily making babbling noises behind me in her chair as the sensory videos play on the screen in front of her.
“I’m good, Butterfly,” Dean kisses me softly, “Lock the door behind me.”
“Of course,” I nod, watching him head out.
“You’re safe here,” He reminds me before he dips out the door, and I close the gap to turn the locks.
He’ll only be gone an hour, two at most, as he attends his rehab appointment, and right now, I’m not even sure it’s me I’m worried about.
Dean explained the threat this Richard guy is, and though he doesn’t seem all that nervous, I am.
He already tried to hurt him once, what’s stopping him from doing it again?
To distract myself, I dial Savannah’s number and head through to Lily. It’s just my anxiety talking, everything will be fine. Dean isn’t me, he isn’t helpless. If anything, he’s more equipped than anyone to deal with threats.
But I know I’ll spend the next couple of hours worrying anyway.