24. The Bed Standoff #3
His hand slid down my stomach, over my hip, and dipped between my thighs. I was soaked, aching, and he groaned against my skin as his fingers found my slick, swollen center.
“All for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction.
He circled my clit, and my hips bucked forward, seeking more pressure, more friction.
“Dallas, please…”
“Please what, wifey?” He had the audacity to sound amused. “Use your words.”
“I need you. Now.”
That was all the permission he needed.
He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my panties and peeled them down my legs, his gaze burning as he took me in. I'd never felt more exposed. More wanted.
He shifted, kneeling between my thighs, and finally… finally… shed his own boxers.
My breath caught.
He was magnificent. All hard muscles, and his cock… My eyes widened. He was huge.
The size of him should have been intimidating, but it only fueled the fire inside me. I wanted to be overwhelmed. I wanted to be consumed.
He reached for the nightstand, fumbling briefly before he pulled out a condom. The crinkle of foil was loud in the quiet room. He rolled the condom over his wide head, his eyes never leaving mine.
He leaned over me, bracing himself on one arm, his other hand guiding himself until the tip of his cock nudged my entrance. My eyes squeezed closed as I held my breath, my entire body tensing in anticipation. It had been a really long time since I’d been intimate with anyone.
“Eyes on me, baby.”
My eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze.
Slowly, he pushed his head inside me, his thickness spreading me wide.
He paused for a brief moment, and then his hips thrust forward.
I cried out as he filled me, a deep, stretching, perfect fullness that stole the air from my lungs.
He stilled, letting me adjust, his body trembling with the effort of holding back.
“Fuck, Davina...” he choked out, dropping his forehead to my shoulder.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Don't stop,” I begged, my voice a broken whisper.
His control shattered.
He withdrew almost completely, then drove into me again, harder this time, setting a relentless rhythm that shook the bed. Each thrust was a jolt of pure, undiluted pleasure, hitting a spot deep inside me that made me see actual stars.
My nails dug into the hard muscles of his back, surely leaving half-moon marks. I wanted to mark him. Wanted him to remember this, remember me, long after tonight was over.
I moaned, bucking my hips forward, meeting him thrust for thrust.
He shifted his angle, grinding against me with every deep plunge, the friction on my clit pushing me closer and closer to the edge. His pace was urgent, almost frantic, a raw and primal need that matched my own.
“You're so tight,” he grunted, his voice strained. “So fucking perfect around me.”
His words growled against my ear, dirty and desperate, and sent another wave of heat crashing through me. He was branding me. Not just with his body, but with his voice, his hands, his possession.
I could feel the pleasure building and tightening unbearably deep within me. My cries became higher, more desperate. “Dallas, I'm... I'm gonna…”
“Come for me,” he ordered, his thrusts becoming even more powerful. “Let me feel you.”
It was the command in his voice that pushed me over the edge.
My orgasm ripped through me, violent and shattering. A raw, broken scream tore from my throat as my body convulsed around him, clenching and pulsing in wave after wave of pleasure.
He fucked me through it, his rhythm stuttering as my contractions dragged him toward his own release. With a final, deep, grinding thrust, he buried himself inside me and groaned my name into the crook of my neck, his entire body shuddering as he came apart.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of our harsh breathing and the frantic beating of our hearts, slowly finding their way back to normal.
He collapsed on top of me, his weight a comforting, solid presence. His lips found my shoulder, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against the damp skin.
We lay there silently, tangled together.
Outside, the bay glittered on, indifferent to the fact that my entire world had just shifted on its axis.
The reality of what we'd done began to seep back in, but for now, I pushed it away.
I just breathed him in, memorizing the feel of his skin against mine.
Slowly, he rolled off me, dealing with the condom before pulling me back into his arms, my back to his chest. His hand splayed possessively over my stomach, holding me close.
We didn’t speak. The words that needed to be said seemed too big, too dangerous.
He nuzzled the back of my neck, his breathing beginning to even out. I closed my eyes, letting the exhaustion and the aftershocks of pleasure pull me toward sleep, nestled in the arms of my fake husband.
Feeling more real than anything ever had.
Just as I was drifting off, his voice rumbled against my spine. “Still think it's a terrible idea, Davidson?”
I smiled into the darkness. “Ask me again in six months.”