Chapter 27
27
PORTIA
I pulled on my favorite silk pajamas. They were a guilty pleasure. I didn’t care that it was warm and humid. I needed my jammies. After a shitty day, I loved to put on the pajamas I spent too much money on. It was like getting a big hug. Normally, I would put on my fluffy slippers, but it was too damn hot. I walked barefoot into the kitchen and filled the waiting teacup with water from my electric kettle. Again, it wasn’t really the weather for it, but it was my comfort item.
I carried my tea outside to the small patio. I turned off the porch light to keep the bugs from swarming. I had a reading light that was far less intrusive. I could enjoy the quiet night and read. I settled into the wicker chair and tucked my legs beneath me. I inhaled. The scent of the lemon in my tea mingled with the typical smells of the lake. It was a distinct earthy smell, like wet soil after a rain. The smell of wet foliage and grass all wafted over me. I could feel my stress melting away.
I opened my book, the pages still crisp and untouched. I loved the feeling and the smell of a new paperback. I had a Kindle, but there was a certain comfort that came from holding a book in my hands. The soft hum of cicadas filled the air, their rhythm steady and soothing. I took a sip of my tea, the warmth spreading through me despite the sticky night air. My eyes scanned the first page. I felt myself sinking into the story, the outside world fading away.
I lost track of time as I read, the words pulling me deeper into a world where love wasn’t complicated or messy—at least not in a way that couldn’t be resolved. It was comforting, this escape. In real life, things didn’t wrap up so neatly. People didn’t always say what they meant or feel what they should. Take Dean, for example. He was a puzzle I couldn’t seem to solve, no matter how hard I tried.
A sharp knock at the door pulled me from the story. I frowned and looked around. I had been so engrossed in the story, I didn’t hear a car pull up. And we were out of the way enough people didn’t just show up at the door.
Maybe I shouldn’t answer it.
“Coming,” I called, the floorboards cool under my bare feet as I crossed the living room.
When I pulled open the door, my breath caught. Dean stood there in his riding leathers, the black material clinging to his broad shoulders like a second skin. His dark hair was mussed. I assumed from the helmet. He held his helmet in one hand, and he had the other hand braced against the doorframe. His eyes were dark and intense, burning into me with a hunger that made my knees weak.
It felt like a fever dream. Maybe I was stuck in some fantasy spawned from the romance novel. But then I smelled him. This was real. He was all six foot something of solid, starving man looking at me like I was on the menu.
“Are you okay?” I breathed. My body was suddenly flushed. I could feel the pajamas sticking to my overheated skin.
He didn’t answer immediately, just stared at me with that same devastating intensity. I could hear his breathing, slightly ragged, like he’d been running. The scent of leather and crisp night air clung to him.
“Dean?” I prompted when the silence stretched too long.
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I rode to Millford today.”
My brows drew together. “That’s an hour away. In the dark?”
“Needed to think.” His voice was rough, gravelly like he’d been screaming into the wind.
I nodded, still not sure why he was standing in front of me. “Okay,” I said. “And did you?”
“I did. I need you, Portia.”
The helmet hit the floor with a thud as Dean backed me toward the couch, his eyes dark with promise. I heard the door slam behind him but barely noticed. His lips slammed against mine. It was like a lightning strike, shocking and intense. His tongue pushed inside my mouth with urgency. My only response was to kiss him back.
As we broke apart for breath, his hands were everywhere: tangled in my hair, trailing down my back, and cupping my ass. I could feel the tension rolling off him in waves, like he’d been holding on to this for far too long.
“Dean,” I moaned against his mouth a second before his mouth covered mine again.
He growled low in his throat and pressed me against the couch cushions, one hand sliding underneath my shirt to skim along my bare skin. I arched into the touch, wanting more. His fingers left a trail of fire on my stomach as he moved lower, tracing the edge of my pajama bottoms.
My heart was thundering in my chest as he kissed his way down my jawline and nibbled at my earlobe. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured against my neck.
My breath hitched at his words. I knew it was more than just desire talking. There was something deeper there, something he had been holding back for far too long.
As if sensing my thoughts, he pulled back to look at me once again. His eyes were intense, but there was also a vulnerability there that made me want to hold on to him tightly.
“I need you,” he said again, this time softly enough that I could feel it in every word. “I don’t want to lose you.”
I wasn’t sure if he noticed, but he had me pinned beneath him on the couch. I wasn’t going anywhere. I couldn’t if I wanted to. And I definitely didn’t want to. The kiss deepened with his hand massaging my breast. It sent shivers down my spine as he trailed his fingers over my stomach and under the waistband of my pajamas. He kept moving until his hand was cupping my heated core. I gasped when he slipped a finger inside me, feeling the heat of his touch against my inner walls.
I arched into him, needing more. More of this raw, passionate connection that felt so right. His other hand moved up to cup my breast, his thumb rubbing circles around my nipple as he continued to kiss me deeply.
“Dean,” I moaned, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling him closer.
His thick erection rubbed against me through our clothes, leaving no doubt how much he wanted this as much as I did. We broke apart for air again, both panting heavily. He jerked at my top, popping buttons as he opened my expensive silk pajamas.
He hopped off the couch and dropped the leather jacket and then the chaps. I stared up at him. Dean was not a man who wore clothes casually. He could make a paper bag look hot. The sight of his tall, muscular frame in nothing but black briefs was hot enough to make me forget the rest of the world existed.
He climbed back onto the couch and positioned himself between my legs. I could feel his heat and the hardness of his cock against my thigh. He trailed kisses down my chest and abdomen, stopping when he reached my panties.
“Do you want these off?” His voice was rough with desire.
“Yes,” I breathed, nodding eagerly.
He smiled wickedly and pulled my panties to the side before burying his face in my folds. I gasped when his tongue ran along my heated flesh. He lapped at my clit, taking me from mildly aroused to writhing under him in a matter of seconds. His fingers teased and played with my clit, driving me wild with pleasure. I grabbed fistfuls of his hair and arched off the couch, moaning his name as an orgasm washed over me.
He kissed along my inner thigh, nipping softly before finally pulling off my panties and tossing them aside. His eyes never left mine as he positioned himself at my entrance. He pushed inside me slowly but surely until he was seated firmly within me. Both of us groaned.
He started to move slowly at first until he was slamming into me hard enough to slide me up the couch. He growled in frustration and rolled away. He stood and pulled me to my feet before spinning me around. I stumbled and leaned forward, which was exactly what he wanted. He lifted me up, one arm wrapped tightly around my waist, and pushed into me roughly from behind, burying himself deep. I cried out with the pleasure rolling through me in powerful waves.
His teeth grazed my shoulder before he sucked on my neck. He began to pace himself, thrusting in and out of me with a steady rhythm that matched our ragged breathing. Each stroke felt fiercer than the last, as if he were trying to claim me completely.
Then without warning, he pulled out and spun me around once more before pressing me against the wall beside the couch. His hands moved over my body possessively as he slipped back inside me again. The forcefulness of his movements was different now. It was much harder and deeper than before. It was a visible sign of his need for release as well as his determination to remind me who was in control here.
I didn’t care. He owned my body in the moment. I was happy to give it to him. My spine pushed against the wall. He growled low in his throat and kept pounding into me. A trickle of sweat ran down my temple. The heat from his body scalded me in the best way.
He pulled out suddenly, causing a soft cry to escape me. He turned me around to face the wall, one hand on my hip and the other gripping my shoulder. He pounded into me until I thought I would scream with pleasure. And then suddenly, just as I thought I couldn’t take any more of it, he stopped. He leaned his head against my shoulder, dragging in deep, ragged breaths.
“Shit, sorry,” he murmured.
“What?”
“Too rough?”
“Hell no,” I answered. “Don’t stop.”
He chuckled low in his throat before grabbing my hand and leading me to the bedroom. He looked around before pushing me toward the bed. I sat down and scooted back. He followed me, his body covering mine once again. He sank into me with a slow groan.
“Fuck,” he breathed out.
His lips met mine in a fiery kiss that made my mind go blank for a few precious seconds. My legs wrapped around his hips instinctively as he began to move faster and harder than before. He growled low in his throat when I met him thrust for thrust, encouraging him to go deeper still.
He leaned down to bite at my neck gently before trailing hot open-mouthed kisses over my neck and then back to my mouth. I couldn’t hold back any longer; I cried out his name as an orgasm rocked through me. He followed soon after, groaning loudly as he poured himself into me completely. We lay there panting, trying to catch our breaths. I didn’t know what just happened, but holy shit.