Chapter 24 #2
I gaped at him. “You brought it up first.”
“That was emotional vulnerability. Completely different.”
I laughed again, and he shook his head, smiling despite himself. Then he paused, the humor easing out of his expression.
“Hey.” Dean studied my face. “You can tell me to stop at any point.”
“I know.”
“And if something hurts—”
“I know.”
“And if you need—”
I leaned up and kissed him before he could continue spiraling, feeling him relax against me. When we broke apart, I sighed. “You worry a lot.”
“You’re important to me.”
The words came so naturally Dean didn’t even seem to realize how devastating they were. Heat rushed through me.
Before I could respond, Dean placed the condom on the pillow before reaching for the lubricant again with exaggerated concentration.
“Okay,” he muttered. “This time I am going to look competent.”
“Can I remind you that you are an Olympic gold medalist?”
He huffed. “Yes, but tragically this skillset does not transfer.”
He squeezed lube into his palm. Far too much. It dripped through his fingers onto the sheets, and we both froze.
Dean looked down in horror. “Jesus Christ.”
I laughed so hard I nearly choked.
He pointed at the mess. “The internet said to use a lot.”
“This is not a lot. This is an ecological disaster.”
“I panicked, all right?”
At that exact moment his knee shifted awkwardly on the mattress, and he nearly lost his balance. I grabbed his arm while he caught himself against the headboard, and for one horrifying second, I thought he was about to fall off the bed.
The sheer absurdity of it shattered the last of my nerves.
Dean started laughing first, then I did, and suddenly we half collapsed against each other, laughing so hard tears burned briefly behind my eyes.
“Olympic champion,” he murmured. “Defeated by lubricant.”
I kissed his arm. “But it was perfect.”
He buried his face against my shoulder, still laughing under his breath. “This is not how I imagined seducing you.”
“You were the one who declared yourself wicked.”
“I didn’t realize wickedness required this much upper body coordination.”
I kissed him again before he could continue, softer this time, longer, and the laughter faded gradually between us until all that remained was warmth and breath and the slow slide of Dean’s fingers through mine.
He shifted his hand down my body until he reached my cock, and I spread for him, drawing my knees up to my chest.
“Well, I know what you want,” he teased.
“If you need lube, there’s some on the sheets,” I suggested, trying my best to keep a straight face.
That earned me another mock glare. “Rub it in, why don’t you?”
I looked at the bed, then feigned innocence. “Oh, is that what we’ve been doing wrong? We should be rubbing it in instead of spilling it everywhere?”
Dean stared at me before groaning and dropping his forehead to my shoulder.
“Oh my God,” he muttered. “You’re getting worse.”
“Worse?”
“Yeah. You used to be all controlled and intimidating.” He lifted his head enough to gaze at me with narrowed eyes. “Now you make terrible sex jokes with a straight face.”
“I learned from Americans.”
“That is slander.”
I laughed as Dean shook his head, still grinning. Then his expression shifted again, and the warmth I saw there stole my breath.
He leaned in close, brushing his nose against mine. “I really like this version of you.”
My chest tightened at the words.
He grabbed the bottle of lube again, squeezing it with care.
I knew where I wanted his fingers.
Dean rubbed over my hole, and I moaned. He leaned over, his mouth claiming mine while he slid his finger inside me, slowly, carefully.
I groaned into the kiss. “Tu… práve tam…”
Dean froze instantly. “Was that good or bad?”
I buried my face against his neck, laughing. “Very good.”
“Oh, thank God.”
He crooked his finger, and I arched my back. “áno… tak… neprestávaj.”
His kiss grew fierce. “I love it when you unravel.” His voice was raw and deep. “Especially when you tell me not to stop.”
And then I lost it when he slid his finger deep into me and took my cock in his mouth.
I groaned as he swallowed me, and I tugged at his hair, hips bucking. I was hopelessly torn between wanting more of that incredible mouth and more of his finger inside me.
“Dean…”
His eyes locked onto mine, and somehow that made it so much hotter, more intimate. He pulled free long enough to murmur, “Think you can take another?”
I stared at him. “Yes.” I needed it like air.
He nodded, then added a second finger, taking it slow.
I pushed my head back into the pillow. “Cítim ?a.”
“What does that mean?”
“I… I feel you,” I croaked.
“Breathe, baby.”
I jerked my head up, staring at him, lips parted.
“You like it when I say that.”
I nodded, my throat tight.
He pulled me close until my neck was in the crook of his arm, and then he kissed me, two fingers deep inside me. Now I was riding them, pushing down, feeding him constant moans. I curled my hand around my cock, tugging on it, pre-cum already beading at the slit.
“You ready for me?”
All I could manage was a nod.
Then he kissed me again, and the tenderness of that connection floored me.
I don’t remember him removing his jeans. I just know that at some point, they weren’t there anymore and his cock was pointing straight at me.
Dean grabbed the condom from the pillow, fumbled opening the wrapper because his hands were shaking, and when I reached to help, our arms got tangled.
“How can we both be this incompetent?” he demanded.
“We are overachievers in every other area of life,” I pointed out breathlessly. “Balance is important.”
“That actually sounds accurate.”
I laughed again, then stopped when Dean’s hand slid along my hip. He wore an expression of wonder, as if he still couldn’t quite believe I was here.
That look undid me faster than anything else.
“Pozri na mňa,” I whispered without thinking.
Dean stilled. “What does that mean?”
“Look at me.”
His gaze lifted immediately, and neither of us was laughing anymore.
He brushed his thumb across my cheek. “You’re beautiful.”
The sincerity in his voice nearly shattered me.
I wiped my fingers over my eyes, the tears stinging a little.
“Hey.” His voice was so gentle. “Hey, what happened?”
I shook my head once, unable to explain it properly.
“Dean… Prosím… Potrebujem ?a.”
He stroked my face. “Tell me.”
“I…I need you.” My cock leaked over my belly.
He nodded and without a word, he unrolled the condom over his hard dick. More lube, on him, on me, and finally he eased inside me, his gaze locked not on where our bodies were joined, but on my face.
I reached for him, arms wide. “Po? sem. Po? ku mne.”
Dean covered me with his body, and I wrapped my arms around him, his cock filling me, stretching me.
He kissed me, and I breathed in the smell of him, losing myself in the feel of warm, fuzzy skin against mine.
Dean cradled my head in his hands, our foreheads touching as he began to rock, taking his time.
“Tak dobre,” I moaned. When he pulled back a little, I cupped his cheek and met his gaze. “So, so good.”
He took my mouth in a heated kiss, moving a little faster, pausing now and then to look at me, to mouth you okay?
All I could do was nod.
Dean’s face, neck and chest were flushed dark red, and through it all he kept his eyes on me. Periodically, he would slow, and I cupped his nape, breathless and wanting.
“Nechcem, aby si prestal,” I begged.
The third time it happened, he laughed.
“It’s okay, I get the message. Don’t stop, right?”
I laughed, a feeling of unadulterated joy flooding through me.
I loved that kissing me distracted him. I laughed when he appeared mortified to discover he was still wearing one sock. We both laughed when we rocked the bed so much the bottle of lube went flying—again.
And then there were the pauses, those moments when we held each other, as if we were both overwhelmed by the emotional intensity of it all.
After a life of precision and discipline, I was with someone I could laugh with, mess up with, and not have a clue what I was doing. I felt emotionally exposed. I loved that we lost track at times because we were too busy staring at each other.
And when I came—him only moments later—it was so imperfect, so clumsy, so overwhelmingly emotional that I started laughing halfway through.
Dean stared at me and before he could ask me again, I cradled his head.
“I am fine,” I whispered.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“You’d tell me if—”
“Dean,” I gasped, laughing. “Please stop conducting a safety inspection while you’re still inside me.”
He made a strangled noise against my throat that might have been embarrassment. Then somehow we were both laughing again, kissing, holding onto each other as though this mattered far beyond the physical.
And somewhere between the awkwardness and the tenderness and Dean whispering my name as if it was sacred, I stopped being afraid.