29. Katie
29
KATIE
What is this life?
I lie back in the bath, the sweet scented bubbles piled up around me and watch as Dallas strips in front of me.
He’s not being seductive about it. In fact he’s being brisk and to the point, like he is with so many things, except handling me apparently, if the way he just undressed me was any indication.
But despite his efficiency, it’s still the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
I slip my fingers beneath the water and trail them up and down my thigh. He watches the movement of my arm, his eyes darkening with a flare of lust so desperate it has me clenching my legs together.
“Go on, princess,” he rasps. “Get ready for me.”
I bite back a moan and relax my legs. “Thought you liked putting in the work. ”
“Fuck.” He shoves his jeans down his legs, releasing his already hard cock.
Truly, I’d have been disappointed if he wasn’t hard from what we’ve done so far, because I am desperate already. He steps forward, out of his jeans and closer to the bath.
I know he’s going to bypass me and climb straight into the water, but I reach up and wrap my fingers around his length before he has the chance.
He freezes. I pump my fist once, then twice.
A groan escapes from somewhere deep in his chest. He’s staring down at me, chest heaving. I lean in and swipe my tongue across the tip of his erection. His hand settles in my hair.
“This isn’t like last time, Katie.”
“I know,” I say, before sliding my mouth down his length. I sit back, my fingers still wrapped around him. “I know who you are this time, Dean.”
His hand tightens in my hair at the use of his name and I don’t even think he’s aware the movement brings my face closer to him again.
I swirl my tongue around him, pumping the rest of his length with my hand. He holds still, either frozen by my brazenness—which at this point shouldn’t still be surprising him—or because he simply wants to let me set my own pace.
“Fuck. God, that’s good,” he mutters. He tips his head back and groans, long and low. Then steps away.
He bends down. His hand is still in my hair, controlling my movements, so he can tilt my head at the perfect angle to plant a scorching kiss on my mouth. “You have a filthy mouth, princess. ”
“From memory, so do you,” I say, moving back as his fingers slip free from my hair. “Now, get in here with me.”
I slide forward in the tub and Dallas gingerly climbs in behind me. When he settles back, he wraps his uninjured arm around my waist and hauls me back into him. His rock hard shaft presses into my ass and he wriggles so it’s not poking me quite so aggressively. Time for that later.
I lean back against his hard body, resting my head on his shoulder and revel in the feeling that flows through me as he presses a gentle kiss to my temple.
“We can take this as fast or as slow as you like,” he says into my hair, the breath of his words whispering along my temple. “I just need you to be a little more sure before we tell Sadie.”
I nestle into him. “I understand about Sadie, but I hope we don’t have to take things too slowly.” I jerk my hips back, feeling the pressure of his cock press into me.
Dallas lets out a low grunt. “You know the best thing about hurting my arm?”
“What’s that?” I ask, confused at the abrupt change in topic.
“That it was my left arm.” With that, his right hand clamps down on my thigh. He lifts my leg, hooking it over his, spreading me wide open.
Dallas keeps his bandaged arm out of the water, and instead threads his fingers into my hair, holding my head in place against his shoulder.
I whimper as his right hand leisurely strokes between my knee and hip, straying ever closer to where I want it. He teases me relentlessly, until I turn my head and bite the soft skin of his neck, sucking it into my mouth to soothe the pain away .
“I thought you’d be accomplished enough to use either arm,” I say into his ear, my voice a breathless moan.
“Oh, I am, princess. I’m just better with my right.”
And finally, he places his hand flat over my pussy and presses down.
I moan and thrust my hips up, chasing the pressure, chasing the release I’m going to find from it.
He brushes another gentle kiss across my forehead. It’s a stark contrast to the two fingers that find my clit and twirl in a tight circle.
“More,” I pant.
“Not yet,” he whispers back. “We have time.”
“I’ve waited long enough,” I say. “Either fuck me with your hand, or I’m going to have to do it myself … on your cock.”
His grips tightens in my hair, until it’s almost painful, but I relish the way I affect him, especially when he slides his hand lower and slides a finger inside me.
“More,” I say again.
“Impatient, are we?”
“Obviously.”
He chuckles in my ear and the warm sound, the affection in it, shoots straight to the spot his hand is, right as he adds a second finger.
I arch back, the sound I make incoherent and raw.
“Ride them,” he whispers.
I bear down and twist my hips, rolling them until the pressure is just right and I’m a shaking, sobbing mess, only upright because Dallas is holding me tight against him .
“Good girl,” he murmurs, between more soft, gentle kisses. “Now, up.”
He withdraws his hand and I moan at the loss.
Immediately, he’s helping me up and turning me with sure but gentle hands until my ass is on the edge of this fancy antique bathtub, Dallas kneeling between my legs.
“You good?” he murmurs, pressing more kisses to my skin, this time along my thigh. I nod shakily. “Don’t slip,” he says.
He picks up my leg, brands a searing kiss to the inside of my knee, then slings it over his shoulder and licks straight up the centre of me.
I cry out and my fingers knot in his hair. His injured arm is wound around behind my ass, holding me in place. His good hand is resting on my thigh, but after several long, slow licks, he slides his fingers back where they belong.
The pressure and dual sensations send waves of want and desire and lust through me as I stare down at this man, who’s opened his heart to me, and left it open, even with me trying to slam that door closed at every turn.
His eyes lock with mine as he twists his fingers and the orgasm hits me like I’ve run into a wall at full speed. I cry out again as Dallas holds me to him, his face against my thigh as I ride it out.
When the tremors subside, he peers up at me, his smile sheepish. “Sorry, this bath isn’t very relaxing,” he says, not looking at all sorry.
I run my fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. I’m feeling pretty fucking relaxed.”
He laughs and stands. Miraculously, we still haven’t got his bandage wet. He steps out of the bath, avoiding my grasping hands. “Do you want to finish your bath?”
“No,” I snap. “I want to finish you.”
He wraps a towel around his waist, hiding the goods. Only when it’s secure does he come near me again. “There’s time for that later. Enjoy your bath.” His hand settles on my shoulder and he gives a gentle push, encouraging me to slide back into the water. “I’ll see you soon. When you’re ready,” he says, then leaves the room and pulls the door closed behind him.
“How the fuck am I supposed to enjoy my bath now?” I shout, petulantly slapping the water.
I hear his deep laugh rumble through the walls and again, the affection in it does something funny to my insides.
It’s not the cocky cowboy laugh he used with me the first night. Not the one he used at work those first few weeks when it was obvious he was just tolerating me. This is the laugh he uses with his friends, his family. The laugh he uses with the people he cares about most.
I step out of the bath and grab a towel, drying off the excess water and wrapping the fluffy fabric loosely around me. Leaving my clothes scattered across the bathroom floor, I swing the door wide open.
Dallas is across the room on the couch, facing away from me. He turns at the sound of the door, sending me a mock scowl. “You’re supposed to be enjoying the bath.”
“Yeah, well, now I want to enjoy your bed.” I saunter across the room, push the door open to the room I know must be his and head inside, dropping the towel as I cross the threshold.
His room is exactly how I imagined it would be. Calm grey walls, a navy blue duvet with dark sheets, the bare minimum of pillows. A wooden dresser in the corner has more of Sadie’s artwork and pictures of her displayed on the top, along with a couple of men’s toiletries.
I crawl onto the bed and flop down, right in the centre. A moment later Dallas is leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed against his chest. The stance shows off everything, from his biceps, strong chest and narrow waist to the decidedly delicious bulge under the towel he’s still wearing.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he mutters as he stalks across the room.
I laugh. “Come here, cowboy.” I pat the bed beside me, then stretch languidly. I know exactly what I’m doing and it’s nothing that’s going to help what’s under that towel, unless he lets me near him.
Still grumbling, Dallas climbs onto the bed and lies on his side, facing me.
“Improved, but could be better.” I tug at the towel until it comes free, then slide my hand down his thigh. The muscle is hot and hard under my palm. I glance up, my eyes locking with his and something in his gaze brings my wandering fingers to a halt. “What’s going on, cowboy?”
He sighs and rolls onto his back. “It’s stupid.” He rubs a hand across his eyes.
“Hey,” I reach up and tug his hand away, rolling up onto an elbow so I can look him in the eye. “Dallas, what’s going on?”
“You’re here, laid out in my bed, naked, looking like a god damn dream come true … and my brain just keeps freaking out over what happens if I lose you. ”
I cup his face, stroking my thumb over his cheek, the touch comforting rather than sensual. “We both know I haven’t exactly been settled about being back here,” I say. “Your caution is warranted. But …” I take a deep breath. I need to say the next words, for him and for me. “I’m in this, Dallas. I really am. We can slow things down if you want, but I promise. I’m right here with you.”
Dallas draws in a slow breath, closing his eyes and absorbing my words. He turns his head and presses a kiss to the inside of my wrist. A tiny gasp releases from somewhere in my chest and when he turns his face back to me again his eyes are clear and determined.
He traces a line across my eyebrow, down my cheek, then sweeps a finger over my lips. “I don’t want to slow things down,” he says. “Because I’m pretty convinced you’re it for me. I want you to stay here, because I love it here and Sadie loves it here, and your family—our family—is here. I think you can love it here, but really, in the end … I don’t think it’ll matter where we are.”
Heat races down my cheek and Dallas brushes his thumb across it, swiping away the tear.
“Sorry,” I mutter, more heat flooding my cheeks, but this time it’s embarrassment, not tears.
“Don’t be sorry, princess.” His voice is too soft over the stupid nickname he’s always said with a mocking lilt to his voice.
“I want that too. I want to be here, with you and Sadie. Please.”
He surges up off the bed and captures my mouth with his. I immediately open for him and he draws at my tongue. He pushes me back down onto the bed and rolls over me. His towel has been left behind and the fiery heat of his bare skin connects with mine.
I gasp out a breath and hook my leg around him, pulling him closer.
“We do have to slow down for just a second right now,” he says, breaking off another scorching kiss.
“What? No. Why?” I whine, wriggling underneath him as he reaches for the bedside table, pulling out a foil packet.
“I have a kid and although I love her to death, I didn’t exactly plan for her so I’m a bit paranoid about protection.” He waves the packet in my face while I laugh.
“Okay, fair. But hurry up. You’ve made me wait long enough.”
He kisses me, then pulls back and rolls the condom on. I expect him to resume his position on top of me immediately, but he doesn’t. He pauses there, hard length resting against my thigh and he just stares at me for a long moment while I pant and try not to writhe desperately while he admires whatever he’s seeing. His hand wanders across my body and when it grazes my nipple I lose all control, grasping for his hips and pulling him flush with mine.
“You can look later,” I growl in his ear as I lift my legs and wrap them around his waist.
He lets out a breathless, throaty chuckle, then thrusts his hips forward, sliding all the way in. We moan together and when I open my eyes I’m staring directly into his.
This is new. Our first night we never ended up like this. We used hands and mouths and finally, I straddled his lap and rode him while he lay on my bed, encouraging me with words and his hands on my hips. But this … this kind of closeness, between our bodies and hearts. This kind of intimacy. We didn’t have any of this .
He fuses our mouths together and draws his hips back. He holds himself with just the tip of his cock still in me until I’m whimpering against him, clawing at his back.
I unlock my mouth from his. “Just fuck me already.”
He meets my eyes and there’s some kind of uncertainty there, like he’s not sure this is the right way to be doing things. I run my hand down his face, cupping his cheek. I brush my lips across his cheek. “It’s already special, because it’s you,” I whisper.
His eyes slam closed at my words and he thrusts forward, causing us both to utter desperate groans again. This time he doesn’t stop, not until I’m shaking and trembling, teetering on the edge, his hand thrust into my hair and his hips pounding into mine.
“You’re mine, cowboy,” I whisper into his ear and he drives into me, pressing me down into the bed. At the guttural moan coming from his throat, his hand tugging at my hair and the possessive way his hand curls under my ass and squeezes, I shatter.