Chapter 2 #2
Dillon still doesn’t pull me off him, so I hollow my cheeks, my tongue swirling around his length, tracing the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock.
He releases his hold on my hair, and I surge forward until he brushes the back of my throat, which convulses around him as I fight the urge to gag, my eyes watering.
That’s when he breaks, lunging down to grab me by the arms and pull me up.
His breath is heaving as he manhandles me over the bed, pressing me down onto my stomach, my ass hanging over the head.
Dillon kicks my legs open, and then, with one brutal thrust, forces every inch inside of me.
I cry out, but he’s reaching around, shoving two fingers in my mouth, thrusting them in time with his cock as he drives into me again and again and again.
The sound of our skin slapping together fills the room, and his other hand clamps down on my hip, holding me in place.
“Fucking look at that,” he mumbles, his voice awed. “The way your ass moves every. time. I. thrust.” Each word is punctuated with a jab of his hips. Dillon pulls his fingers out, his hand sliding under my body, cupping my pussy like he owns me. And he does.
Dillon splits his fingers into a V, trapping my throbbing clit in between them. “You gonna come again?” he asks, voice demanding.
“No,” I breathe out weakly. “Too much, too soon.”
He laughs—a rasp of sound that shoots electricity down my spine. “Too bad.”
Panic swells as he slows his thrusts down, concentrating on swirling his fingers around my swollen flesh, touching me just so.
I can feel it building, the tide dragging me along forcefully, no matter how much I try to pull away.
I shake my head, and Dillon leans forward, whispering into my arm, “You started this, Angel, and there’s only one ending—you coming all over my cock. Get me?”
“Dillon—”
“Uh-uh,” he cuts me off. “The word I want is yes.” He pulls out, almost completely leaving me, and a desperate whine escapes—one that sounds nothing like me. “Give it to me, Charlie.”
I’m helpless against the order, ecstasy bowing my back as I writhe against his dick, sending him sliding so deep inside me that it aches.
His fingers never stop, constantly moving on my clit until it feels like I’m drowning in waves of pleasure, moisture sliding from my body around his cock, coating both of our thighs.
“Oh, fuck yes,” Dillon groans loudly, the sound tortured, and then he’s pulling out with a squelch so he can roll me over, pushing me up the bed.
He presses my knees together, shoving my legs toward my chest, and then forces his steely erection through my swollen flesh.
The angle is intense, tight, and deep, too much for my overwhelmed senses.
He’s relentless as he hammers into me, seeking his own release.
It doesn’t take long before I’m boneless under him, my glazed eyes staring up at him, his jaw gritted and eyes hard as they fixate on the way my tits bounce under the force of his thrusts.
His orgasm hits, his eyes falling shut, and a loud gust of air escapes his parted lips.
I feel his dick jerk, coating my inner walls with the warmth of his release.
Dillon collapses on top of me, his face buried in my neck, the hair on his thighs tickling where they brush against mine. I reach up, stroking my hands over his sweaty neck and back.
“I love you,” I whisper softly, and I feel him smile against my neck.
“I love you, too, Angel.” Dillon pushes off me with a groan, his arms trembling as his softening dick slips out of me. “I’ll clean you up.” He gets to his feet, pointing a finger at me. “Don’t move.”
I starfish, my self-consciousness diminished in the face of two seriously fucking good orgasms. “Your wish is my command.”
His mouth twitches. “Don’t tempt me, Angel. You’re not ready for another round yet.”
I tilt my head to the side, eyeing his soft dick. “And you are?” Dillon gives a valiant jerk under my appraisal, and I giggle as he growls playfully.
“Five minutes, and you’re mine.”
I scoff. “Five minutes, and you’re snoring.”
He narrows his eyes, reaching down to pinch the flesh of my hip, making me yelp. “Challenge accepted, Angel.” I sit up, swatting at him. He dodges away, heading for the bathroom with a laugh. I collapse on the bed, unwilling to move when I can still feel wetness—both of us—dripping from my core.
I hadn’t planned on jumping him like that on my way home, but it was the perfect way to drive my mother’s vitriol out of my head, along with my father’s disappointed silences.
The past twenty months with Dillon have proven to me that the house I grew up in wasn’t normal, and it doesn’t have to be my future.
“I’ve got a good idea,” he yells from the bathroom.
“What?” My voice is hoarse, and I smile, wondering how loud I got to make my vocal chords so irritated. Our neighbors probably hate us right now, and that idea fills me with an even balance of mortification and pride.
“Come shower with me, Angel,” Dillon replies, his tone coaxing. “I’ll even wash your hair.”
“Is that all?” I retort as I’m wriggling off the bed, squeezing my thighs together to prevent any more mess on the bedspread.
“You’ll have to come and find out.”
I shake my head at the taunt, already halfway across the room, the stupidest smile tugging at my cheeks, everything else but me and Dillon forgotten.