Chapter 11 #3
“Dean,” I whisper. “Just let go.”
“I—I can’t,” His voice is shaky, an ice skater on thin ice. “I need this to last.”
I swallow at what I think he’s implying. That this is it—we’re one and done. “You only want to do this once?” I ask.
“I want to do this so many times, you can’t even count. But this is the first time. And I want to savor it. Because we won’t get it again.” His explanation is heart-wrenching and it sends my stomach spiraling down a tower. Does he think I’m the one who is going to leave?
Relief washes over me, and I resolve to deal with my new-found fluttery feelings later. “Dean,” I whisper again. “It’s not any less magical just because it’s not the first time. Just enjoy yourself.”
He takes a breath, drawing it out. His arms tremble. He’s nervous. “You’re right. Fuck it.”
This is the start of a new song, it’s light and springy and makes your skin tingle when it hits your ears. Dean relaxes his jaw, and I cup my hands around his face, kissing him once more.
He shifts me off his lap, and lays me gently down on the covers, my head landing on a pillow. Dean’s lips trail down my chest to my navel to just above the fabric of my underwear. I close my eyes and sharply inhale, waiting for what’s next.
“Can I touch you?” He asks gently.
“Yes, of course.” I brace myself because it’s been a while—more than a while—but his touch is velvety smooth.
The pads of his fingers dip below my waistband, feeling and devouring, but not at all conquering.
Dean presses his palm against my pubic bone, and trails his fingers across my seam, first over my clothes, and then under.
My body, electrified with his touch, is on complete edge now.
“I’m doing this my way.” He whispers to my waistband.
He circles my entrance with a gentle finger.
I’m so wet, so fast, and it takes everything in me not to apologize for being so greedy for him.
He draws my panties down to my ankles and trails back up with kisses to my ankles, knees and inner thighs.
“Yes—” I’m about to assure him that anything goes, but he swipes a finger to my swollen clit, and my words are caught in my throat.
He stays there for a moment, circling it with his finger.
My watch vibrates on my wrist with an alarm for my heart rate.
I mindlessly take the watch off and toss it onto the floor, concentrating on the circling thing he’s doing with his finger.
Fuck this stupid watch. I don’t need it. I don’t need this anxiety.
“This isn’t even…” He trails off as he eyes me up. “This isn’t even the beginning.”
I groan with pleasure when he pushes a finger, then a second, into me. Fuck. Oh, fuck. His long fingers. I’ve watched them type, I’ve watched them steer, and now I watch them plunge into me.
I inhale and tense as Dean curls his fingers, searching for a place long untouched.
Everything in me is awake, revving with fire and verve.
I’m wound up and then unwound with every motion he makes.
He rises but doesn’t release me, to kiss my throat, and then the side of my head, his hair flopping down onto mine, our bodies fluctuating together.
This fucking man. I can’t believe he uses these fingers for anything else.
“I’m going to make you mine.” I’m at the mercy of his depravity as he breathes into my ear, kissing the side of my head. The minor fall, and the major lift.
I squirm as his fingers spread and feather within me.
I feel like I’m headed towards a black abyss, where the only thing I can feel is him and his touch.
I wrap my arms around his back and dig my nails into his skin.
“I—I…” I stutter, unable to form a coherent thought as his fingers pleasure me. A moan slips out of me again.
“Do you like when I fuck you with my hand?” Dean asks me.
“Yes, yes,” I shout, on the verge of falling over a big cliff of sensation, he presses his fingers inside of me that warms me right up. I tense my legs around his torso, my body brimming with pleasure, an orgasm bubbling its way to the surface.
“What if I fucked you with my mouth?” He asks.
“What?”
He pulls his fingers from me, and peels his body away from mine, and in a hot second, my legs are over his shoulders, and his mouth is on me.
He’s sucking on my skin and I’m writhing in his arms. Dean holds me still, steadying me by gripping my thighs as he flicks me with his tongue.
I can’t keep it in—I mumble, then shout as he licks with the tip of his tongue.
“Fuck,” I babble, my orgasm climbing up again. I teeter towards coming as he kisses and licks my sensitive skin and when he sucks on my clit, I have my first orgasm with another man in five years and it is absolutely earth-shattering.
I think I might die for real this time.
The waves of pleasure are so visceral, so innate that I struggle to stay still on the bed. I'm practically flying up and off, but Dean’s arms hold me down. As soon as I come back down, panting and out of breath, Dean swoops in with a wet, heavy kiss before I can say a word.
“You’re something…something else,” I whisper in between pecks.
I wrap my arms around his waist, itching to get my hands on him.
I feel down his back, up his thighs until I get my hands on his ass and squeeze.
“Fuck,” I mutter. His ass is so round and the hard-on pressing into my thigh is killing me.
“I need you.” Dean sits up with knees on either side of my hips.
“I need you.” I whisper again, my hands on his hips, my thumbs reaching inwards. I see the full scale of his tattoo, and I trace the loop of a petal. “I need you to fuck me.” I look up at him, his eyes blazing.
“I can’t just fuck you, Madeline, you understand that, right?” Dean groans.
“But I want you to come,” I pant, I don’t understand.
“Don’t worry about me.”
“Please, I need you to come, too,” I beg.
He pulls down his briefs, and I’m left with nothing to say. His dick…well, it matches his fucking attitude. He plays hard and has the goods to match. Dean wraps his fist around his length and pumps. I watch his hand with hungry eyes for a moment before I bring my own hand over his.
“Let me,” I whisper, and he lets go of himself. I grab him in my right hand, copying his motions and mimicking his pressure. I squeeze him firmly, feeling the entirety of his length.
Dean’s head rolls back, his hair falling off his face as he leans on his haunches. “Fuck, Madeline, if you keep that up, I’m—” He lets out a deep groan as I squeeze harder. “I'm going to come.”
I continue just the way he likes it, not slowing down, not accelerating my pace.
“Shit,” He lets out a breathy sigh and shakes, his skin damp with sweat. He’s holding back, but this time because he’s savoring it. I squeeze his thigh with my other hand.
In a few fast strokes, his breath becomes shallow, and he releases. He pulses in my hand, coming over my chest. He swoops down to kiss my swollen lips, bringing my face to him with his own hands. We breathe in unison for a minute, catching our breaths.
“Oh, god, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you all messy, I know you don’t like—”
“Dean,” I interrupt. “I’m okay. I don’t mind.”
“Don’t like a mess,” He finishes. “Let me get you a washcloth.” He climbs over me and disappears into the bathroom. I laugh at his post-orgasm floundering, his confidence seemingly dissipated.
“What are you laughing at? It’s not my pale ass, is it?” He grins, turning around.
“It’s not,” I giggle some more, as he approaches me, dabbing at my chest with a warm, wet face towel. “It’s just…I think I’ll just take a shower.”
“Whatever you need to do.” He tosses me a robe from the hook as I stand up from the bed. He puts one on too. “What do you say we get this fireplace going? And I’ll figure out where our food is?” He asks me.
“Please. I need my noodles after this.”
“Noodles coming right up.”
I know these things take time, and I especially am slow, but I think I like where this is going.