Chapter 18 #2
As Dean begins to move, whispering filthy sweet things about how perfect my pussy feels on him, about how many times he’s dreamt of being buried deep inside me, about how much he needs to feel me coming on his cock, I realize all the men I’ve had before were boys.
Just silly, superficial boys who had no idea what it’s like to need someone like this.
“I want you like this every day. Every day, every fucking day,” he confesses into my hair, the words hot on my neck as we writhe faster, deeper, chasing the edge together.
“Want your taste and your sweat and the sounds you make when you’re about to come for me.
Fuck, Clover, listen to yourself, baby. Listen to how sexy you are. Listen.”
But I can’t hear anything but the roar of the blood in my ears as I buck into him one more time, two, and then— “Dean! Oh God, Dean!”
I grip his ass in both hands, digging my nails in and pulling him close as my inner walls clutch and squeeze and pleasure floods my bloodstream until I’m shimmering.
Spinning.
Chanting his name again and again as the wave rolls on and on.
He comes a beat later, with a manly groan that would make any of my fantasy warrior versions of him proud. He shoves deep, holding still at the end of the thrust as he twitches and pulses inside me. And yes, I asked him to come inside me, but the fact that he’s actually doing it is…insanely hot.
Most men refuse.
Even when they know I have an IUD and we’re both STD-free. They refuse to indulge my kink, even after I’ve assured them numerous times that I have no urge to “trick” them into being a father and that my birth control is firmly in place and good for at least seven years.
But Dean…
God, Dean…
He fills me up. He comes and comes, until I can’t hold it, and our still joined bodies are making an unholy mess on the sunbed cushion. I can feel him leaking out of me, and it’s every bit as hot as my pervert brain thought it would be.
“So good,” I murmur against his cheek as he lies heavy on top of me after. “So, so good.”
“Incredible,” he agrees. He reaches down, squeezing my ass as he grinds even closer, making me suck in a breath as he shifts against my clit. “Love feeling you dripping around me.”
“Me, too,” I say, my breath hitching again as he rolls his hips in a lazy circle, making his softening, but still not completely soft, cock rub deliciously against my tingling inner walls. “Wh-What are you doing?”
“Seeing if I can make you come again before I pull out,” he says, drawing back far enough to hold my gaze.
“What do you think? Can you give me one more, beautiful?” He circles his hips again, slow and easy, and keeps circling them, staring into my soul as he grinds against my clit.
“Yeah, I think you can,” he murmurs as I begin to tremble.
“There you go. Good girl,” he rumbles as he reaches up, teasing my nipple lightly between his finger and thumb.
I want to tell him I don’t go in for the “good girl” thing, either.
But, much like butt stuff, I’m starting to think I just haven’t met a man who could make it hot before.
And it’s not like I can talk right now, anyway, not when I’m suddenly being turned inside out by a bone-deep orgasm so intense that blissed out tears roll down my face as Dean murmurs, “Good girl. Yes, fuck, that’s so good, baby.
You’re so beautiful when you come for me.
When you’re soaking my cock like this. Fuck, Clover.
Fuck, sweetheart, God, you’re so perfect. ”
“Dean,” I gasp, clinging to him as I fight to survive what he’s done to my body. “Oh, Dean.”
I almost tell him right then that I love him.
Because in this moment, with his voice warm in my ear and his body deep inside me and all the pleasure he’s given me pickling my brain in happy chemicals, I do love him. I’m not sure I’ve ever loved anyone or anything more, in fact.
Thankfully, before I can make an absolute idiot of myself, a voice calls from outside, no more than four or five feet from the shed, “See you later, Clover. I’m heading home, okay?”
Eyes flying wide and guilt flooding in fast, I call out, “I’m so sorry, Plato. So, so sorry. I’m a terrible person and friend.”
He laughs. “Nah, just horny. But don’t worry about it, you know I’m used to it.”
I wince, biting my lip for a beat before answering Dean’s unspoken question with a whisper, “His parents are swingers. He came over to escape the sexcapades.” In a louder voice, I call, “I’m still sorry. And I’ll make it up to you, I promise, okay?”
“Seriously, no worries. You crazy kids just be sure to get inside before you pass out. It’s going to get below freezing tonight,” he says, his voice moving farther away as he adds, “And check your kitchen table when you get the chance, Clover. I left you a little present.”
“Thank you,” I say, my curiosity piqued, but not enough to move a single solitary muscle toward my apartment. “Drive safe, and I’ll text you.”
“Okay,” Plato calls, followed by a sassy caw from somewhere overhead that makes me think Edgar hasn’t gone to bed, after all.
He isn’t a good boy.
And I’m not a good girl.
I’m a very bad girl who has just jumped into the deep end of the feelings pool with my boss. Who isn’t my boss anymore.
But maybe he kind of is? Maybe I kind of want him to be?
“I don’t think I should quit,” I say, as the air outside goes quiet once more. “I don’t want to abandon Ava and Bella like that. We’re already so close, and—”
“And you’ll stay close. As friends,” Dean says, pulling out and proceeding to mop us both up with his boxer briefs.
He’s so easy and relaxed about it that, for the first time in memory, the “after sex” part of things doesn’t feel the slightest bit awkward.
“I want you to stay in the apartment as long as you want. And I’ve already arranged for two months’ severance pay and a glowing recommendation with Tasha.
You can decide whether to look for another nanny job or shift to working on your design stuff full-time.
Meanwhile, you’ll also spend as much time with the guy you’re dating and his adorable kids as feels right. ”
I bite my lip, hating how bossy he’s being.
And loving how bossy he’s being.
The part of me that makes my own rules and forges my own path is at war with the part of me that loves not being in charge of a big decision for once, as I say, “The guy I’m dating, even though I don’t date men with kids, you mean?”
He nods, lips hooking into a crooked grin. “Yes, but you’ve wisely decided to make an exception to your rule just this once.”
“Wisely?” I pull on the pajama top he tosses my way. “Are you sure about that?”
“Positive,” he says.
As we finish dressing, I finally force myself to ask, “But what if there really is no future here? No matter how much both of us might want there to be? What if it just…doesn’t work?”
He pulls in a breath and lets it out slowly, holding my gaze for a beat. “Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Like grown-ups. Kind grown-ups who care about each other and want the other person to be happy.”
I let that soak in, the words hitting differently than they might have even an hour ago. Maybe magnificent sex doesn’t prove that a man’s a grown-up, but it sure as hell doesn’t hurt.
I believe Dean will stay kind, even when it’s hard.
I believe I will, too.
So, when he informs me that I’ll be accompanying him and the girls to the Mardi Gras parades on Tuesday and—assuming he can find a sitter—going to an adults’ only party with him after, I sigh and say, “Okay.”
He arches a brow, seemingly surprised that I’ve caved so quickly. “Okay?”
“I’m not completely unreasonable.” I shrug. “And I mean, with all this time on my hands, I’ll have to find something to do other than lie in bed all day touching myself and thinking about you.”
“You won’t have to worry about that,” he says, pulling me into his lap. “I’ll keep you coming, baby. You won’t have to lift a finger.”
I moan as he kisses me, long and lingering, while his fingers trail up the inside of my thigh, making me start to burn again.
Damn, this man.
I’m not sure I’m going to survive what he does to me, but hell…what a way to go.
“I was wrong,” I whisper when we finally come up for air. “Two weeks of emergency leave is exactly what you needed. Though I am curious where the new nanny is going to live if I’m still in the apartment over the garage.”
“I don’t think a live-in situation is right for me,” he says. “This time, I’ll be looking for someone who has her own place and wants to keep living in it.”
I grin. “Good.”
“Are you the jealous type?” he asks as we start toward the garage, hand in hand.
I consider the question before shaking my head. “No, I don’t think so.” We pause beside the door leading inside. “At least, I never have been before. But if anyone can make me develop a jealous streak, I think it’ll be you.”