Chapter 12 #2
The moment her hands unclenched in my hair, I stood up, shoved my pants down my legs, felt around on the floor for where I’d dropped the condom, and tore it open with my teeth. She watched me roll it on, her breath coming hard and fast.
Dropping to my knees again, I roped an arm around her waist and hauled her onto the floor. Stretching out above her, I positioned the tip of my cock at the warm, wet place between her thighs and eased inside her. She gasped and clutched at my shoulders.
I threw her arms above her head, pinning her wrists to the rug. “Told you I wasn’t gentle,” I growled, rocking my hips in slow but deep, hard thrusts that made her cry out with shock or pain or both.
She fought back a little, struggling to get her arms free, but I was bigger and stronger, and I took pleasure in overpowering her.
I hadn’t even taken the time to get her naked, but somehow her little flowered dress only made my blood run hotter and my instincts dirtier.
Had she worn it on purpose, knowing I’d be unable to resist her?
For a second, I imagined coming all over that pretty dress—so that she’d never wear it again without thinking about what I’d done to her.
This was all her fault.
“You knew what you were doing.” I moved over her in a rough, unceasing rhythm.
“Huh?” She sounded breathless and confused.
“You knew just how to do it.” I changed the angle, plunging even deeper inside her. “How to make me want you this way. How to make me this hard.”
“Oh, God, Dex.” She struggled to speak. “You’re so big, it hurts.”
“Good.” I wanted to punish her for making me give in, for stealing my strength. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before coming over here in a pretty little dress and putting your hands on my cock.”
I knew I was taking a risk talking to her like that—she was so fucking young and probably not that sexually experienced—but I couldn’t help it. If she slapped my face when it was over and told me she never wanted to fucking see me again, fine. I’d deserve it.
But actually, she seemed to like it. As she got used to my size, her body relaxed and she wrapped her legs around me, rocked her hips beneath me, whispered her own dirty little words.
Yes. Fuck me. Right there. So deep.
And my favorite—I’m not sorry.
She felt so fucking good. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d wanted someone this much, or needed the release so badly.
My skin was on fire. My muscles were tense.
My body moved inside her with abandon, the heat gathering at the base of my spine.
She called out my name, her voice breaking, her hips bucking up beneath me.
The storm broke, crashing over me in roaring waves that made my world turn silver, my head echo with thunder, and my cock surge and throb as I released all the pent-up tension within.
When I could see again, I stared down at her, breathing hard. Her expression was something between exhilarated and shell-shocked. Releasing her wrists, I braced my hands above her shoulders. “Fuck. Are you okay?”
“I think so.” She laughed softly. “I can’t feel my arms. Are they still attached to my body?”
“Sorry I got so carried away.”
“You warned me it wouldn’t be gentle.” She smiled. “You were right—partly.”
“Partly?”
Her eyes gleamed wickedly. “You were gentle with your tongue.”
At the memory of her thighs open before me, my heart skipped a beat. Immediately I wondered when I could taste her again.
Withdrawing from her body, I stood, yanked up my jeans, and offered her a hand. She took it and rose to her feet, pushing her dress down. Her hair had come loose. “Could I use your bathroom?”
“Sure.”
She scooped up her underwear from the floor and disappeared into the small half-bath across from the kitchen, rubbing one wrist. Closing my eyes a second, I exhaled, hoping she wouldn’t wake up with bruises tomorrow.
What the hell would she say if someone asked about them?
Locating my shirt across the room where I’d flung it, I pulled it over my head and went upstairs.
In the master bathroom, I disposed of the condom, washed my hands, and put myself back together. When I came down again, she was sitting on the couch, her hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. One arm was raised, and she was examining something on the side of her dress.
“Fuck,” I said, spotting the hole. “Did I rip your dress?”
“Yes, I think you did.”
I groaned. “God, I’m a dick. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine—it’s on the seam, so it can easily be stitched up.”
“Let me do it.”
She looked up at me in surprise. “Huh?”
“I’ll do it right now.” I headed for the stairs again. “Give me one minute to find a needle and thread.”
“You sew?”
“Yes, I sew,” I said, heading up the steps. “And I’m offended at your tone.”
She burst out laughing. “Sorry! You caught me by surprise, that’s all.”
It took me a few minutes to remember where I’d put the box my mother had given me with a tiny sewing kit in it, but I finally found it on the shelf in my closet.
Tucking it under my arm, I grabbed a TCFD T-shirt from my dresser—sniffing it to make sure it was actually clean—and headed back downstairs.
“Here,” I said, handing her the shirt. “Give me the dress and put this on.”
She presented me with her back, lifting her hair off her neck. “Can you unzip it for me?”
I tossed my shirt on the couch and did as she asked, the intimate task sending a bolt of heat to my crotch. “I probably should have done this an hour ago, huh?”
“I mean, it might have saved you the trouble of sewing the rip, but then you wouldn’t have gotten to impress me with your hidden talent.” She grinned at me over one shoulder. “Although I’m learning you have several of those.”
Another bolt.
“Okay, you’re unzipped.”
Without turning around, she lowered the dress to her feet and stepped out of it, handing it over to me.
But I stood there dumbfounded for a few seconds, distracted first by the gigantic faded bruise on her hip, and next by the barely-there, strappy black underwear she had on.
I’d been so eager to get them off her, I hadn’t noticed them before.
“Jesus,” I said, staring like a schoolboy. “Do you always have things like that on under your clothes?”
“I’m not telling you,” she teased, pulling my T-shirt over her head. “You’ll just have to wonder about it every time you see me.”
I growled like a hungry bear. “Not. Fair.”
“Pretend you don’t see the bruise, okay?”
“Is that from your fall off the suitcase?”
“Yes.”
I touched her hip gingerly. “I’m sorry. I feel responsible.”
“You should.” She smoothed the front of my shirt over her chest. “Hey, you were wearing this shirt the day you moved in.”
“Was I?”
“Trust me on this.” She dropped onto the couch, tucking her legs beneath her. “I spent a ridiculous amount of time staring at your muscles out the front window. Now come on. I want to see you sew.”
Sitting down next to her, I opened the box. The dress had a black background, so I dug around for some black thread. It took me a few tries to get it through the eye of the needle, and Winnie giggled.
“Hey, listen,” I grumbled, tying a knot the way my mother taught me. “This isn’t easy for someone with big hands, okay?”
“You do have big hands,” she said, rubbing my leg. “But I like them. And I’m sorry I laughed. You’re just concentrating so hard, it’s adorable.”
I gave her a dirty look before turning the dress inside out. “I am not adorable. I am manly and tough. Even when I’m sewing.”
“You are. And this is one hundred percent the hottest thing a guy has ever done for me.”
“Oh yeah?” I grinned as I began carefully mending the ripped seam with tight, even stitches.
“Definitely. Nothing else even comes close.” She watched me finish the job, tie a knot, and snip the thread.
Nervous, I turned the dress right side out and checked my work—probably not as good as my mother would have done, but the hole was gone and I couldn’t see evidence of crooked stitches.
I handed it over. “There you go. Sorry I ripped it.”
She took the dress from me and grinned. “Liar.”
“You’re right. I’m not sorry.” And she looked so cute in my shirt, I couldn’t resist pulling her onto my lap so she straddled my thighs once more. “In fact, put it on and I’ll rip it again. I’ll tear it to pieces this time. With my teeth.”
She laughed. “Easy, killer.”
“This is probably one of those red flags you were talking about, huh?” I slid my hands beneath the shirt to the sides of her ribcage.
“I don’t know,” she said, putting her hands on my chest. “No one’s ever torn my clothes before. Or pinned me down that way. Or said those kinds of things.”
“I guess even selfish assholes have better manners than me.”
She smiled. “I guess so. But it’s okay, because I’m not looking for a boyfriend this time, remember?”
“That’s right.” I recalled what she’d said last night. “You’re in rehab for your love addiction.”
“Exactly. So you can go right ahead and rip my clothes and pin me down and say all kinds of filthy things to me.”
I growled again, gripping her sides. “Don’t tempt me, little girl.”
“I’m serious.” She slid her palms to the back of my neck. “You can do all that and more, but don’t call me baby, don’t start believing in happily ever after, and definitely don’t bring me any more Frostys.”
“Never? Not even on your birthday?”
She shook her head. “Especially not on my birthday. Because then I would have to grow old with you, and neither of us wants that.”
I scowled. “Fuck that bullshit.”
“Then we agree. All in fun.” She smiled and leaned forward, kissing my lips. “I should go.”
I didn’t want her to leave, but I didn’t want to ask her to stay either.
Like she said, this was all in fun—and as much fun as it would be to throw her over my shoulder, take her upstairs, and have my way with her in bed, spending the night together was something people in relationships did. This wasn’t that.
Thank God we were on the same page.
She stood up and traded my shirt for her dress, turning around so I could zip it for her.
Again, she held her hair out of the way, and once the dress was zipped, I was tempted to press my lips to the back of her neck.
Wrap my arms around her waist. Bury my face in her golden hair and breathe in deep.
But this wasn’t that.
This was never going to be that.
“Thanks,” she said, facing me again.
“No problem. I’ll walk you back.”
She laughed. “Dex, I live like fifteen feet away.”
But I followed her outside anyway. “I told you before, I’m a firefighter and a dad. Keeping people safe is my thing.”
On the patio, she gave me a quick hug. “Sleep tight.”
“See you,” I said, careful not to hold her.
She walked over to her place and slid the door open, then gave me a wave. “Night.”
“Night.” I watched her step inside and called out. “Hey.”
She leaned out and looked over at me. “What?”
“I had fun tonight.”
“Me too.”
“But I don’t love you.”
She burst out laughing. “I don’t love you either.”
“Good. Now stay off my patio or else.”
She blew me a kiss and disappeared inside.
I stood there for a moment, listening to my heart thump a little louder than it should.
Grabbing the empty beer bottle from the ground, I smiled as I remembered the way she’d taken it from me and climbed onto my lap.
She was trouble, all right.
But nothing I couldn’t handle.