7. Heather
HEATHER
“I take back any mean thing I’ve ever said about you,” I say to Dean as he hands me a giant stuffed highland cow he won for me. Not only did the man ride every ride with me—even the lame ones—he insisted we had to play the games.
“You forget I used to work at the county fair when we were in high school. I know how to beat the games.”
“Oh, I didn’t forget. I just figured that’s why you hated fairs.”
“Where is this idea coming from?” he asks.
“I guess it’s just been a long time since I dated someone who knew how to actually have fun.” I clap a hand over my mouth when I realize what I’ve said. “Wait, are we dating? I probably should’ve asked—”
Dean pulls me to a stop, yanking me behind a wood-paneled shack painted red. He presses me up against the side of it, cloaking me in darkness. “I told you, I don’t let just anyone into my bed.”
“That doesn’t technically answer my question.” The heat coiling in my belly would beg to differ, but I want to hear him say the words. “I need you to be crystal clear considering our history of misunderstandings.”
“We’re together, you and me.” He cages me against the wall, a hand on either side of my head. I drop the highland cow to my side, inviting Dean closer. The heat of his body cocoons around me. “You’re off the market, Heather. So don’t even think about going on any more dates unless they’re with me.”
“Not even fake dates to make you jealous?” I tease.
“I don’t play games,” he says, his expression turning serious. “I won’t play games. If that’s how you want this to go, I suggest we end this right here and now.”
“Hey,” I say, reaching a hand to his chest. “I was just trying to be funny. I think we’ve both experienced our fair share of toxic partners.
We don’t need to be that for each other.
I won’t play games if you don’t. Unless they’re county fair games, because you’re really good at those.
” I hold up the stuffed cow as evidence.
“You can play these as much as you want as long as you give me all the prizes.”
He cups my cheek, tilting my face up. The kiss is soft, sensual. It’s a promise of a future I never thought could exist. I don’t understand how quickly everything shifted between us, but I’m not going to question it.
I snake a hand up the back of his neck, threading my fingers through his hair, and open my mouth to invite his tongue in to tango.
The gentle, unrushed kiss turns hungry when I arch my body against his. His hand slides beneath my shirt, the warmth of his palm leaving a trail of fire up my side. Fingers graze side boob, reminding me how fucking incredible it felt to have his hands on them.
“We should probably get out of here,” I say between kisses. “Before your brother has to arrest us for indecent exposure.”
Dean breaks the speed limit by more than a little to get us home. Home. Despite how long I’ve craved this, I refuse to think too much on what the future might hold. It’s too soon to be thinking about living together or…more.
We hardly make it inside before clothes are stripped away in haste.
We’re halfway down the hallway to the bedroom when Dean presses me against the wall. My panties are the last article of clothing still on me, and he kneels in front of me as he peels them slowly down my legs.
He presses a kiss to my mound, and I whimper at the featherlight touch.
His mouth moves slowly, methodically over my center.
My panties are ringed around my knees, making it impossible to spread my legs.
Apparently, that’s how Dean wants it. With hands on my thighs, he uses that expert mouth to get what he wants.
His tongue parts my folds and slides into my valley. He strokes my clit with just the tip, and I feel my knees buckle.
“I got you, sweetheart,” he says, moving his hands to my knees and holding them in place.
He takes his time tasting me, as though memorizing my pussy.
How the man feels none of the urgency I do is a mystery I couldn’t begin to solve right now.
I’m desperate for him to plunge inside me, and yet, I never want him to stop exploring me with his mouth.
When his tongue waggles against my button, I cry out. I want so badly to spread my legs for him. He knows it too, because he just chuckles when I try. The vibration of his laughter almost takes me over the edge.
He reaches around my thigh, thrusting a finger in my channel.
“Fuck, Dean,” I pant, gripping his hair.
If he’s not going to let me spread my legs, I’m going to suffocate him against my pussy.
He flicks his gaze up to mine, revealing liquid heat in those whiskey brown eyes.
It’s a look that promises he’s enjoying me and has no intention of picking up the pace until he’s good and ready.
He takes me right up to the edge, and I start to whimper so loudly Aries shoots off down the hall in fear.
Just when I think I’m going to explode into a million pieces, Dean pulls away all at once.
“Hey,” I whine.
He drops onto his back and looks up at me with the most devilish looks I’ve ever seen. “Come sit on my face, sweetheart.”
“Sit on your face?” I’ve fantasized about this, but I’ve never been brave enough to do it with anyone else. “Will you be able to breathe?”
“I don’t want to breathe. I just want to taste you when I make you come.”
I kneel down, bracketing my knees on either side of his head, spreading my thighs wide as I lower my hips. He grabs my ass with both hands, using the grip to drag my pussy to his eager mouth. Unlike the slow, exploratory licking from earlier, he doesn’t hold back.
He devours me.
I grind my face mercilessly against his greedy mouth as I cry out his name.
I fall forward, catching my hands on the runner rug as my body convulses violently.
Dean refuses to release his mouth as I come harder than I’ve come in my life.
I didn’t know it was possible to come this hard.
It’s thrilling, terrifying, and more intense than anything I’ve ever experienced.
Only when my body stills does Dean release his mouth. He drags his tongue through my folds one last time, as though lapping up my juices.
“Fuck, you taste so damn sweet.”
“Oh good, you’re still breathing. I was worried I smothered you. But to be honest, I don’t think I could’ve stopped myself. That was…unreal, Dean.”
“I’m not done with you, yet,” he says sitting up.
I let out a sated laugh. “Will you make sure they put She died doing what she loved on my obituary?”