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Dylan(95)



“Dylan…” she whispers, writhing on the table top, all silken hair, slender limbs, and mouthwatering curves. “Please.”

A growl rises in my throat as I grab the flimsy little thing that functions as her panties and rip it down her legs. I don’t even see where it lands. In two seconds flat, I’ve unzipped my fly, pushed my pants and briefs down, freeing my throbbing cock.

Breathe in, breathe out. Control. I grab my dick and give it a reassuring squeeze. Soon, buddy. Very soon.

I put my hands on her smooth legs and part them. I run my forefinger down her exposed pussy. It’s wet and luscious, perfect like the rest of her, and I can gaze at it and play with it for hours.

Not today, though. I need her right fucking now. I push a finger inside her, and groan out loud when she tightens around it. Oh, fuck. That’s it. No more waiting.

I pull my finger out, grab my cock and push into her in one long thrust. She cries out, bending her knees, giving me better access. The heat, the pressure is incredible. She’s incredible. I grab her thighs and push deeper, the muscles in my legs trembling with the urge to start moving.

“You okay?” I ask, the words barely making it past my clenched teeth.

“Yes,” she whispers and rocks her hips, fucking herself on my cock. “Please, Dylan. I need you. Please.”

Shit, I can feel the orgasm building in the back of my balls, and she’s still moving, gliding up and down my twitching dick.

“Hold on,” I grunt, pulling her legs higher, locking them around my hips. I then brace my hands on either side of her head on the table, draw out an inch or two, and slam back inside.

We both cry out this time. Her nails screech on the wood, her legs tighten around my hips. My hips piston in and out of her, my cock sliding in and out of her rippling passage. My vision is narrowing into a long tunnel, and the only sound I can hear is my panting breaths. My stomach clenches. My balls lift. Our bodies rock together, faster and faster, sweat slicking our skin, and I look up into her eyes as the first shock of pleasure slams into me.

I love you, I think, or maybe I say it, right before my dick jerks and my mind goes white. Wave after wave rolls through me, and she starts contracting around my hard-on as she comes, too, taking my breath away.

She presses her mouth to my shoulder, stifling her cries, her pussy milking me until I think I’ll pass out from the pleasure.

Fuck me.

When I finally pull out and collapse on my back on the table by her side, barely avoiding the stack of dishes there, I see stars.

Shooting stars, I guess, since they’re leaving trails of light in my blurry eyes, and I should make a wish.

But I can’t think of anything I want, anything more important than having Tessa love me and my brothers safe, so I just close my eyes and smile.

***

“How’s it going, fucker?” Zane grabs my hand and pulls me in for a one-armed man hug. “You look less like roadkill these days.”

“Jeez, thanks for the compliment, man.” I laugh as he releases me and steps back. “I’m okay.” More than okay, in fact. I even talked to Coach West, and it looks like I may get that funding after all and go back to college. “Where’s Tess?”

“I’m putting the final touches on her tattoo. Wanna see?”

“Damn right I wanna see what you inked on my girl.”

“Be my guest.”

Zane leads the way through the shop. Tyler nods at me from the reception desk. Erin and Audrey are sitting in those awful orange chairs, talking. Audrey’s hand rests on her tummy. It’s swelling fast now, going from flat to round in the space of a couple weeks. She smiles and waves at me. I wave back.

As we pass the first booth, Ocean, the blue-haired tattoo artist of Damage Control, gives me a peace sign. I see more of the Damage Boyz as we walk. Shane is fixing one of the heaters, his long dark hair hiding his face, and Micah is talking to a customer, his short, blond hair standing up in spikes.

We enter Zane’s booth and find Tessa seated in a tall chair. She looks up, and her blue eyes brighten.

“Dylan.” She turns to the side, to show me her newly inked shoulder. “Isn’t it brilliant?”

I open my mouth, and close it. Try again. The hell? “A dragon? You inked a fucking dragon on her?”

Zane tsks as if I’ve asked the most idiotic question in the universe. “Of course I inked a dragon on her. What did you expect?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know, man. I thought Dakota asked you for one, and you said no. Your own girlfriend, and you refused.”

“That’s true.” He perches on his stool and picks up his tattoo gun. “Not everyone gets a dragon.”