My whole body’s on fire, my hands are everywhere on his, nails raking down his chest and abs, watching in awe as they contract under my touch.
I’m suddenly sitting, facing the TV, and fuck if I know who’s winning the game. Dean takes off my blouse fully, tossing it over his shoulder and quickly unsnapping my bra from around my ribcage. He moves in closer, getting his hands underneath me and unzipping my skirt. My panties are removed with the same tug he uses to get me out of my skirt.
I’m completely naked before him, and I’ve never felt more powerful, more alive, more…me.
“Christ,” he breathes, one hand going to my slightly round stomach, his eyes going to my pussy, staring down with such an intensity I’ll probably come from that alone.
“God, kitten, just look at you.”
Even if he says the usual ‘you’re so hot, you’re so tight, blah, blah, blah,’ it won’t matter ‘cause it’s Dean, and I know he’ll mean it.
“Your skin,” he says, gliding both hands over either side of my ribcage, knuckles grazing the underside of my breasts.
“So soft. And baby, look at your hips,” his hands move there next, digging into the suppleness there. I wasn’t expecting him to complement on such mundane parts of my body.
“Can I taste you?” he asks, and my heart’s doing sommersaults. Another streak of heat dances from the top of my head to my pussy, and I pull in a sharp breath at his question.
“Yes, you can.”
Dean takes his time kissing up one of my inner thighs, slow, drugging kisses that make my heart trip, and make the ache inside me ten times worse. He’s driving me absolutely insane.
“Dean…” I warn, spreading my legs wider, giving him more access. I look down at him, my whole body shaking with need.
His tongue laps against me, slow, and careful. The sensation has me bucking my hips, my back bowing, as stars start to explode behind my eyes.
There’s something to be said for going slow.
“Dean…” I whimper, straining to get more of his tongue on me. “I want to come.”
“In a minute, kitten,” he says, licking me again in that infuriating slow way of his. My whole body trembles and a moan escapes me. Dean licks me faster this time, his tongue the perfect friction. God, and then he puts his entire mouth on me and sucks.
I cry out, body contorting as the orgasm rips through me, destroying all my cells, all my molecules and putting me back together into a different human being with the same face and body.
Dean nips at the softness of my inner thigh, making me jump. He kisses his way up my belly, and frowns at my boobs. “I haven’t paid enough attention to these yet,” he says, voice deeper, impossibly sexier.
“Do you want to take this to the bed?” he asks, pushing hair back from my face.
I can only nod. If I speak, I might tell him I’m chaining him to the bed and not letting him out of my sight for the rest of his life.
I stand on unsteady feet, Dean still in his dress pants and socks, who guides me into my bedroom where he turns down the covers for us, and opens the light.
Dean drops his pants and his Star Wars boxers, and I’m confronted with the best looking ass I’ve ever seen on a guy. All muscular and perfect, I might just be taking a bite out of that later.
“C’mon, kitten,” he says, patting the bed once he’s settled himself in it, covers over his hips.
“Why are you being shy?”
Even his cheeks are red, and he keeps licking his lips like he’s trying to remember what I taste like.
“You’re one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen…” he says, staring at me with such authenticity that whatever I have left of my frozen heart gives a feeble thump, thump, thump.
“Except for Mace Windu’s lightsaber. That shit’s purple.”
I start laughing, crossing my arms over my stomach to try to keep it in, but the laugh’s taken over. I throw my head back and laugh, getting an ab workout in the process. When I look back at him, he crooks his finger at me, beckoning me closer to my prize.
Where a very naked Dean Carter is now waiting for me to have my way with him.
You won. Just like you said you would. You got him in bed. Now what?
Chapter 26
What do we do now?
“Dean, now’s not the time to be telling me I pale in comparison to a fictitious sword, ‘kay? I mean, I could just put my clothes on and leave you alone so you and your hand can get reacquainted,” I smirk, running my hands through my hair, watching him watch me, eyes trailing tangible strokes of fire along my body.
“No! I mean… no, don’t do that,” he mumbles, keeping his eyes on my face now. “I was just joking. You’re more beautiful than a lightsaber.”