He’s worth it though.
This is worth it.
We fall asleep in each other’s arms.
*****
The next few days pass in a blur, and before we know it, it’s Dean’s last night here.
“How are we going to spend today?” he asks, pressing his lips to the back of my neck, sending shivers up my spine.
“Finding a time machine?” I joke, sighing. “I don’t know. In bed? Yes, I think that sounds perfect.”
“And what do you want to do in bed, Sabina?” he asks me, rolling me over to face him. His fingers slide inside my panties, and he slowly begins to play. “This?”
I nod, unable to speak as he grazes my clit.
When he slides a finger inside, a soft moan escapes me. Yes, this, this is exactly what I want to do on our last night together.
Over and over again.
He kisses me softly, his tongue expertly toying with mine, his fingers sensually torturing me. I start to rub his cock through the material of his grey track pants, and I can feel him harden with each touch. I tug at his pants, but need a little help from him, so he lifts his hips up while I pull them down enough for me to take his cock out and into my hands. I start to stroke him with one hand, the other reaching up to lazily play with my nipples.
I end the kiss to tell him, “I’m going to come. I want to come with you inside of me.”
He stops touching me and lies back, lifting me to straddle him. I slide down my panties and throw them on the floor, taking his hard length into my hand and holding it at the entrance of my pussy. Slowly, I slide him inside of me, inch by delicious inch, until he’s fully in me, and then I start to ride him. He lifts up the material of my white nightie until it’s over my head and off me, so I’m fully naked before him. I’ve noticed that he likes to watch while I ride him… my face, my breasts, and especially when I lift up and down on his cock. He likes to see it going inside of me. Him watching me so intently turns me on too, and excites me even more.
“Babe, kiss me,” he orders, and I lean forward, breasts swaying, and give him what he wants. His hands move to grip my arse, urging me forward, so I start to move faster. Harder. I come first like I usually do, burying my face in his neck and whispering curses under my breath, and then he comes shortly after, his hips jerking upwards as he fills me.
“Fuck,” he whispers raggedly, like the orgasm just stole every inch of energy in him.
I lift my head to look at him, and he cups my cheeks with his hands and kisses my forehead. “Is this what you want to do all day?”
“And night.”
His slow spreading smile makes my heart race. “You trying to kill me before I have to leave, Sabina?”
“Are you complaining, old man?” I reply, arching my brow.
He grins. “Never.”
We take a nap, and the next time I wake up it’s to him sliding into me from the spooning position.
Best last day ever.
Chapter Eighteen
When there’s a knock at the door that evening, I have no idea who it could be. I doubt Tara would come over today, knowing Dean leaves tomorrow morning. Unless it’s Kate? I cringe at the thought. She still doesn’t know about Dean and me, but I know she isn’t going to like it. Dean makes it to the door before me, so I stop and wait to see who it is.
When I hear him say, “What are you doing here?” in a slightly panicked tone, I’m immediately curious. As he steps outside and closes the door behind him, I’m suspicious. I open the door in time to see him ushering a woman down the hall.
“Dean, wait,” I say, making him stop in his tracks. “What’s going on here?”
I leave the door open and walk towards them.
“Sabina, go inside,” he says, but there’s no way in hell I’m going anywhere until I know what’s going on. I look down, and with the woman is a small boy.
“Who is this?” I ask, smiling at the boy. “Hello, aren’t you a cutie?”
I glance up at the woman, presumably the mother, who avoids my gaze, instead looking down at her son. She looks much older than me, with blonde frizzy hair and shrewd eyes. Dean gently grabs me by my upper arm. “Please let me handle this.”
He’s hiding something from me.
Is this boy his kid?
“Whatever it is, tell me the truth now, Dean,” I say, looking him in the eye. He winces and turns to the woman.
“This is Sam and her son, Luke.”
“And?” I say, looking at Sam, who is still avoiding looking at my face. “Is this child yours?” I look down to Luke, and wish I hadn’t said that in front of him. He looks about four, old enough to understand.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t have any kids, Sabina. And if I did, you’d know about them, because they’d probably be yours.”