His words, like a steamy exhale into the cold winter air, swirl over and wrap around me. “No, I’m most certainly the ‘best’ – not only of what’s around, but of what you’ve ever had.” His fingers pull at the fabric of my jeans, forcing me to untuck my leg from underneath me. Scooting forward, he fills the space between my legs, letting his body hover over mine as he pushes me further back against the armrest. With his mouth millimeters from my ear, he whispers, “So the real question is do you think you can tear up that ‘no one-night stand’ mentality for a night so I can show you how far from ‘eh okay’ I really am?”
Before they can form words, my lips are pressing softly against Dylan’s. When I lean forward for more of his heat and his sweet taste, he pulls back, taking away what I want most. The mischievous glint in his eyes is accentuated with a tsk falling from his mouth. Attempting to move forward again proves to be just as fruitless as he pushes me back once more. I could overtake him in a heartbeat; have him bent over this couch in an instant, screaming my name for the entire world, or at least his neighbors, to hear. But apparently, Dylan wants to play, to tease, so I’ll let him.
For a minute, anyway.
The slow, erotic teasing of his tongue over my lips eventually becomes too much even for Dylan. All restraint vanishes as he loses control. His body falls into mine as his mouth finally takes what we’ve both wanted. With one arm banded around his waist, I grip his just-a-little-too-long hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him even closer still. Tugging his lower lip between my lips, I let the hand that was at his waist drift lower, grabbing his tight ass.
He’s beneath me in an instant, completely caught off-guard by my quick movements. “You don’t know what you’re asking for?” My words vibrate against his neck. The scratch of his day-old growth is a welcomed one.
“Try me,” Dylan groans almost painfully, his chest rumbling against mine.
My tongue sweeps across his neck, biting at his collarbone. “Oh, I intend to.” I undo the first button on his shirt. “I just don’t think you’re ready.” I undo the next. “Are you?” My fingers fumble with the next one. Impatience wins over, and I tear the front of his shirt open. A button flies somewhere across the room. The sound of it skittering across the floor barely registers above the loud emptiness of our breathing, heavy with needy demand.
My hand roughly skims down his chest and flat stomach, following the line of hair that disappears below his belt. My mouth follows the same trail. A wicked smile pulls at my lips when Dylan’s breathing becomes uneven and ragged. “Just do it already.” His voice is gruff and lust-laden.
“What?” I ask, looking up at him with my hand at the buckle of his pants.
He shoves his hips up into my hand, brushing the length of his cock against my fingers. “You fucking know,” he growls.
The metal of his belt buckle clinks as I pull it through the loop. Each tick of his zipper lowering resonates in the space between us as if it’s a separate pulse. “This?” I ask, my voice a raspy-like whisper that matches the feather-light touch of my knuckles against his erection as it strains against his boxers.
“God, yes.” He lifts his hips again. “Your mouth. Suck me.” His demands grow in fervent need.
My lips hover at the band of his boxers for a moment and our eyes meet again. I make a motion to move lower before changing my path, licking up the center of his stomach once again. He’s panting wildly, beyond aroused. I slide my hand up the side of his neck, half cupping his jaw. “I’ll give you that,” I grind against him to emphasize my point, “when you give me your time.”
Shocked and not at all pleased with what I’ve just said, Dylan’s eyes go wide. He opens his mouth to speak, but I shut him up with a hard heated kiss. Somehow, I manage to pull myself away from him. It’s taking all my strength not to give into him, not to give into the physical pull between us.
I don’t bother adjusting myself when I stand next to the couch. I want him to see how he affects me, to think about just how good it’ll be. Dylan stares up at me with a confused and more than pissed off look in his eyes. “Three dates. That’s what I want from you before I give you what you want.” His gaze falls to the crotch of my jeans. “What we both want,” I add as an afterthought.
He doesn’t say anything, just lays staring at me as if I’ve just said something in another language. After rubbing a hand over my face and up through my hair, I step away from him and grab my jacket from the chair.
By the time I reach the door, he’s behind me. We stand there, silent for a minute, me facing the door, him facing my back. When he clears his throat, I turn to face him. Dylan shoves his hands in his front pockets, and rocks on his heels. “Three dates. I mean it.”
“But−”
“No. I’ve done the purely physical relationships and I know that they never work. I want to learn more about you.”
He nods, and then hangs his head as I open the door. I turn back to him once I’m in the hallway. He leans against the frame, looking a little less angry than he did a few minutes ago. “Call me.”
He laughs. “Like you’ve left me much of a choice.” The playful look in his eyes returns as he smiles at me.
“Exactly.” I walk away, a smug and satisfied grin plastered to my face. It doesn’t go away the entire ride home.
“What the hell happened in there?” Reid scowls at me over the hood of my car. I shrug, not wanting to rehash the last hour of my botched session with the group of Calhoun High School students who have been involved in bullying.
“Nothing happened,” I deflect.
We both slide into our seats and I turn the engine on. “Bullshit nothing happened. You were all agitated and on-edge with Dean. He was the one kid who looked like he could have been reasoned with, could have turned the group around, but you chewed him out once he said one wrong thing.”
“It’s just been a bad week, okay?” No, I haven’t told Reid about my date with Conner, or how I haven’t stopped thinking about him for one minute in the three days and two nights since I saw him last.
“That’s a load of crap, Dylan, and you know it. Carlo needs your help and you know his case inside and out. It’s going to take at least three more sessions before we can get back to a decent starting point.” The frustration is rising in Reid’s voice and he’s not exactly overreacting. I did fuck it up. I made a mistake by asking the wrong question and pushing the kid too far.
It’s amazing how quickly someone’s defenses go up when they hear something they don’t want to.
I laugh inwardly at my foolishness. Dean only reacted the same way I would have. He became defensive and aggressive. He shut down and pushed away everyone who was willing to listen. “I wasn’t thinking, okay?” Shaking my head, I become frustrated with my own stupidity.
“You knew about Dean’s father. How he’s always on him to be the best at everything, especially football so you bring up the main issue that’s brewing between Dean and Carlo.” My anger starts to boil.
