Keeping my thumb pulsing in and out slowly, I finally let my hips move, pulling out completely before thrusting into her in one snap of my hips. Her moans spur me on and I continue working her until I feel her flutter around me, knowing she’s close. Pulling my thumb free, I reach my arms around her. I pullher up so her back is flush against my chest and hold her breasts in my palms as I rock up into her, faster and harder until she stills in my hold. Blood hits my tongue from biting my lip to keep from spilling inside her while she rides out her own orgasm.
“That’s it, darlin’,” I whisper, dropping one hand to her clit, rubbing gentle circles around it, making her clench harder around me before she can even catch her breath. I’m building her up for another one. “One more.” My kisses against her temple and neck are sloppy as I thrust uncontrollably, feeling my spine tingle as my own release begins to overtake all my senses. On a loud growl, I crush her in my arms, feeling my dick throb inside her as I fill her with my cum.
“Yesss,” Hannah hums softly, our bodies slick with sweat. I can feel my heartbeat racing against her back. Kissing her softly, I roll down on my back, pulling her onto my chest. “Hi.” She smiles against my heart.
“Missed you,” I say, running my fingers through her hair, gently tugging at the tangles. The next time she shifts, I feel myself slide out of her. As I watch my cum drip down her legs, I feel a new wave of possessiveness wash over me. Without hesitation, I ease off the bed, sliding onto the floor. She eyes me curiously, but comes willingly as I grab her ankles and pull her towards me. My eyes stay locked on hers as I lower between her legs, the smell of us making my mouth water and my dick twitch, ready for another round. Slowly, I stick my tongue out, watching those deep brown eyes turn into melted pools of chocolate as I lick up her inner thigh and over her dripping center. I can’t help the groan of satisfaction that slips free. Fuck, we taste so good together. I keep some of our cum against my tongue. Crawling over her body, I rest on my forearms. With a tilt of my head, she obediently opens her mouth. I want to watch it fall from my lips onto her awaiting tongue, but I want to watch her eyes as it hits her more. The moment she tucks her tongue back behind herlips, her eyes roll, savoring the same taste that has me already itching for more.
Before I can ask if she’s done playing by her stupid rules and will finally admit that she’s mine, she rolls off the bed and steps into the bathroom. I listen to the water run, throwing my arms behind my bed, unable to stop the full on smile that tugs at my lips.
“Dean Wilder, smiling?” she crows once she comes back into the room, reaching down and tugging her shirt over her head.
“Only for you, darlin’.” I smile back, watching her as she looks around the room, her eyes doing a double take at my countertop. I follow her gaze and my smile grows when I see what she’s spotted, sitting brim up, just waiting for her to put over her wild brown curls.
“What’s this?” she asks cautiously, taking small steps towards the pink cowboy hat. She doesn’t touch it, but leans over it, eyeing it like it’ll reach out and bite her.
Pushing off the bed, I fish a pair of sweats out of my bag and shrug them on as I walk up behind her, looping my arms around her shoulders. “A hat,” I say simply, peeking around to watch her face.
“I see that…but why is it here? And why is it pink?”
Chuckling, I reach down, spin the hat between my index fingers, and place it over the crown of her head. “It reminded me of you,” I whisper against her neck, breathing her in.Fucking home.
“Dean…I.” She turns towards me, pulling it off her head to get a closer look at it. “It’s so…” My lips tip up, watching her fingertips glide along the soft leather. Her nails are painted just a few shades darker than the dusty rose color of the Mitchell hat.
Before she can say anything else, a timid knock sounds at the door. I kiss her forehead quickly before crossing the space,looking back to make sure Hannah is hidden from view and throwing open the door.
hannah
I twirlthe hat in my hands, memorizing every stitch before placing it back on my head and turning my attention to the door. Dean’s body is outlined by the afternoon sun, each muscle etched to perfection, and I can’t believe that I get to call him mine. Well, I’ll be able to once he deals with whoever interrupted us, that is.
“Hi, Dean.” A woman’s gentle voice is just loud enough for me to hear. It’s not until I notice Dean snap his head towards me before looking back out and stepping outside, shutting the door behind him quickly that I grow curious. On tiptoes, I sneak over to the door, pressing my ear against it. The voices outside are quiet and muffled through the door, so I look over at the window above the sink. I should feel guilty for invading his privacy, but something about the look on his face when he opened the door was like he’d seen a ghost. Leaning over the sink, I say a silent prayer that the window will open quietly. My fingers grip the plastic edge and pull sideways. The frame slides easily, and instantly the conversation floods through the screen.
“Just come home and we can talk, it’s been years.” I catch a glimpse of the woman I heard earlier. She looks to be in her early sixties, her graying hair pulled into a loose ponytail at the top of her head. Sunglasses cover her eyes, but I don’t miss the way she wipes under them every so often. When she speaks next, her voice is thick with emotion. “We miss you.” I bite my thumb, watching the interaction, trying to determine who these people could be. Dean stands with his back to the window. I can see the tension that lines the muscles of his bare back from here. His hands clenched tightly to the sweats around his hips. He doesn’t sound mad when he talks, but more like he’s ashamed.
“It’s been too long to go back and fix what I’ve done.” Those brown strands that I had wrapped in my fingers minutes ago fall over his face when he drops his head.
An older man steps into view, his weathered hand resting on Dean’s shoulder. Something about the couple looks oddly familiar, but I can’t place where I’ve seen them before. Boots crunch over the parking lot, and another man joins the couple and Dean. I cock my head, leaning closer to the screen, trying to get a better look at him. I think he’s the man that chased Dean down a few weeks ago, but I can’t get a good look at him.
“It’s never too late, son,” the older man says, pulling Dean into his arms. Blood pounds in my ears, drowning out whatever is said next. I watch as Dean’s shoulders shake, and the woman steps in and wraps her arms around his back. Moving as silently as I can, I reach for my jeans and tug my phone free. Frantically, I scroll back through my pictures and pull up the screenshot from the online article I read a while ago. My heart drops into my stomach and I have to swallow down the acid rising in my throat. I race back to the window, eyes bouncing between the image on my phone and the people outside. Brad and Jodie Wilder hug their son, my Dean, between them. And who I now know isn’t a stranger, but Dean’s younger brother, Owen, talksquietly just on the other side of the wall. I can feel my heart shatter inside my chest, tiny fragments imbedding in what I thought was a healed wound. He has a family, a veryalivefamily. One that clearly loves him, one that wants him to come home and visit.They aren’t around anymore. I didn’t imagine him staying that to me last time we were in Colorado. Did I misinterpret what that meant?
In a frenzy, I tug on my clothes, just getting my last boot on when the door swings open and Dean fills the door frame. He takes one look at me, fully clothed and fuming before he opens his mouth.
“Don’t,” I say between clenched teeth, the burning in my eyes telling me I’m about two seconds away from a well of tears running down my face.
“Hannah, please let me explain.” Dean closes the door behind him and puts his hands out in front of him in a poor attempt to calm me down.
“Youliedto me,” I seethe, taking a step towards him. His eyes are puffy and tears stain his cheeks.
“I never lied, I just…” Dean throws his head back and lets out a pained blow of air. “I just didn’t tell you everything," he whispers, eyes looking down at the floor.
“What part ofthey aren’t around anymore,” I echo his words, jabbing him in the chest with my finger, “is truthful?”
“They aren’t,” he bites back, then winces. “Weren’t, until today.”
“LIES!!” I yell in his face. “That was your brother, Owen, in the parking lot when we were in Evergreen, wasn’t it?” He drops his chin, clearly remembering and caught in another lie.
“Yes, but darlin’—”
“Don’t you fucking dare.” The well breaks and I feel hot tears drip down my face. “You listened to me tell you all about my family.” I close my eyes and remember that night in the rentalhouse tangled under the sheets, holding on to one another. Dean had asked me about my childhood and I’d felt safe enough to open up about my parents and how losing them had fractured every belief I once had about love and family. I could laugh now, thinking how stupid I was to fall for his bullshit. “I confided in you, let my guard down, told you I fucking loved you!” I manage to get the words out before a sob wracks my body. Wiping my cheeks with my fingers, I shove past him. Before I can open the door, his big hand darts out and grabs me around the waist. A broken part of me wants to lean into him, hear him out, forgive him and move on. He’s not wrong, he wasn’t lying about them not being around. Deep down I know that, but I’m hurt and embarrassed. And fuck I just feel like running. The reasonable and more broken part of me steels up and prepares for another fight to learn from my mistake and guard my heart. “Get your hand off me,” I say in a deathly firm tone. He hesitates for a brief moment before sliding his arm slowly from my body.
