Still, without further questions, he turned the lights off and plunged us into nearly total darkness. Only the lights from the city outside the open blinds lit the room, giving it a dim glow—just enough that we could find one another to strip our clothes off in a flurry of kisses and caresses.
Pain flared through my ribs as Dylan's hands cupped my sides a fraction too hard, but I just clenched my teeth and swallowed the wince of pain. I wasn't letting Blake ruin this for me. Not when it was thelast time.
"Are you okay?" Dylan broke his lips away from my neck and cupped my face in his huge hand. If the light had been any better, we'd have been peering into each other's eyes. But as it was, his face was fully in shadow, and I prayed mine was too. Anything to hide the mess of emotions swirling through my mind.
I jerked a nod, letting my actions speak for me. My fingers hooked under the elastic waistband of his boxer-briefs, tugging them down and revealing his impressive erection.
Holy hell, Dylan Grant had a gorgeous dick. Then again, it was the only one I'd ever seen, so I wasn't exactly an expert in the area. I could only go off the fact that I was thoroughly, undeniably addicted tothisdick. I knew I was only making him more suspicious with my weird behavior—I was never aggressive in bed—but I was past caring. I wanted this last time with Dylan to beepicso I could hold onto the memories forever.
He sucked a breath between his teeth as I closed my hand around his hard cock, stroking him with an out-of-character confidence. It wasn't enough, though. Biting my lower lip against the rush of nerves and excitement, I gave him a small push toward the bed, and he sat heavily. I followed a moment later, sinking to my knees between his spread thighs.
"Serena—" he started to say, but he broke off with a moan as I closed my mouth over his tip. I wasn't a total amateur at giving head—Dylan had given me plenty of practice over our past engagements—but it had always been him initiating it.
I made it my mission to make him forget my weird mood or, at least, ignore it. My tongue rolled over his silken flesh, tasting the salty slickness of his pre-cum. He let out a low groan, his fingers threading into my hair as I took him deeper into my mouth and sucked.
The way his breath caught and the way his hands tightened in my hair, it was satisfying as all hell. The fact that I held some measure of power over such a powerful man, that I was the one who made his pulse race and his hips buck... it was intoxicating.
I couldn't take all of him in my mouth—he was just too damn big and I was too inexperienced—so I wrapped my hand around his base as I worked him over as deeply as I could. He never complained, so I figured I must be doing a decent enough job of it.
His grip on my hair tightened a moment later, though, and he tugged me up from my knees. We often needed no words, just knew what each other wanted and needed intuitively. Right now? He wanted my cunt.
I stood between his spread knees, balancing my hands lightly on his strongly muscled shoulders as he stripped my lace panties down my legs and bared my most intimate place to him. Thank fuck for the near darkness so he wouldn't see me blush. Again. He'd teased me for it before, and I was trying so hard to be more comfortable, more confident. But... it wasn't easy.
His long fingers trailed up my inner thighs, coaxing my legs to part, then stroked over my already aching core.
"So fucking sexy," he murmured under his breath as he sank his middle finger inside, making me gasp. "You're always so ready for me, Serena."
I cringed at the use of my fake name, but it was better than the alternative. Better than him knowing I was really just plain, eighteen-year-old Brooklyn Lawson... or that he'd taken my virginity when I was only seventeen.
"What can I say?" I forced a teasing laugh into my voice, adopting the sexy personality of "Serena" and pushing aside Brooklyn. "I'm addicted to you, Dylan. I get wet the second you tell me you're in town."
The city lights from outside lit up the room just enough that I could see his full lips curve in a pleased smile. His finger slipped further inside me, and my fingers flexed against the strong muscles of his shoulders as I whimpered. He just gave a soft chuckle, then encouraged me to straddle his lap where he sat on the side of the bed.
He wanted me to ride him, and I wasn't arguing as I settled my weight on my knees and waited for him to line up with my center. His thick cock always took a bit of stretching to accommodate, but I was no quitter and knew from experience it'd be well worth it in just a few moments.
"You okay, babe?" he asked in a deep rumble when I sucked in a sharp breath and dug my fingernails into his skin.
I jerked a nod, forcing myself to relax, and sank down further onto his dick. More often than not, he put me on top for our first fuck of the night so I could set my own pace in taking his cock. It was kind of sweet, and he always checked if I was okay.
Biting my lip, I lowered myself farther onto him. A moment later, my ass met his thighs, and I let out the heavy exhale of the breath I'd been holding.
Dylan just grabbed my face with one of his huge hands to bring my lips to his and kissed me hard. Our tongues tangled up, and his soft lips worshipped my mouth in a way that made my whole body quake. By the time he’d moved to my neck, I was panting and squirming with his thick cock fully seated in my throbbing cunt.
"Dylan..." I groaned, winding my arms around his neck and pushing up with my quads. One thing all my ballet classes had proven good for: My leg strength came in all kinds of handy when I was on top.
He just mumbled incoherent encouragement as I started to ride him, sliding up and down his shaft with increasing pace as my body trembled with heady, addictive arousal. Fucking hell, it shouldn't be so easy to climax on a dick alone. At least, that's what I'd read and heard from girls at school. Yet I never seemed to have any issues findingmultipleorgasms on my nights with Dylan Grant. Maybe we were just made for each other.
Hah, yeah right. More like he just had way more experience than a twenty-three-year-old guy should. Whatever, I wasn't complaining. And after tonight, I was deleting his number and never looking back, so what did it matter how much of a womanizer Dylan was?
Dylan's arms banded around my slim waist, and I let out a moan of pain when my ribs ached. He didn't notice, though, or he assumed it was a moan of arousal, as he stood up with me still impaled on his cock and flipped us over.
Stars swam across my vision as my back hit the soft comforter and Dylan hitched my legs around his waist, then drove his cock deeper into me. Pain radiated through my midsection from all the bruises Blake had left, but I gritted my teeth and cleared my mind. My abusive, controlling brother hadnoplace in this hotel room.
"Serena, are you okay?" Dylan paused, our hips flush and his arms braced against the mattress on either side of my head. "You seem... you're different tonight."
I let out a small laugh, and it sounded bitterer than I had intended. "Different?" I shook my head, swallowing the flow of words I wanted to release—the confession of my name, my age, my...feelings. But Dylan Grant—DylanfreakingGrant, one of the Delta Five—didn't want to hear all of that. He kept coming back to me for one reason only. I was drama free.
So I held my tongue and rolled my hips against his. "I'm fine," I lied. "Just a lot on my mind. Nothing for you to worry about. Certainly notright now."
