“You’re right...” Resisting the urge to let my head fall back on my shoulders to give Dean room and permission to do whatever he wants to me, I loosen the grip I have on his hair. “Are you ready for your mission, Dean?”
“If my mission is to make you come so hard, everyone on this fucking island will feel it—” Fingers still fucking me from behind, Dean pinches my nipple, plucking at it almost hard enough to hurt. “Then yes.”
Dropping my hand to his wrist, I pull on it, signaling him to stop. “Sorry to disappoint…”
Lifting his head from the crook of my neck, Dean makes that warning sound in his chest even as the hand between my legs goes still. “Mills?—”
Finally managing to muster the strength, I push hishand away before taking a step back. “Rules are rules, Dean,” I tell him, letting him look at me while I try to catch my breath. “You owe me.”
“I swear to God…” Raking his heated gaze over me, Dean laughs in spite of himself. “If you’re about to make me run naked through this restaurant…”
For a second, I feel my resolve waver. This afternoon was different. All I did was follow where Dean led. Let him take me to a place where I wasn’t me anymore. I wasn’t Melisandre Blackwell. Uptight and repressed. Awkward and unsure. Rational and Unfailingly appropriate. I was someone else. Someone I don’t think I can be with anyone else but him. Someone I don’twantto be with anyone else but him.
Lifting a trembling hand, I hook my fingers under the strap still holding my dress up on one side and slide it over my shoulder. Letting it slip down my arm, the silk of it pooling around my waist before I sink to my knees in front of him.
Looking down at me, Dean’s laughter dies in his throat. “Millie…”
“I’ve never done this before,” I confess quietly, fighting back the embarrassment over how inexperienced I actually am. “You’re going to have to tell me what to do…” Swallowing hard, I nod my head. “I can do it. Iwantto do it. I want to?—”
“Be my good girl.” Dean finishes for me, his gaze pinned to mine. Lifting a hand, he cups my chin, brushing the pad of his thumb across my lower lip. “Is that what you want, Princess? Do you want to be my good girl?”
“Yes. Please….” I whisper it on another nod, licking my lips, the tip of my tongue brushing against his thumb. “Make meher… make me your good girl.”
I see something that looks very close to panic flash in his eyes—there and gone before it even fully registers, shuttered away behind one of his unreadable expressions. “Rules arerules, Mills…” Slipping his thumb past my slightly parted lips, he groans softly when instinct takes over and I run my tongue over the length of it. Pulling his thumb from my mouth, he cups my chin again, tilting my head upward so I can meet his gaze. “You have to say it first.”
“It’s not a big deal.” I look him in the eye and lie. “Not if we don’t make it a big deal.”
When I say it, Dean makes the warning sound in his throat again and for a second, I think I’m wrong. That I said the wrong thing but then his hand falls away from my face. “Undo my belt.”
Still looking up at him, I reach for it without hesitation. Gripping its buckle, I pull it loose, unhooking the prong from its hole to let it fall open.
“Good…” Stroking the back of his hand over my cheek, Dean skims his fingers along the underside of my jaw. “Now the rest of it.”
Nodding, I drop my gaze away from his so I can focus on my next task because my hands are shaking. I can hear them outside the door. People dining. Eating dinner. Making polite conversation. A few weeks ago, I would have been one of them. I would have been listening to Allister drone on about his golf game or some bit of trivial society gossip I don’t care about while I worried about work or whether or not I remembered to pay the wedding photographer. Never in my wildest imaginations would I put myself where I am now but there’s no other place I’d rather be.
When I finally manage to get his pants open, Dean strokes my cheek again. “Look at me, Millie…” he says quietly. When I lift my gaze to meet his, a muted growl rumbles deep in his chest. “Be a good girl and take my cock out.”
Nodding, I drop my gaze again while my fingers scramble across the waistband of his boxers, pulling it away from thehead of his shaft before working them down around his hips until it springs free, inches from my face, the smooth, blunt head of it leaking clear fluid from its slit. Looking up at him, I swallow hard while heat and pressure begin to build and push against the base of my spine.
Because he knows exactly what I need, Dean strokes my cheek again. “You look so pretty…so fucking perfecton your knees in front of me.” Brushing his thumb over my lower lip again, he touches the pad of it to my tongue. “Your mouth was made to be fucked… is that what you want, Princess?” He reaches for my hand and lifts it to wrap it around the base of his shaft. His hand over mine, he guides me, stroking my hand up the length of him while he pushes himself into my grip. “You want me to slide my cock between those perfect lips of yours and fuck your mouth?”
“Yes.” Again, I don’t hesitate. Following instinct, I lift myself higher onto my knees, leaning into the space between us. “Please…” Slipping my tongue past my lips, I trace the tip of it along the blunt head of his shaft.
He groans, gaze dropping to watch while I do it again, dragging my tongue across his weeping slit so I can taste him. “Fuuuck...” The hand he has wrapped around mine, squeezes tight before he abandons it completely. Pushing his hand into my hair, he grips the back of my head. “Open your mouth for me, Millie…” he says, his tone ragged with desperation. “Be my good girl and let me?—”
The rest of it spins away on a low, rumbling growl when I do as he says. Opening my mouth on a desperate moan of my own, my pussy begins to throb when I feel the head of his cock slide past my lips. The hard, rigid length of it gliding over my tongue, my throat tightening on reflex when I feel it bump against the back of it.
“You’re doing so good,” He reassures me quietly, holdingmy head steady while he pulls back, his other hand stroking its thumb along the line of my throat. “Relax for me, Mills…” Giving him a small nod, I swallow hard, forcing the tension from my throat while he slides back in on another low groan. “Yes…” He flexes his hips again, retreating and advancing, fingers tightening against the back of my head. “Just like that—” Chest heaving, Dean watches while he thrusts back into my open mouth. “Suck…” Pulling back, he strokes back in, harder and deeper than before. “Be my good girl and suck my cock while I—fuuuck…” Like before, it all spins away on a groan when I do as I’m told. Hollowing out my cheeks, I suck Dean’s cock while he fucks my mouth, my tongue licking and swirling along the length of his shaft. “So fucking perfect… such a good fucking girl.”
Eyes wide and aimed up at him, I moan softly in response, the hand I have resting against the inside of my bare thigh twisting its fingers desperately in the thin silk of my dress.
“It’s okay… I want… you to,” he says, each word punctuated by a hard thrust. He knows. He always seems to know exactly what I need. When I hesitate, Dean makes that warning sound in his chest. “Do it, Mills…” he says, looking down at me, his eyes so dark they’re almost black with desire. “Be my good little slut and finger fuck yourself… pull your dress up so I can watch while I come down the back of your throat….”
Untwisting my fingers from the skirt of my dress, I wrench it even higher on my thighs. Exposing my bare pussy, heart hammering in my chest, I trace a finger along the slick seam of it. When Dean growls his approval I push deeper, swirling my fingers against my throbbing clit.
“Look at that perfect pussy… so fucking wet for me… my good, perfect girl… come on, Mills… show me what a dirty little slut you are for me…”
Another moan gets tangled in my throat whenI slide my fingers even lower to push them inside myself on a hard, deep thrust that nearly shatters me. I do it again, and again—cupping my pussy so I can grind my clit against the heel of my hand, every thrust I give myself, coupled with Dean’s filthy praise, building against the base of my spine, hotter and tighter, until I can feel the burn of it shoot through me, blowing me into a million pieces.
