“Uh-uh,” he cuts me off. “The word I want isyes.” He pulls out, almost completely leaving me, and a desperate whine escapes—one that sounds nothing like me. “Give it to me, Charlie.”
I’m helpless against the order, ecstasy bowing my back as I writhe against his dick, sending him sliding so deep inside me that it aches. His fingers never stop, constantly moving on my clit until it feels like I’m drowning in waves of pleasure, moisture sliding from my body around his cock, coating both of our thighs.
“Oh, fuck yes,” Dillon groans loudly, the sound tortured, and then he’s pulling out with asquelchso he can roll me over, pushing me up the bed. He presses my knees together, shoving my legs toward my chest, and then forces his steely erection through my swollen flesh. The angle is intense, tight, and deep, too much for my overwhelmed senses. He’s relentless as he hammers into me, seeking his own release.
It doesn’t take long before I’m boneless under him, my glazed eyes staring up at him, his jaw gritted and eyes hard as they fixate on the way my tits bounce under the force of his thrusts. His orgasm hits, his eyes falling shut, and a loud gust of air escapes his parted lips. I feel his dick jerk, coating my inner walls with the warmth of his release.
Dillon collapses on top of me, his face buried in my neck, the hair on his thighs tickling where they brush against mine. I reach up, stroking my hands over his sweaty neck and back.
“I love you,” I whisper softly, and I feel him smile against my neck.
“I love you, too, Angel.” Dillon pushes off me with a groan, his arms trembling as his softeningdick slips out of me. “I’ll clean you up.” He gets to his feet, pointing a finger at me. “Don’t move.”
I starfish, my self-consciousness diminished in the face of two seriously fucking good orgasms. “Your wish is my command.”
His mouth twitches. “Don’t tempt me, Angel. You’re not ready for another round yet.”
I tilt my head to the side, eyeing his soft dick. “And you are?” Dillon gives a valiant jerk under my appraisal, and I giggle as he growls playfully.
“Five minutes, and you’re mine.”
I scoff. “Five minutes, and you’resnoring.”
He narrows his eyes, reaching down to pinch the flesh of my hip, making me yelp. “Challenge accepted, Angel.” I sit up, swatting at him. He dodges away, heading for the bathroom with a laugh. I collapse on the bed, unwilling to move when I can still feel wetness—both of us—dripping from my core.
I hadn’t planned on jumping him like that on my way home, but it was the perfect way to drive my mother’s vitriol out of my head, along with my father’s disappointed silences. The past twenty months with Dillon have proven to me that the house I grew up in wasn’t normal, and it doesn’t have to be my future.
“I’ve got a good idea,” he yells from the bathroom.
“What?” My voice is hoarse, and I smile, wondering how loud I got to make my vocal chords so irritated. Our neighbors probably hate us right now, and that idea fills me with an even balance of mortification and pride.
“Come shower with me, Angel,” Dillon replies, his tone coaxing. “I’ll even wash your hair.”
“Is that all?” I retort as I’m wrigglingoff the bed, squeezing my thighs together to prevent any more mess on the bedspread.
“You’ll have to come and find out.”
I shake my head at the taunt, already halfway across the room, the stupidest smile tugging at my cheeks, everything else but me and Dillon forgotten.
Chapter 3
Charlie
It’s interesting how one Thursday out of an entire month can affect me so badly.
The thought has been hounding me all day, ruining my Friday just as much as my parents ruined my mood last night—the same as last month, and every one before it. Dillon had tried to come with me, but I wasn’t subjecting him to it, knowing how it would play out.
Just before his worried eyes followed me out of the door, he asked, “Why are you still going?” I didn’t have an answer for him—not one that didn’t make me seem like a little girl begging to be loved—so I left without giving him one.
My mother started dinner off by mocking my oversized hoodie, telling me I looked like a fat teenage boy. My father lectured me again on how books were a failing industry, and I was going to end up unemployed. I had no quantifiable ambition, according to him, and I chose this career so thatwhenI failed, I could say it wasn’t actually my fault.
Flossie has spent today side-eyeing me, her expression screamingI told you so, even though I hadn’t filled her in on the exact details of what happened. I knew what she thought, but I wasn’t convinced I could just cut my only family from my life.
Family means something…doesn’t it?
I blow out a breath, staring at my reflection in the tall mirror on the closet door, noticing the tension lining my shoulders.
The wrap dress is a deep plum and tight, clinging to every curve—which I have in abundance. The décolletage is more daring than I’m used to, but the fabric accentuates the dip of my waist, the tie knotted into a cute little bow on my side. I tuck my hands inside the hidden pockets near my hips, turning to the side with a frown.
