Somehow, his dark eyes got even darker. Instead of taking a bite out of me, though, he grabbed the lube and coated his fingers, then started to work me open, watching me like a hawk.
Predator again.
He wasn’t looking for lunch, though. He was looking for every reaction I had to his ministrations. Every gasp, every squirm, and every whimper as he worked his fingers inside me, searching out the things that made me crazy with lust and then redoubling his efforts.
Me? I was a blubbering wreck.
I kept reaching for him, then forgetting what the hell I was doing when he pushed forward and hit just the right spot, leaving me gasping for breath and trying to remember my own fucking name.
“D-Dean,” I finally managed to gasp out, grateful his name was only one damn syllable.
He grinned wide, like the panther he was, leaning down to kiss me so very softly. Then he asked, “Yes?”
Like he didn’t fucking know.
“Now,” I demanded, and while I wanted to grab him and pull him in, all I could seem to do was tangle my hands into the mix of shirts and bedsheets beneath me. I managed to say it again, sounding desperate and pathetic, even to my own ears. “Now!”
Fortunately for me, that was enough. He slid his fingers out of me, and pulled my ass up higher onto his thighs, leaning in to press his cock to my entrance, where he only hesitated a moment before pushing inside.
After that, there was only him, moving inside me, his body covering mine, his hands running up my skin under the shirt I was still wearing, his beautiful eyes watching me, mirrored from the fabric on my chest.
I was lost to the motion, rocking back and forth with Dean, letting out punched little noises as he pressed in, and no doubt whining as he pulled back out.
“You feel perfect,” he whispered, as he lifted himself up to cover me completely, and somehow instead of suffocating, his body atop mine felt perfect and safe and protected.
My instincts flared, and I realized this, with Dean, was home in the way nothing else had been, maybe ever in my life. This was comfort and happiness and everything I wanted, every single day of my life.
I couldn’t verbalize everything I was feeling, so I just wrapped my legs around him and pushed back with every pressof his body into mine, riding the waves of pleasure until they crested, somehow managing to take both of us with them at the same time. We both cried out in unison, and then slowly collapsed, panting, into the bed.
After a moment, he grinned again, the predator back with me. “I’m gonna have to keep you. You really are perfect.”
Around my heavy breathing, I managed to answer, “You’d have to be pretty determined to get rid of me, at this point, to make me do anything but stay.”
The words were vulnerable; too much, too fast, and we were only dating, but there they were, between us. And in the moment, I wasn’t even sorry I’d offered them up. Especially not when his smile softened and he tugged me close to him and answered, “Good.”
CHAPTER 18
DEAN
The day of the concert, Landon wore the damn shirt.
And by the sly way I caught him smiling at me all day, he knew what he was doing.
Sure, I’d tossed the shirt in with the laundry before giving it to him. Hell, it’d been my suggestion that he could wear it for the show, but?—
Fuck. All I could think about was how it had felt to slide my hands under the black cotton and feel his body squirm under me, the smooth warmth of his skin and the way a tingle danced up my spine every time he gasped for me.
I wanted to peel his clothes off—all but that fucking shirt—and make him moan for me.
Given that the only place I had to do that at the venue was behind a line of porta-johns, I needed to get myself in check.
Not that the kind of desperation that would drive me to press him up against the back of a porta-john and take him raw, right there in the humid evening air, didn’t have its appeal, but the smell wasn’t nice. There were too many people. And maybe I was getting a bit possessive.
Only I should be there when I took Landon apart. The sight of him sobbing for relief only I could give him was just for my eyes.
Most importantly, though, was the way that Landon smiled up at me, sweet and trusting and just a little bit tentative—not because of me, but because of some other jackass who’d convinced him he shouldn’t expect to be treated right without somehow earning it, as if everybody didn’t deserve a partner who had their back and listened to them and?—
Well, the point was, when he smiled at me like that, it made me want to give him nice things.
