A growl rumbles in his chest. We’re so close, his body presses me to the pole, and I’m met with the firm effect of what I do to him, hard against me.
“Told you I could be bad,” I whisper, even if my bravery is faltering the slightest.
Teasing him is one thing, but toeing this line is another. If we cross it, we can never go back. And if I push and he rejects me, I’m not sure I’ll ever recover.
“That you did.” He drags his hand down my throat, between my breasts, until he’s gripping the side of my waist. “You’re full of surprises.”
“I’ve changed.”
“So have I.”
That I don’t doubt. We’re different people. Hardened by life. Scarred by bad decisions. And yet, when I look into his eyes, everything that drew me to him back then is still there. His loyalty. His perseverance.
The wild side that makes no apologies.
So much proof that this could be the mistake that destroys us both.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” I say, suddenly doubting myself.
“Maybe not.” He smirks. “But I’ve never been known for making good decisions. And seeing you like this…”
“Are you saying I got the job?”
“Are you trying to test me, Willa?”
“Maybe.” I shrug, running a finger down his chest.
“You know what I do with brats?”
I swallow hard, shaking my head as he leans closer.
“I tame them.” In one swift move, he hoists me higher on the pole. “You might want to hold on, princess.”
I barely have time to grab the pole above my head when his hands move between my legs until he’s gripping my ass and wrapping my legs around his shoulders. He grins, pressing a kiss right where I need him, and I can feel the heat of his breath through the fishnets and lace.
When Dean’s eyes meet mine, they’re nearly black. They’re possessive, and I’m desperate for whatever is running through his mind.
“You were a bad girl tonight, Willa.” He kisses the lace again, and I shiver. “Walking up on my stage.” His tongue drags over me, and I’m shaking. “Showing other men what was always supposed to be mine.”
“I’m sorry.” My thighs tighten at his ears as he slowly toys with me through the lace. “Please—”
“Please, what?” He nips at me. “You want me to eat this delicious pussy? I do like hearing you beg. Finally understanding who you’ve always belonged to.”
“Please, Dean.”
He hums, kissing the lace and tasting me through it, but holding that line, not offering more. It’s torture. His tongue drags over me, pressing hard to my clit, but he denies me.
Angling my hips, I grind against his face, and he grips my ass harder, moving me over him. Kissing. Tasting. Atorturous layer of my underwear between us. My head tips back against the pole, and I’m holding so hard my arms shake. My entire body is vibrating.
Dean rocks me over his mouth so that stars prick at the edges of my vision. But right as I’m about to fall over that edge, he pulls back.
“Dean—”
He shakes his head, denying me a release. My fingers slide along the pole as he lowers me until my legs wrap his hips.
“I’ve waited twelve years to find out what you taste like.” He rests his forehead against mine, pressing his hips forward and pinning me to the pole. “To find out what you sound like when you moan for me.”
He thrusts, and I do exactly what he wants—I moan for him. We aren’t even fucking, and he’s the best thing I’ve ever felt.
