I fade in and out, as he hoists me into the air, and I wrap my legs around him. We fall onto the bed, his weight pressing into me from all directions and angles. It is the most divine crush. His kiss is dangerous as he showers me with delicate nips and licks. He brushes my hair out of the way to press heavy, wet kisses to my neck and collarbones.
“You are so warm,” Dean groans as I put my hot hands on the cold skin of his back, pulling him closer to my body. “How are you so warm?”
I answer him with a kiss, tugging on the thin skin of his lips gently with my teeth. He sits up, his knees on either side of my hips. I raise my arms and he pulls my sweater up and off of me, tossing it into a heap on the floor so I’m left in my thin t-shirt. He shrugs off his flannel shirt, tossing it onto mine, and swoops back down for another kiss, which turns into another and another, until we’re both panting and out of breath once more.
“We can’t just keep making out,” I whisper.
“What do you mean?” He laughs.
“Fuck, Dean. I mean, take your clothes off,” I say into his shoulder.
“Someone’s got horny eyes.” Dean climbs off of me and pulls off his undershirt and my eyes roll back into my head. I’m eye level with his torso. He’s toned and lean and he looks like he should be a fucking underwear model. Dean bends, his stomach in a perfect curve, to turn on the small lamp on the bedside table and I’m so thankful that now I can get a better look. A black and gray etching of a tattoo is on his hip—a large, expansive flower with flowing petals and leaves.
“What’s the tattoo?” I ask gingerly. I watch as he undoes the button on his pants, and slightly shifts them to reveal the skin on his hip. “What’s it mean?”
“It’s a peony,” He takes a step closer, and I run my fingers over the drawing inked on his skin. “To remind me to be compassionate. As a pharmacist.”
My stomach flips, and it’s not anxiety this time. It's a fierce, hot desire. Of course this man has a damn tattoo of a flower. My eyes travel up the rest of his stomach, from a thin smattering of hair under his navel to angular chest muscles…he is perfect in every dimension, in every field of existence.
“Why are you always hiding under sweaters and shirts?” I ask.
“I’m not hiding…just my body is the least interesting thing about me,” He remarks, scratching the back of his neck. “And it’s winter.”
“To be frank, that’s a total lie. It’s fucking fascinating,” I laugh,
“Well, to be frank, you’re just a pervert,” Dean laughs in a low rumble that echoes in my head and reverberates all the way through to my stomach.
“I thought you knew what you were signing up for.”
Dean smiles, leaning down to kiss my forehead. I clasp my hands on his cheeks and direct him to my lips once more, and he gently indulges me. He’s like a sugary, rich dessert. I can’t just have one taste and let it go. His hands are flat on the sheets as he kisses me with his soft, pillowy lips.
The music in my head is swelling to a high note when he climbs on top of me once more, pressing a knee between my thighs to spread my legs. Desire pulses in my center and I’m almost overflowing. My heart rate rises as he builds the anticipation for me. He’s moving so slowly, I almost can’t takeit. I’m beyond ready to jump the gun on this—something has awakened in me and it’s chugged a 5-hour energy, raring to go.
“Touch me, Dean,” I demand freshly, like a spoiled child. “Please.”
He presses a heated kiss to my neck, just under my ear. His voice is the most pleasurable sound, and it hits like the delicate plucking of violin strings. “I want you to make sure you’re ready.”
“I’m ready,” I tell him, the warmth between my legs growing, eager to topple him.
“You don’t look ready to me,” Dean whispers in my ear, fighting every word I say.
“How can I show you?” I ask. He climbs off me, and rolls to the right, to lean back and lay his head on the pillow. I groan and yelp to have his presence and weight pressing down on me.
“You know how.”
I slide off the bed, my sock feet touching the carpet. I feel chilly, and goosebumps form on my arms without his warmth. I don’t even hesitate. My brain is on auto-pilot. I take off my shirt in one motion, revealing my chest cradled in a black bra. I can see his eyes moving down from where they were fixed on my face.
Dean groans, and I take a sharp inhale as he gazes over me. By the way his chest rises and falls, and the pink tinge in his cheeks, he’s eagerly taking me in with hungry, greedy eyes. He tracks every rise and fall of my chest with each breath I draw.
I unbutton my pants, pulling them over my hips to reveal my black cotton panties—while they don’t match, they’re close enough that I’m thankful I can at least pretend they do, but something tells me Dean doesn’t even notice. I kick my pants off from around my ankles.
“Madeline. Fuck,” He exhales slowly, as I stand there, chilled skin in my bra and panties…and socks. Thank goodness hedidn’t ask me to take them off. I don’t want my feet to touch the carpet.
“Do I look ready now?” I ask, posing with my hands on my hips. Dean closes his eyes as if he’s thinking about it, but evidently, seeing me like this has shaken him to his core. “Hey!” I exclaim. “Open your eyes or I’ll put my clothes back on.”
He snaps them open and a smile spreads across his face. “I’ll keep my eyes open.”
“Good. You’ll want to for this,” I walk around to the side of the bed where he’s lying and take the lead, reaching around my back to unclasp my bra. With a shimmy, I let the straps fall down to the sides of my shoulders. “Take it off for me,” I ask him, my voice is the saxophone solo in the bridge of our song. I’m so brave.
