He pulls me closer, a hand on my ass, the other on my arm, so I’m standing right at the edge of the bed. I know I should be uncertain and hesitant, but I can’t help but forge forward. I’ve been living a lonely life, and now that I’m here, with another person, I’m officially an addict again.
Putting a finger underneath a bra strap, he pulls so the fabric falls from my chest revealing more goose bumped skin and pointed nipples. Dean’s sentence comes out like a warbled groan.
“Fuck. I can’t take it. I can’t play the cool guy. I can’t resist you.” He takes my wrists and pulls me onto the bed, onto his lap, so my knees are on either side of his waist.
“I don’t need you to play the cool guy,” I whisper to him, leaning down and placing a kiss on his neck, just under his ear. The tips of my bare breasts brush his chest, and the tiny connections of our skins sends me reeling. “I need you to be you.”
When he finally touches the skin of my back, I shiver. Dean’s hands slide up my back, and down my sides, and finally up tothe curve of my underneath my breast. I watch as his fingers flirt with crossing that line. “You can touch me, Dean. I won’t freak out,” I assure him.
“You’re not who I’m worried about.” Dean laughs, his eyes brightening. I place my hands over his and guide them up and over my body where he involuntarily closes his eyes as he holds me. I move my hands away, so it’s all him.
Groaning, I arch my back when he presses a kiss over my heart and down my breast. When he takes my nipple into his mouth, I can’t help but let out a groan. The flick of his tongue sends rapid fire signals to my brain that this—this…thisis what I’ve been needing. The touch of another person reminds me I’m human too. I can’t and shouldn’t live in solitude. Why would I ever want to be alone again when I could have this?
“Oh, my god, Dean,” I sputter.
“You like that?” He mouths to my chest.
“Yes. I like that so very much,” I assure him, tussling my hands in his wavy hair. He looks up at me, and I feel like for the first time, I’m seeing him clearly. He’s so defenseless in this state, and I handle him with care.
I notice how he has the beginnings of fine lines around his eyes…the sunny freckles painted faintly on his cheeks…the mole hiding just beneath his left eyebrow. I move my hands down his back and around to his front, pressing and squeezing his chest. Running my thumbs over his chest and the hair on the back of his neck stands up—he’s just as turned on as I am, even though he’s purposely holding me up so I can’t get a feel of how thick his hard-on is.
Pressing a kiss to his raw lips, he finally lowers me, I moan as I feel just how hard he really is, even through his pants. I grind my hips against his, and he grits his teeth as he restrains himself.
“Dean,” I whisper. “Just let go.”
“I—I can’t,” His voice is shaky, an ice skater on thin ice. “I need this to last.”
I swallow at what I think he’s implying. That this is it—we’re one and done. “You only want to do this once?” I ask.
“I want to do this so many times, you can’t even count. But this is the first time. And I want to savor it. Because we won’t get it again.” His explanation is heart-wrenching and it sends my stomach spiraling down a tower. Does he think I’m the one who is going to leave?
Relief washes over me, and I resolve to deal with my new-found fluttery feelings later. “Dean,” I whisper again. “It’s not any less magical just because it’s not the first time. Just enjoy yourself.”
He takes a breath, drawing it out. His arms tremble. He’s nervous. “You’re right. Fuck it.”
This is the start of a new song, it’s light and springy and makes your skin tingle when it hits your ears. Dean relaxes his jaw, and I cup my hands around his face, kissing him once more.
He shifts me off his lap, and lays me gently down on the covers, my head landing on a pillow. Dean’s lips trail down my chest to my navel to just above the fabric of my underwear. I close my eyes and sharply inhale, waiting for what’s next.
“Can I touch you?” He asks gently.
“Yes, of course.” I brace myself because it’s been a while—more than a while—but his touch is velvety smooth. The pads of his fingers dip below my waistband, feeling and devouring, but not at all conquering. Dean presses his palm against my pubic bone, and trails his fingers across my seam, first over my clothes, and then under. My body, electrified with his touch, is on complete edge now.
“I’m doing this my way.” He whispers to my waistband. He circles my entrance with a gentle finger. I’m so wet, so fast, and it takes everything in me not to apologize for being so greedy forhim. He draws my panties down to my ankles and trails back up with kisses to my ankles, knees and inner thighs.
“Yes—” I’m about to assure him that anything goes, but he swipes a finger to my swollen clit, and my words are caught in my throat. He stays there for a moment, circling it with his finger. My watch vibrates on my wrist with an alarm for my heart rate. I mindlessly take the watch off and toss it onto the floor, concentrating on the circling thing he’s doing with his finger. Fuck this stupid watch. I don’t need it. I don’t need this anxiety.
“This isn’t even…” He trails off as he eyes me up. “This isn’t even the beginning.”
I groan with pleasure when he pushes a finger, then a second, into me. Fuck. Oh, fuck. His long fingers. I’ve watched them type, I’ve watched them steer, and now I watch them plunge into me.
I inhale and tense as Dean curls his fingers, searching for a place long untouched. Everything in me is awake, revving with fire and verve. I’m wound up and then unwound with every motion he makes. He rises but doesn’t release me, to kiss my throat, and then the side of my head, his hair flopping down onto mine, our bodies fluctuating together.
This fucking man. I can’t believe he uses these fingers for anything else.
“I’m going to make you mine.” I’m at the mercy of his depravity as he breathes into my ear, kissing the side of my head. The minor fall, and the major lift.
I squirm as his fingers spread and feather within me. I feel like I’m headed towards a black abyss, where the only thing I can feel is him and his touch. I wrap my arms around his back and dig my nails into his skin. “I—I…” I stutter, unable to form a coherent thought as his fingers pleasure me. A moan slips out of me again.
