“Then take me,” I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him in for a fierce kiss. I slip my tongue into his mouth and he returns the favor. He scoops me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me through my house.
“I don’t…I don’t know where I’m going,” Dean laughs into my neck.
“Keep going,” I say, and we end up in the kitchen. He sets me down on the cluttered dining table, where my work-from-home set up is on one end, and a massive stack of legal and medical books are on the other. “Don’t worry about the books.”
“I’m not worried about the books.” He clears the table in one sweep, knocking the books to the floor in one massive clatter. “Fuck, sorry, I should have asked first.”
“I don’t care about the books, just kiss me, Dean,” I breathe his name like it gives me life.
He has to bend over to kiss me properly, using his hands to angle my face to get a deep kiss. I reach for his shirt collar, unbuttoning his flannel as fast as I can, hungry to get my mouth on his skin. I accidentally pop off one of his buttons, and it goes flying into the abyss that is my kitchen.
“I’m sorry!” I laugh. “I’ll find your button later.”
“I don’t care about the button, Madeline,” He finishes undoing the buttons for me, and I immediately press my face to his bare chest. His skin is tingling and I devour him. He is utterly, unbelievably soft. I can’t believe a person canbethis soft.
“How are you so soft?!” I exclaim aloud.
“I was just born this way, I guess,” Dean laughs, flitting with the hem of my shirt. He slides his hands up my back, caressing me in every way I’ve wanted him to touch me since last time. I take my shirt off in one crossed-arm motion, throwing it onto the pile of books beside us. Dean threads a finger underneath my red, lacy bra strap.
“I didn’t peg you for the kind of girl who wears a red, lacy bra.”
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me,” I whisper.
“I’m going to find all of them out.” He whispers, pushing the strap aside, planting a kiss where the strap left an indentation. “What should I know first?”
“I need to get in your pants.” I say bluntly.
“Youneedto?”
“I think I’ll die if I don’t.” I say.
“Am I that good?” He laughs, but it comes out darker and sexier than usual.
“You’re that good.”
“Let’s put it to the test,” Dean leans down and kisses me again. This time, it’s completely lustful. His passion heats me up, through to the core. My blood feels like magma, hot and flowing underneath the surface. He tugs my pants down just enough to expose my thighs and underwear, his hand caressing my center.
“Oh, fuck,” I hiss as Dean leans me back on the table, pulling me so my ass is at the edge. He cocoons over me, putting one arm underneath my neck for support. I look into his eyes, a raging firestorm inside them, as he slips a finger around the fabric of my underwear, dipping it in my wetness. “Just take them off.” I beg.
Dean moves his arm, and dips his thumbs underneath the fabric, and draws them towards my ankles. I shake them off from around my feet, and then wrap my legs loosely around him. He distracts me by kissing my collar bones and sternum, so when he slips his fingers inside me, I gasp loudly. My eyes roll to the back of my head as he curls his fingers, and uses his other hand to circle my clit.
“This is what—this is what I was telling you about,” I choke out. “You’re that good.”
“If you keep saying that, it’s going to go straight to my ego.” Dean grins and his dirty smile, with the way he’s touching me, is like highly addictive drugs injected straight to my bloodstream.
“I’m—” He hits a spot so good I can’t help but moan. “Keep going,” I whisper. He keeps the same rhythm and pace I asked for. I begin to pant when I near orgasm.
“Come on, Madeline. Let it out for me.” Dean’s instructions embolden me, and I come right on his hand, groaning with the buzz of how good it felt. “Good girl. I love when you come for me.”
“Now please, fuck me,” I pant. “Please.” He nods, and with a kiss, unzips his pants.
“Fuck, we need a condom.” Dean pulls back, looking around, as if I’d have them somewhere in the FEMA-declared disaster zone that is my kitchen.
“Do you have them in your jacket?” I ask. “Like last time?”
“I think I took them out,” Dean sighs. “Shit.”
“Well, where did you put them?” I ask with urgency.
