“Dean,” I choke out, my voice jagged. “Please, you’re driving me insane.”
“Don’t worry, beautiful,” he says, his voice a low vibration that hums through my bones. “I’m going to take care of you.”
He kisses his way south, his lips tracking a path down the center of my rib cage. He lingers at the dip of my navel, making my stomach muscles coil and jump, every exhalation as he drags my bottoms lower—down my hips, over my pubic bone—a wicked tease.
No, not a tease, a promise.
I already know Dean isn’t going to leave me hanging this time. He’s a man who aims to please, at least as far as I’veexperienced. He’s already shattered me twice with his hands, leaving me so boneless, even my good leg was at serious risk of collapse.
I’m almost afraid of what his mouth is about to do to me…
“Oh God,” I groan, my head falling back as he flicks his tongue down and in, a swift lick between the top of my swollen lips, dipping just far enough to brush my clit ever so lightly.
He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of my pajama pants, yanking them and my panties the rest of the way down in one impatient motion. He drags them over the loafers I threw on to come downstairs, pulling them off, too, as he tosses everything into the corner by the mower, clearing obstacles with a focused intensity that’s sexy as hell.
The cold air hits where I’m hot and wet, but I’m so turned on, the chill is a relief. I’m burning up, trembling with a fever that’s all his fault. Only Dean could make me burn like this, and only Dean can take away the pain.
He moves between my knees, his shoulders broad and perfect as he slides his palms up the insides of my legs. His grip is firm and sure, his thumbs digging into the softest part of my inner thighs with a possessive pressure that makes me even more eager, more desperate.
I arch my back, my heels digging into the cushion beneath me as he leans in, closing the distance between us.
His breath hits first, then his tongue, and God.
Fuck.
Shit.
Damn, his tongue does not disappoint.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” I hear myself chanting as the world falls away.
There is no shed, no girls asleep in the house, no innocent friend waiting upstairs, probably wondering why it’s taking me so long to feed a crow a strawberry and get back to my laptop.
There’s only the rhythmic, devastating sweetness of Dean’s tongue.
I wasn’t kidding when I said I loved his dirty mouth, but I love his sweetness, too. I love how much he clearly wants to please, to pleasure. How devoted he is to making sure I get there first and often.
Hell, we haven’t even had sex yet, not really, and he’s already made me come more than my last boyfriend did until our fourth weekend at my place, when I sat him down and helped him have a “come to Jeebus” moment about the effort it actually takes to make a woman come. I explained that it isn’t always easy or predictable, especially not at first.
It’s something I believed to be true when I said it, but now…
Well, Dean doesn’t seem to have any trouble setting me off. He seems to know exactly where I need him, how I need him, and he’s relentless about delivering me right into the flames.
Into the whitest, hottest part…
I cry his name as the orgasm crashes over me, a violent, shuddering release that has me writhing, tossing my head back and forth on the dusty cushion as he continues to curl his tongue deep inside me, while his thumbs…
Oh, God…
What the hell is he doing with his thumbs?
One of them is suddenly buried deep in my pulsing core, stroking in and out with a swift, steady pressure that already has another coil tightening between my hips, while the other smooths the slickness from my pussy back.
Back, back…until he’s circling my other hole.
Then, before I can gasp out that I don’t do butt stuff, I’mdoingbutt stuff.
Or rather, Dean is doing butt stufftome, and no sooner has my lizard brain declared that the feel of his thumbs bothstroking inside me while he tongues my clit is the best thing that’s ever happened to anyone, I’m coming again.
