“Dex.” Another gasp, followed by a long moan.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Stop?” She flashes me a look over her shoulder. “Why the fuck would I want you to stop?”
I chuckle, resting my forehead between her shoulder blades, and place a path of gentle kisses there as I keep the thrust of my hips and my fingers easy. The pace doesn’t matter because I can already feel the tell-tale flutters of her pussy around my dick.
“Fuck me, Dex.” She pushes back again. “I need you to fuck me.”
Reluctantly, I pull my finger from her ass. If she wants me to fuck her, I’m going to need both hands.
Gripping her to the point of bruising, I hold her close to the jets and pound into her with skin-slapping, water-splashing thrusts.
She comes but I keep going, not giving her a chance to come down from her orgasm this time.
Over and over I drive my hips forward. My balls draw up tight and I get that familiar tingle at the base of my spine. I’m going to come, but not until she does again.
Thrust.
Thrust.
Thrust.
Her walls ripple; she’s close.
“Maddey.”
She arches more, the dip of her back deepening.
“Maddey.”
“Dex.”
Two more pumps and she’s coming; one more and I join her.
I keep her close as we ride out the pleasure together.
I loved her before, but now? There’s no going back.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The theme song to Super Mario blares from my phone, and I curse myself for not switching it to silent.
“Why didn’t I teach you how to fetch my phone?” I grumble to Trident, slapping a hand around willy-nilly in an effort to find the offensive object.
I feel the bed shift and then see Lyle’s grinning face staring at me from the lock screen on the pillow next to me.
How did…
Trident’s good, but not that—
Oh shit!
I bolt upright, whipping around to see the weight that was pressed along my back is Dex and not my dog.
Dex is in my bed.
Dex is shirtless in my bed. Only shirtless? Is he naked?
Wait…
Am I naked?
Gingerly, as if I’m anticipating finding a spider underneath them, I pinch the end of the comforter that miraculously didn’t fall from my abrupt movements, squinting one eye shut as I peek under the covers.
Holy shit! I’m naked.
Yeah you are. *lying back in a beach chair, toasting with a piña colada*
Why bother putting clothes on when Dex was only going to remove them?
Don’t call him Dex. Hook, remember?
Dex, Hook, Daddy—whatever you want to call him is fine by me.
Eww. Don’t call him Daddy.
I don’t know. *shrugs* I think he more than earned it the way he dicked her down last night.
Talk about motion in the ocean.
Screw that. Let’s talk about the size of Navy boy’s boat.
“I’d pay good money to be able to hear what goes on inside that pretty head of yours when you stare off like you’re trying to see Neverland, Tink.” Dex’s voice, thick from sleep, has the voices in my head shaking my nipples like they are maracas.
Oh my god! I slept with Dex.
No, no. *tut-tuts and wags finger* You had sex with Dex.
Correction. *sits up, slides glasses down nose, and peers over the rim* Dex fucked the shit out you. Honestly, I don’t know how any of us are still around with how many times he blew the top of your head off last night.
I clench my thighs, deliciously sore between them in a way I haven’t been in years. Beard burn runs down the length of my body, and I spot a hickey on my boob. A smile twists my lips thinking of all the times Rocky would bitch about Gage’s penchant for love bites.
The ringtone cuts off as the call is kicked to voicemail, only to start back up again a few seconds later. Lyle is relentless when he wants something.
I swipe to answer, thumbing it to speakerphone because I cannot even muster the energy to hold it up to my ear.
“Hey, Lyle,” I say around a yawn.
“Dollface.” The ever-present tinge of excitement in his voice never fails to bring a smile to my face. Yes his coffee is amazing, and now that Holly has taken over the bakery side of the business, the waistband of my pants is in danger, but it’s the barista’s gregarious, flamboyant personality that has me making the commute to Espresso Patronum when there are approximately a thousand other coffee shops between my home and there.
“What’s up, boo?” Lyle lives for pet names, and I can just picture the goofy grin he’s probably sporting right at this moment.
A strong arm wraps around the tops of my thighs, tugging me closer.
Someone doesn’t like hearing you use a pet name with someone else.
Interesting. *taps chin*
It really is elementary.
Don’t go quoting Sherlock Holmes.
What? *places hand on chest* Anyone can see someone—*side-eyes Dex*—is po-ses-sive.
Le sigh. Alpha men.
“When are you coming to visit?” Lyle’s voice brings me back to the conversation I’m having with an actual human being.
“You and Kyle were just down here the other day.” I flop backward onto the mattress, Dex shifting me to my side to spoon the instant I’m flat on my back.
This is nice.
“Yes, but I need you up here.” I don’t need video chat to know he’s stomping his foot and pointing down to the ground aggressively.
“Why—” Anything else I was going to add to the question falls away as Dex starts to place kisses along the back of my neck.
“Because.” There’s a pause then his voice lowers to a whisper. “Only you can sprinkle your fairy dust and make clothes come off without it sounding like sexual harassment.”
“What?” I choke out a laugh then bite back a moan as Dex buries his face in the curve of my neck to smother his own. I appreciate the discretion. I’m not even close to figuring out what all this—and by ‘this’ I mean the fact that I let my brothers’ best friend, my childhood crush screw me those six ways to Sunday—means, let alone the complications adding my people to the mix would bring.
“Don’t you try to act all innocent with me, Miss Smut Queen—”
“Queen of Smut,” I correct.
“Potato, vodka.” He brushes me off with Vince’s tried-and-true saying. “Now stop trying to distract me.” God forbid. “What I’m trying to say is, I’ve never met a person in possession of a penis”—teeth bite into my shoulder and a leg is thrown over both of mine as Dex really struggles to hold in his laughter—“who has been able to say no to you.”
“Isn’t Jase the exaggerator of the group?” I question.
“I said don’t try to distract me,” he scolds.
“How am I distracting you?”
“You know what bringing up hockey hunks does to me. I get all flummoxed.” He’s fanning himself with his hand right now, I just know he is.
“Says the man who opened up a coffee shop across the street from a gym that trains boxers and MMA fighters.”
“This from the girl who writes out of both said shop and said gym?” he counters.