His palms grip on the inside of my thighs, pulling my legs apart for his viewing pleasure. “I never gave up on us. You were the one for me. Always have been and always will be.” He takes my clit between his teeth, gentle enough not to hurt but firm enough to send an electric current through my body.
“Why did you wait so long?” My eyes close, the clenching of a soft throw pillow not nearly enough to grab on to.
He stops the torment of his tongue, his fingers pushing in and out of me, one and then two, stretching me slowly, making sure he won’t hurt me, but the promise of his roughness still there.
“You know the answer. You’re a smart girl.”
He flattens his tongue, licking the entire length of my folds, twirling it around my nub.
My body needs the release but knows it should hold out until the very end. Let him take me to that edge over and over again until he lightly taps me, and I free fall into him. Dean was a magnificent baseball player, but the man is a fucking king in bed.
Sitting up enough to see him, I grab a fist full of his hair and pull him up. “Tell me.”
He fights the smile again and it’s hard to get into character when we’re talking about our demise and the residual feelings.
“I had to be the man I promised you.”
Tears want to fill my eyes, but I pull him up by his hair and smash my lips to his. Our tongues diving in, our hands pulling and tugging. I’m able to get a hold of his boxers and I push them down his legs. He steps out of them and kicks them off.
His dick is poised and ready at my opening. “Protection?” he asks.
For the first time since I committed to this, I pause, unsure.
“Never mind.” He picks me up and I wrap my arms around his neck.
I assume he’ll take me to the bedroom, but he heads back into the kitchen, laying me on the table.
“You stay here.” He backs up and it’s the first time I can admire him fully.
He’s just as big as I remember, just as hot and since my body is already a five-alarm fire, it just went to inferno status.
I hear his feet slap along the floor, a drawer open and he returns with a bottle of lube and a condom.
“What do I get for staying in place?” I ask coyly, and his lips tick up.
“One huge cock.”
I slide off the table and onto my knees, wrapping my hand around the base of his erection and taking him into my mouth.
A growl escapes him, and his hand moves to the back of my head, directing me like I don’t already know exactly how he likes it. Hell, he was the man who taught me how to do this.
“I need you up.” He removes his hand after only a couple of minutes. “Time for that later, right now I need your pussy.”
I stand, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and move to the table. I hop up, but he pulls out a chair and sits down.
“Our first time together and you think you don’t get what you want?” He pats his bare thighs. “Ride me, baby.”
I take the condom off the table and straddle him. He twitches when my fingers touch his dick as I slide the condom over the head. While I’m making sure we’re protected, he squirts lube on his fingers and my back falls to the table as he massages it into my pussy.
His mouth sucks my tit as his hands encourage me up and over him. I place my hand on the base of his cock, and then slide down, letting him fill me.
Glorious, oh so fucking glorious.
How I’ve missed him and in this moment by him, I mean his perfect cock.
“Tell me how much you missed me.” He holds my head in his hands. “How many times did you masturbate to memories of me?”
“Never.”
“Chelsea.” His tone is more teasing than mean.
I ride him, my thighs flexing as I push up and down. He helps me, lifting his pelvis.
“I’m not admitting shit.” I can barely get the words out.
His hands tighten around my head and he brings me closer so our eyes lock.
“I refuse to fuck you until you tell me.” He ceases all movement.
Our heavy breathing has our chests rising up and down.
“What do you want?” I challenge him the way he likes.
He thrusts up and a squeak rises up my throat. I want him so bad I can’t even remember what he asked me.
“I want you to tell me I’m the best fuck, that every time you were with another guy, you thought of me, of us together. That you missed me just as much as I fucking missed you. That what’s between us isn’t going away and that you’ll open up your heart for me again.”
Tears burn in my eyes. I knew he wanted me back, but usually our sex was ‘tell me you’re mine.’ Even his words and promises have grown up. Finally a teardrop falls to his chest.
“I can’t promise,” I whisper.
He thrusts again, and my body begs to be lazy and fall into his arms.
“You won’t,” he grinds out.
I press my palms on his chest, trying to distance myself, but he won’t have it.
“This isn’t some movie where you can win me back in two hours.”
He shakes his head. “Tell me and I’ll give you the release you want.”
His pelvis rocks up and down, slowly and although that might get some girls off, it does nothing but cause sexual frustration for me. “Fine.”
He gives me a satisfied smile. “There’s my girl.”
His hands loosen on my head, but he still keeps me in place as the truth escapes my eyes. “I never stopped loving you. Yes, every man was compared to you. My heart has already opened, so you better not fucking break it again.” I slap his pecs.
A slow smile crosses his lips and he thrusts up into me faster.
“I promise, it’s safe this time.”
He grinds into me and I claw at his shoulders. His hands fall to my ass, slapping, squeezing and gripping. By the time I’m ready to let go, he only has to bite my earlobe and whisper, “Come.”
I do. Not on his command, he can just read my body so well that even after five years he knows when I’m at the edge. I told you the man is a fucking king.
His fingers dig into my hips and his hands push me so my back rests on the table edge. He watches himself moving in and out of me, with a hand on my belly.
My body floods with a spike of new arousal watching him watch us, and the look of utter rapture on his face.
I’m ready to face the truth, that I might have hated him, but our love is one that doesn’t die because of distance or inattention. It’s not a classic princess fairy tale, but it’s an epic love story nonetheless.
Chapter Twenty
Dean’s large hands run along my sweaty back, urging me forward. I fall onto his chest willingly. He rises from the chair, my legs barely able to stay wrapped around him.
“I should get back to work,” I say, and he stops abruptly in the middle of the hallway. I can’t look at him, so I focus on the blank white walls.
“Don’t even try it.” He starts moving again and we pass by a bedroom door before we walk through the door at the end of the hall.
A king-size bed sits in the middle of the room with a plain headboard. Everything inside is either gray, black or steel. Typical bachelor pad. He deposits me on my feet and heads toward what I assume is the bathroom.