She leans forward and presses her hand against my cock. “Hard, like I thought.”
Fuck, she’s hot.
Her brow is raised. Both of our chests are rising and falling.
Then, we’re kissing. Hard and fast.
I grip the backs of her thighs and lift her onto my lap, so she’s straddling me.
“I’m gonna fuck you so hard.” I yank down the front of her dress and capture her nipple with my teeth.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she pants.
“The best one I’ve ever had.”
“What if someone comes in?”
“No one’s coming.” Except for us. “Get my cock out.”
Fingers fumble with my belt and zipper while I suck on her tit. When her hand wraps around my dick, it’s like fucking heaven.
She starts jacking me off. I yank her panties to the side and plunge two fingers inside her.
I catch her moan with my mouth. I don’t think anyone will hear, but I’m also not willing to test that theory. I want to fuck my girl, and nothing is going to stop me.
My girl.
Well, that’s a new thought.
Dillon’s head falls back, and she starts riding my hand. “Jesus … West, keep doing that, and I’m gonna come.”
I pull my fingers from her pussy, and she lets out a moan of frustration. I get a possessive kind of satisfaction, knowing how much she wants me … needs me in this moment. Even if only to make her come.
“Why did you stop?” she huffs.
“Because I need to be inside you when you come.” I grip the elastic of her thong and snap it, tearing it from her body. Then, I shove the panties in the inside pocket of my jacket.
She raises a brow. “You’re keeping them?”
“Souvenir. Now, climb up on my dick.” I slap her ass. “And ride me hard.”
“So fucking bossy,” she mutters but does as I asked.
She rises up onto her knees. I hold out my dick, and she slides down on him. Her sweet, soaked pussy grips my dick like she owns him.
Maybe she does.
When she’s full of me, her ass pressed to my lap, she shudders over me.
Our eyes meet. Her blues so wide. So trusting. So needy. I cup her face with my hand and glide my thumb over her lips. Lips that are painted red. I want that lipstick all over my mouth. Grabbing a handful of her hair, I tug her mouth down to mine and kiss her.
Her tongue sweeps over mine, and this sudden, intense urgency to have her, to be even closer to her, hits me out of nowhere.
It’s like a thirst. A hunger I need to sate.
I need more of her. All of her.
What’s happening to me?
I feel dizzy. Hot. Needy.
I tug my tie loose and unbutton the top of my shirt. “Fuck me,” I groan into her mouth. “I need you to fuck me.”
She rides me hard, but nothing feels enough right now. I feel insane. Like I could fuck her forever and I’d never get close to getting everything I want from her.
All my senses are filled with her. The sounds she makes. The way she smells … the way she touches me.
She’s taking over me. I feel out of control.
What the fuck is wrong with me right now?
Maybe I just need the control. I need to be the one fucking her.
Shifting forward, holding on to her, I take us down to the floor. I shove my pants down my ass, and I start fucking her hard. My hands planted on either side of her head on the floor, I pound into her over and over.
When she starts to come, she bites her lip to contain the curse and cries that I know she wants to make. I watch her come. Her eyes slam shut, ecstasy covering her features, and nothing has ever looked more beautiful in this moment than her.
Nothing has ever been more beautiful than her.
I feel this tightening in my chest and that fucking dizziness again.
What the fuck is going on?
Maybe I’m having a heart attack.
Well, what a way to go.
West Oakley, player for the Ravens, dies from heart attack while fucking his girl.
There I go again with this my girl shit.
Dillon isn’t mine. I don’t have a girl. And I don’t want one.
I move my hips again, but I don’t go hard this time. My movements are slower. I bring my mouth to hers and kiss her. Her fingers slide into my hair, pulling the tie from it. My hair falls around my face.
“Come for me,” she whispers.
I increase my tempo a bit but not much.
If someone were looking in from the outside, they might say I was making love to her right now. But I’m not. Because I don’t love her.
Fuck, my head is messed up tonight. It’s the fight with my dad. Seeing him always messes with me.
Shutting my eyes, I bury my head into her neck and start to fuck her again. Hard. And harder.
Her arms come around me, holding on.
The sound of my skin slapping hers and the feel of her tight, wet pussy gripping my cock drive me exactly where I need to be.
When I’m done emptying myself inside of her, I lift my head, needing her mouth.
Our eyes meet before our lips do, and something happens in this moment. I don’t know what. But there’s something.
Shutting down whatever it is, I kiss her, and I keep kissing her until we can’t stay there any longer and we’re forced to clean up and rejoin the party.
But I’m off-kilter all night. Like something isn’t right.
And it isn’t until I’m lying in my bed later that night with Dillon’s body curled around mine that I realize what’s wrong with me.
I have feelings for her.
I’m starting to feel things for her. Real things. And I can’t because I can’t be the man she needs. That she deserves.
I know that I need to end this thing between us. For both our sakes. But selfishly, I’m not ready to do it yet.
I just need a little more time with her.
Then, I’ll end things with her.
twenty-nine
Dillon
I type, The end. And sit back in my chair.
Holy shitting noodles. It’s finished. The Two-Week Stand is officially done.
Well, not officially done. There will be edits and rewrites. But the first rough draft is complete.
Halle-bloody-lujah.
I can’t believe I finished a book in four frigging weeks. Who knew I could write one so quickly? Not me! I guess when you have tons of free time and the story is already there in your head because you’ve lived almost all of it, then it’s easier to do. The only changes I had to make were names and sex scenes, but who doesn’t love coming up with a good sex scene, right? And also, I had to write the ending from scratch because, obviously, West and I haven’t had our ending. Yet.
And maybe we won’t. It’s not something either of us has discussed. Currently, we’re acting like we’re in a relationship but under the guise of still having a fling.
Things are amazing between us. We had one weird day. It was the day after the party at the White House. He was a little cold toward me. I did worry that he was going to say that things had come to an end for us. But the next day, he was back to being his normal self, so I put it down to him feeling off after spending time with his dad.
I’ve really fallen hard for the guy. I can’t remember ever feeling like this for anyone else.
I know. Stupid. But also inevitable. It’d be hard not to fall for him.