“Jesus, Dusty.”
He swallowed just as I rubbed his tip.
I picked up the pace, my body and my hands. But only a half a notch faster. I was tormenting him now.
His hands were holding me tight, as if he couldn’t bear not to participate, but also couldn’t bear to interrupt what I was doing.
I was weaving a spell, for both of us because I was just as affected as him. My pulse was pounding. My blood was buzzing. I was wet for him, aching, and I wanted to shift over him, sinking down, but I was still rolling. Back and forth until the song changed behind us. We were on song three, this one had a faster tempo and I gave in now, leaning down to graze my lips over his.
His mouth opened, trying to draw me in. I didn’t let him, just the graze.
He groaned again. “Fucking hell. What are you doing to me?”
I moved my hand down his chest, then began pushing his shirt up, my hands sliding over his chest underneath. Stone helped with that, ripping his shirt off, and he reached for me, and this I allowed. He went for my bra, and I shook my head, leaning back again, still riding him, but not letting him feel me completely. My hand never stopped stroking over him, but then my mouth was watering and I slipped back a little on his legs, just enough room. I leaned down and took him into my mouth.
His fingers entangled in my hair.
“Oh, God. Christ.”
All the way in, and I opened my throat, slipping him in even farther.
He was starting to pant above me.
“You are killing me.” He hissed in a breath, a low, guttural moan tumbling out as I touched my teeth to his shaft.
His hips bucked. “Jesus!”
My tongue swirled over his tip. I sucked him like a goddamn lollipop, my head moving until he reached forward, his hands moving to my own pants. I let him. I was getting impatient myself, then he shoved his hand inside, and as I was picking up my pace, his fingers thrust inside of me.
He began moving in and out of me, matching my pace on his dick until he came. I didn’t. I was only primed for him. He jerked, exploding in my mouth, and I swallowed. He’d been watching me, his eyes lidded, and seeing that, he let out a low and soft curse. His hands went under my arms and he lifted me. I was back to straddling him, but he didn’t push inside me. His fingers slid back in and he sat up, his other hand behind my hip, urging me to keep riding him.
I did. My eyes closed. My head back.
I pumped, back and forth, and once I was going, he tugged my bra off. Just as air touched my nipples, his mouth closed over one, warming me. His tongue swirling around me. He was returning the favor. I groaned, wrapping a hand around his neck, and I started pounding down on his fingers. He slid a third inside, shoving up and up and up.
I was going down and down and down, until the climax ripped through me, hurtling at a breakneck speed, and I screamed. The sensations were pounding me still and I couldn’t… I was coming and coming and coming.
“Fuck yeah.” He grunted, then he was reaching inside his jeans pocket.
A condom came out. He rolled it on, and I shifted, sitting up so he could put it on.
His hands came to my hips. My hands went to his stomach, and together he went up at the same time I sank down on him.
And we started up all over again.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I was fucked.
No. Really. I was fucked.
Waking up in Stone’s arms for the third morning in a row, I felt my heart do a whole flip, shimmy, and settle. It settled. The whole rolling/riding him last night had been an awakening. Or maybe it was just that grief was starting to fall into the grooves and dips in my heart, letting me feel other stuff, stuff that maybe had been building inside and I hadn’t realized it until now. Until I woke up, Stone’s arm over my chest, his leg pressed up behind me, his head tucked into my back, and I felt peaceful.
Peaceful.
That wasn’t good.
Again. I was so fucked.
His arm twitched. His body tensed. He was waking up, and his hand ran up my stomach, finding my naked breast and he cupped me there.
I needed to go over this again because there were more flutters in my stomach than there’d been last night, or like ever.
I might’ve had a crush on Stone growing up, but him being an elitist prick got that out of my system. Or I thought so because damn, what if that crap never left me? What if it’d been in me this whole time and now him being all nice and kind and taking care of me and giving me all these climaxes, what if all those brought up all of that?
“Morning.” He moved into me, his hand left my breast, sliding down, down, going past my waist and dipping between my legs.
I groaned.
Oh, yeah. He was bringing all of that up right now. As his fingers slid inside of me, I gasped. He was stirring those emotions up. They were like mud that had settled. He was dipping in the water and dirtying everything up.
Then, a second finger slid in, I rolled to my back, and I was gone. Whatever storm he was waking up in me, it was going to happen. Till then, I reached for him as he moved over me and his mouth found mine.
I waited till after I’d made breakfast for both of us, after we’d each had a coffee.
“This can’t be a regular thing.”
I was so stupid. I was already missing his dick.
He looked up from the counter. His plate was empty. He had a second cup of coffee in front of him, along with a glass of green juice and his phone. His eyes narrowed at me. “Come again?”
He smirked.
Yeah. I deserved that, but I was staying firm. “You and me. What we’re doing up there, we both agreed no relationship.”
“We both agreed not to fuck someone else if we’re fucking each other. I like fucking you. Why stop that?”
“Because.”
Stellar defense here, Dusty. Freaking stellar.
He cocked an eyebrow up, picking up his coffee. “Because?”
“Because I’m a girl. We feel things eventually.” I dipped my head. “And I’m getting better.”
A conflicted emotion passed over his face, tightening the lines around his mouth before smoothing back out. He put his coffee back down. “Better how?”
“I’m dealing. I’m not having meltdowns.”
“You had one four days ago.”
“And that’s my point. I’m better, because of you.”
His eyes narrowed again, and he cocked his head sideways. “Why change that? Because you’re worried you might start feeling something?” He shrugged, grabbing his coffee once more. “Let’s end this when that happens.”
“It’s happening.” His eyes lifted back to mine. I added, “Last night. This morning.” I turned away, feeling like I was exposing more of myself to him. “It’s happening.”
I waited.
It didn’t matter. Whatever he said, how long he took to say anything, that didn’t matter. That’s what I was telling myself.
A second passed.
Five seconds.
I stopped counting after fifteen seconds.
I was holding my breath.
A chair scraped against the floor.
Looking, he was walking away. His coffee, his green juice, was left behind.
Well.
That was a nice punch to my face. It shouldn’t have been. This was why I said something. He was being smart. I was being smart.