Distraction (Club Destiny #8)(4)
He was warm and solid, his strength evident. She wanted to absorb some of it into her body, to feel whole one more time in her life. Sarah doubted it would ever happen, but she wished it just the same.
“I need you,” he whispered against her mouth, his warm breath fanning her face, the scent of spearmint tickling her nose. “Need. You.”
She didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. She recognized that need, that overwhelming desperation to do something that would make her feel like she wasn’t about to crumble into a heap. At least for a little while.
Tugging at his T-shirt, she helped him to remove it before he worked on pushing her leggings down, her panties disappearing with them until she was standing naked between his solid body and the wall. Her fingers fumbled with the button on his jeans until she finally managed to release it, her lips grazing the hard planes of his smooth, bare chest, while he dug something out of his pocket.
The distinctive rustle barely registered, and she watched as he tore open the condom, forced his jeans and underwear down past his hips, then sheathed his long, thick cock. It wasn’t until he was lifting her off her feet so that she was practically wrapped around him that she realized this was really happening.
Her breath lodged in her throat when he pressed the head of his cock against her entrance only seconds before filling her completely in one desperate thrust of his hips.
“Dylan,” she cried out breathlessly, her fingers latching on to the flexing muscles in his shoulders. Pain, sharp and bright, had her holding her breath. It’d been so long; her body took a moment to adjust to the thick intrusion. Then, just as quickly as it’d come, the discomfort disappeared, leaving nothing but glorious pleasure as he slid deeper. “Yes.”
Dylan pushed into her a few inches before retreating, only to push back in again, her body stretching to allow the invasion. He was big, thick, filling her so … perfectly.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, his voice rough. “Warm … wet… You feel so fucking good.”
Finding his mouth with hers again, Sarah kissed him, wanting to get lost. No thought, no justification. No regret or remorse. No fear of what would happen after. The only thing she knew was the intense, overwhelming ecstasy of him filling her, his rough hands gripping her thighs as he held her against the wall, his hips thrusting forward, and the glorious friction that ignited dormant nerve endings.
He impaled her, a slow, sensual grind at first. Then faster, harder, deeper. His hips driving forward, retreating, forward again. It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t romantic, but Sarah didn’t care. They were seeking release, both of them, and she knew there was no turning back now.
He never let up, fucking her wildly, the desperation that outwardly consumed them both nearly palpable in the still, warm air that surrounded them. Her body clenched around him, tightening, pulling him in, and she knew she wasn’t going to last. Self-induced orgasms didn’t hold a candle to this.
“Dylan,” she panted. “Oh, please, yes. Don’t stop.”
Holding on to him, Sarah sought his tongue with her own, her fingernails digging into his scalp as her body hummed with satisfaction. The waves of her release built, driving her higher until she was hovering on a razor-sharp edge, eager to go over.
“Dylan … I’m … gonna …” She couldn’t complete the sentence before a firestorm of sensation consumed her, starting in her core and rippling outward in a ferocious rush as her orgasm crashed through her.
Dylan’s hips never stopped, his hands gripping her ass tightly as he continued to hold her, thrusting deep, his fingertips digging into her flesh until…
He slammed into her one last time, his cock pulsing with his release, an animalistic roar vibrating from him. “Fuck. So good. So fucking good.”
And then the muscles in his body went rigid, and it was over.
He held her close, breathing hard, his eyes tightly shut, chest heaving, body trembling as he leaned into her. When Dylan dipped his face into the crook of her neck, Sarah cupped the back of his head, her fingers brushing his short hair, holding him and pressing kisses against his cheek.
And that was when she realized … Dylan was crying.
Her heart broke for him. For herself. For lost love and shattered hearts. For that empty spot deep inside that felt as though it would only continue to be a dull, aching void without that one person who’d given you something to live for. Without them … it was just unbearable.
Even as she soothed him, Sarah knew she couldn’t blame him for what they’d done. She’d been just as needy. He’d managed to push the demons that haunted her away for a little while, and for that, she was grateful.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, pulling out of her and helping her back to her feet, never once meeting her eyes. “Fuck.”
While she stood there, unsure what to say or do, Dylan rolled the condom off and disappeared into the kitchen. She quickly grabbed her discarded shirt, forcing her arms into it and wrapping it securely around her naked body. When he came back a minute later, his jeans were buttoned, his expression still sad. He looked a little worse for wear, sweat dotting his forehead, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and that was when she accepted what would come next.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered sadly. “So fucking sorry.”
She nodded. She was sorry, too.
He grabbed his shirt from the floor beside the door, and she realized that was the only article of clothing he’d removed. He had even kept his boots on.