Long Ball(66)

But I want even more. With as brave as he makes me feel, it’s not as hard as I think it is to ask for what I want exactly. “Dylan?”

“Yeah?”

Do it. Tell him what you want. “I want you to bite me.”

He laces his fingers through mine, throws our hands above my head on the mattress, and sharply nips my lip, sending a spasm through my innermost muscles, gripping his cock.

“Mmm, you really like that, don’t you, baby?”

“Yeah,” I answer in between kisses.

“Tilt your hips up.” He puts a hand under my ass to help, tilting my hips at a more severe angle so his cock rubs against my g-spot before sucking my tongue into his mouth hard enough to hurt a little, in the perfect way I didn’t know I liked until he came home with me last night.

His hips do a little shimmy that steals my breath, and he does it again, kissing me rough and fast like he can’t get enough of my body’s reaction to the things he’s doing.

He thrusts deep and moves his knees, scooping me up until he’s kneeling on the bed and I’m on top. In this position, I’m taller than he is.

“I bet I know something else you’ve never done,” he says, placing his lips on my neck and licking hard before sucking the skin. It pinches. It stings.

It feels f*cking amazing.

I promise right then that I’ll never razz Alex about another hickey again.

Unable to stay still, I start riding his cock with complete abandon. This isn’t me anymore. Not me at all. It’s the alternate Rachel, the one Dylan brought into existence for the space of—what? A day? It feels like so much longer, the way I can so easily give myself over to her now. To him.

He bends to my chest, placing his lips just above my left breast. He sucks my flesh into his mouth. Hard. Oh, God, I might come from this. He nibbles and licks his way across the valley of my breasts to place a matching mark on the right one. Each pinch caused by the warm, wet suction of his mouth drives me higher, makes me bob up and down faster, so desperate for release it makes me dizzy.

Dylan reaches down and starts massaging quick, light circles over my clit. That’s all it takes, and I unravel completely, shuddering, moaning his name as I spasm around him, tossed by waves of pleasure like a tiny boat on a rough sea. Wrapping his arms around me, he increases the speed of his thrusts until his cock twitches inside me and he comes.

We collapse in a messy tangle of limbs and smiles, and he tucks me against his chest so I’m the little spoon.

The warmth of his body and the past couple days catch up with me, and I succumb to the heaviness of my eyelids.

“Hey.” He strokes my back and kisses my shoulder again. “Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.”

Blinking hard, I realize the light’s changed with the setting sun. I must have fallen asleep in his arms. “I wish. I’m jealous of Old Mother Hubbard’s cupboards.” I stretch and pull the sheet tighter around me, suddenly ravenous. “Do you like pizza?”

“Two things you never have to ask a guy: Do you like pizza? And Voulez-vous cou—”

I slap his chest and smile. “What kind do you like? Pizza,” I hastily clarify as a wicked gleam enters his eyes.

“As much as I’d love to stay in bed and eat pizza with you, I’m afraid I’ve got to get going. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but it’s later than I thought.”

I push up and nod, and for a moment we just look at one another like we’re both memorizing the lines of each other’s faces. I run my fingers through his floppy hair, and trace the words of the tattoo on his chest. I want him to stay so badly, spend the night, but that’s more than I’m comfortable asking for, and he’s definitely not fishing for an invitation.

“Do you leave soon?”

He nods. “Tomorrow afternoon.”

I have things to do to get ready for the move, annoying and important things to finalize tonight and tomorrow, but I’d put everything off to spend another night with him. “Ah.”

He sighs and swings his feet over the side of my bed, turning his back on me. I may want to spend more time together, but he isn’t suggesting it.

The sheet’s still warm with the heat of his body, and I wrap it around my body instead of getting dressed. Besides, I think my bra’s still in the living room, and I’m definitely not putting those panties back on.

He grabs his clothes and holds his hand out for me to take. We negotiate our way around the boxes until we get to the living room and he picks his shirt and hoodie off the floor before heading to the bathroom. I call for a cab and stand in front of the window, looking down at my neighbors below.

How many times have I stood here, sat here, playing music while the world went by without me, living lives I’ll never have? I can’t fade away as soon as I step off stage anymore. I’m more than just a vessel for music—I’m a human being. I’m Rachel. And I need to be an entirely different Rachel than the one I was before Dylan or with him. I can’t lose myself while pursuing my dreams. The single-minded focus I’ve had has gotten me far, but it’s taken some of the glow from my life, rendering me less present than I should be.

Dylan wraps his arms around me, nuzzling my cheek. “I had a great time with you.”

I tip my head back and turn toward him. “Me too.”

Weakness takes my legs when his lips touch mine again, and I turn in his arms, pressing myself against him, wanting the feeling of his body stamped against mine, tattooed in my memory forever. The sheet slips down to my waist, baring my breasts, and he palms them, thumbing my nipples into stiff peaks.