The Allure of Dean Harper (The Allure #2)(31)

Of course you do, Lily. You told me yourself, you’ve never been f*cked by someone who knew what he was doing.

I slipped my hand beneath the waistband of her tights and then lower, trailing my finger along the outside of her panties. I had her in my hands, so completely open for me. She sighed against me, keeping her focus on my shoulder.

Shy.

She couldn’t look me in the eye as I slid my finger past the hem of her panties. She bit down harder on my shoulder, and I held up her weight. She was putty and if I let go, she’d fall to a heap on the floor. I backed us up to the wall, right between my framed photos. I slipped my hand out of her pants and tugged them down, taking in the sight of her naked body. She was tiny, with perky breasts and slim lines, and those hipbones that shouldn’t have been visible. She looked so young standing there that I took a step back, thrown for a loop.

I scanned across her tan skin, memorizing the freckle that sat two inches above her left nipple. Now it was my freckle. A secret patch of skin that I hadn’t had the time to notice on the yacht.

“Dean?” She spoke with a shaky voice. “I’m on the pill. If that’s what you’re worried about…”

She thought I didn’t want her. She thought I was stepping away for good.

“How old are you Lily.” It was part question, part statement.

“Twenty-three.”

Ten years difference.

“How many men have you been with?”

She reached out and grabbed my pants, using them to yank me toward her. She was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“Enough to know how this goes. You’re going to take off those pants and push me back against this wall. Maybe you’ll hold my hands above my head or maybe you’ll grip my chest. I know you want me, Dean.”

She slipped her hand beneath the waistband of my pants and gripped me, hard.

“Stop making me wait.”

Fuck her.

I had planned on pinning her to the wall, but not any more. She wasn’t in control; she might be a feisty young lioness, but I was a lion. I pushed off my pants, gripped her hand, and yanked it off me. Her mouth fell open in shock, but there wasn’t time for her to question my actions. I was already lifting her up, forcing her legs around my hips. I had to fight the urge to groan. She felt like heaven and I wasn’t even inside her yet.

I walked us up the stairs, toward my bedroom, but it wasn’t for romantic reasons. I needed leverage. I needed her on my bed so I could hold my body up over her and angle inside her so deep that her head rolled back and she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming.

The last coherent thought I had that night was when I stood at the end of my bed, staring down at Lily spread across my navy sheets. She was a sea of blonde hair and full, pink lips. I was going to lose myself in her, more than I’d lost myself in anyone before.

She smirked and arched a brow. “Do you need help with that?”

I was holding the condom in my hand, staring at her.

I shook my head.

They say if you aren’t sure if a berry is poisonous, you’re supposed to touch it first, rub it on your skin, and see if you have a physical reaction. After that, you take a lick and wait a day. Still breathing? Take a small bite. If you’re not dead, then the berry is probably safe to eat.

I feared Lily was poisonous. I feared she’d make my heart stop, but instead of testing her touch and tasting her slowly, I slipped into her until her nails dug into my back. I bit down on her lip so hard as she came that I tasted her blood in my mouth.

For all I knew, I had hours to live. For all I knew, Lily would be the death of me.

I smiled at the thought.

What a way to go…





Chapter Twenty-Five


Lily





I woke up with a start in a dark room, lying on the softest sheets I’d ever felt in my life. Am I dead? Is this a cloud? I inhaled a deep breath and glanced to my right. Dean was lying next to me on his chest. His face was angled toward me and half smashed into his pillow, but he was still the most picturesque thing I’d ever seen. The moonlight illuminated a fading set of teeth marks on his shoulder. Mine. I smiled at the memory as I slipped the sheet off my legs and pressed up out of his bed.

A quick glance at his bedside clock announced the time in bright red numbers: 4:30 AM.

I tiptoed across his room, wholeheartedly aware of my nakedness. My thighs ached and there was a light bruise on the left side of my ribcage. Dean had been rough at times, just enough to thrill me, but even then, I’d known I’d be feeling the aftereffects in the morning. I flushed just thinking about it.

I pulled open his door as quietly as possible and didn’t bother looking back. I’d see him at the airport in a few hours anyway.

My leggings and tank top were still on the marble floor of the entryway, passing judgment on me as I descended the staircase. I’d had casual sex before, but nothing about last night had been casual.

I slipped into my clothes, listening for any sign of Dean. It’s not that I didn’t want to see him, I just needed five minutes to collect my thoughts. I’d come to his house on a whim, assuming I’d have really good sex and then be on my way. Instead, Dean had reached inside and scattered pieces of me across his house. My sanity sat on his front stoop, my self-control was splattered across his entryway, and my heart was up there on his bed, too tangled in scattered sheets to find.