Everything I Left Unsaid(74)

“Go ahead, baby,” he said, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “Do whatever you want.”

Whatever I want? That was some big territory.

—

I leaned forward and licked him. He was salty and warm and soft. I licked him again, tracing the edges of the head. Finding the veins along the shaft. Again and again until I felt like I’d mapped him. Dylan kept twitching against me and sighing and it was all so intimate. So personal.

I’d never experienced anything like this before. The vulnerability and power that each of us had in this exact moment. All his strength, restrained. All my courage, unleashed. It was a moment that spun and spun and spun between us.

He was silent, letting me find my way, letting me look at him, and kiss him. Taste and touch. Soft and slow. Until finally I ducked my head and licked him from root to tip. I stopped and looked up, only to find him watching me with hot, deep eyes.

Approval and affection and respect poured off of him. It rained down on me and I knew…without a shadow of a doubt that I was in real trouble.

Real. Trouble.

I would leave this house in a few hours and go back to the trailer to sort out my life, to get back on my feet. I was going to go back to being Annie McKay. But I would be leaving a part of myself here—a part of myself I liked, and I didn’t know if I would ever get that back. Or find it again.

My pleasure was now tinged with a kind of grief that made it sharper. Sweeter. It twisted harder inside of me.

Good pain. It was all a kind of good pain. It was happiness pushed as far as it would go.

Feeling his eyes on me, I ducked my head and slipped him past my lips. The head of his cock slid across the top of my mouth and then touched the softer muscles at the back of my throat.

“Oh God, Annie…”

I slipped him out of my mouth. “Is that…is this okay?”

“So good, baby. You’re killing me.”

I smiled up at him, at the bright color in his cheeks, the heat in those dark eyes, and then took him again, into my mouth.

He took my hand and wrapped it around the base of his cock. He squeezed my fingers until I was holding him hard in my hand. Sucking him hard in my mouth. My lips stretched tight around him.

His hand left mine and then touched my ear and then the back of my head and he pushed me, just a little, into him. Pushing me just a little past what was comfortable.

I hummed in my throat, hoping he got that I liked that. That I wanted that.

I looked up at him, just to be sure he understood, and he put both hands in my hair, the strands tangling on calluses, caught between fingers. The small licks of pain adding to the fire building inside of me.

He stopped me, pushed me back, which I resisted, because I wasn’t done. Because there was a whole world of experience I was aching to have. Right now. With him.

“I want to f*ck you,” he said and the words, God, his words, made me crazy and he slipped out of my mouth with a pop. A string of saliva between my mouth and him.

“Yes,” I breathed. “Yes.” Yes to all of it. Yes to everything.

He tore out of his clothes. The white shirt thrown over his head, revealing a tattoo on his chest. The other half was pink with scar tissue.

His chest, stomach, and arms were thick with muscles.

If he wanted, he could hold me in one hand. That was the sense I got, anyway. He could hold me or tear me apart—with one hand.

“Take off your clothes,” he said, and then jumped over the couch, heading for the other hallway.

I was astounded to see that I still had my top on. I ripped it over my head and lay down on the couch, which felt like butter, soft against my skin.

How odd to be lying down in this strange room in front of a wall full of windows when I couldn’t do it in my own trailer, the curtains shut.

Suddenly shy, I sat up, looking for my underwear.

He came back into the room and stepped around the couch to stand beside me. He had a silver strip of condoms in his teeth. Watching me, he pushed down his pants and stepped out of them. His boots had been kicked off in his bedroom. He tore one condom off the strip and tossed the others down on the ottoman.

I reached for him, touching the bottom of the soft sac behind his penis, and he twitched and then reached for me, skipping my thigh, skipping everything but the heart of me.

His fingers spread my folds and then slid right inside of me.

I gasped. Arched. My breasts shimmied with the motion.

He added another finger and I groaned.

“It’s good?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“It’s going to be better when it’s my cock. I’m going to fill you all the way up, Annie.”

“Hurry,” I breathed. He ripped the condom open with his teeth and pushed it on and then sat down at my feet on the couch.

“Come here,” he murmured. And I must have moved too slowly because he pulled me up into his lap. He pulled me so hard I practically flew against him. He kissed me, deep and hard. And I kissed him back just as hard. Just as frantic.

And then he grabbed my ass. Grabbed all my ass he could. Grabbed my ass like he wanted to rob it.

“Oh God, oh my God. Please, do something. I need you to do something,” I whispered into his neck. “Or I’m going to do it myself.” I reached my hand down my body like I was going to make myself come, but he grabbed my hand and held it behind my back.