Letting Go (Surrender Trilogy #1)(74)

He didn’t like feeling jealous. Especially of a dead man. A man who’d been his best friend. But there it was. He was insanely jealous of Carson’s hold on her even from the grave.

“Are you close, honey?”

“Yes! Please don’t stop, Dash. I need you.”

The heartfelt plea seized his very soul, warming him from the inside out. Liquid sunshine. He basked in her radiance, her pleasure and need.

He thrust with his fingers, exerting firmer pressure on her pleasure spot as his tongue circled her clit and sucked gently. She quivered uncontrollably underneath him, her thighs shaking, her knees knocking against his sides.

“Give it to me,” he rasped. “Give it to me now, Joss. Everything. Let go.”

She arched upward, her cry endless and pained. He quickly covered the mouth of her pu**y with his own and sucked hard as she pulsed and vibrated in her orgasm. Her honey coated his tongue, spurring his need even higher.

His thumb moved up to her clit to replace his tongue and he rubbed gently, coaxing wave after wave of release from her.

Finally she sagged onto the couch, her body going limp. He glanced up to see her half-lidded eyes lazily surveying him, glowing with contentment. She reminded him of a satisfied cat and she was all but purring.

When he would have stood to replace his clothing, she quickly sat forward, her hands going to his hips to stop him. Then without a word, she grasped his c**k and guided it toward her mouth, slipping the head between her lips.

“Don’t deny me the same chance to pleasure you,” she said, her voice laced with the husky remnants of her orgasm. She sounded hoarse and needy, as though she still had a ways to go to complete her pleasure.

“Just stand there, Dash. Let me love you.”

He closed his eyes, a wave of contentment rolling over him with the power to bring him to his knees. God yes, he’d allow her to love him. It was everything he’d ever wanted.

His hands tangled in her hair, lifting it and pulling it away so he could see her face, could see her lips wrapped around his dick. She sucked him deep, holding him at the back of her throat and then swallowing around it, milking him.

“I won’t last long, honey.”

Her lips curved into a smile around his cock.

“I know.”

And then she began to pump her fist around his dick, sucking him hard and deep. It was a pace destined to drive him over the edge within seconds. And it did. Before she’d sucked him deep the fourth time, he was already coming, jetting and pulsing deep into her throat.

She swallowed greedily, sucking, demanding more. Not a single drop spilled from her lips. Her fingers gently lowered to his balls, caressing and rolling them in her palm. He was up on tiptoe, straining forward, his body so tight that he felt he was coming apart at the seams.

The last of his se**n erupted and still she sucked and licked gently, bringing him down until he was simply too sensitive to bear her tender ministrations any longer.

He caught her hand, forcing her to still her motions, and then he carefully withdrew from her mouth, her tongue running along the back of the length as he pulled away.

He pulled her to stand in front of him and caught her in his arms, hugging her tightly to him. He buried his face in her hair and pressed gentle kisses to her head.

“I didn’t deserve that,” he said hoarsely. “But I won’t turn it down. Ever. Thank you, honey. Thank you for forgiving me.”

She pulled away, a gentle smile curving her lips. “There’s nothing to forgive, Dash.”

His feeling of unworthiness skyrocketed. God, but she was perfect. And he was an ass**le taking out his frustration on her two mornings in a row, and yet she forgave him as sweetly as a woman ever forgave a man.

“If you’d like, I’ll fix you a drink and you can come sit in the kitchen and keep me company while I prepare dinner,” she said.

“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

The idea of them being so domestic. Of him sitting and watching as she cooked for him. The image was powerful and brought him immeasurable joy.

He quickly dressed and then she held out her hand to his.

“Come on then. I’ll fix your drink and then if you don’t mind, I’ll get dressed. I don’t want to be near a hot stove or oven naked,” she said ruefully.

“Use my robe,” he said gruffly.

There was nothing he’d like more than to see her wrapped in his robe while she puttered around the kitchen.

“All right,” she said softly. “I’ll get your robe just as soon as I’ve fixed your drink.”

TWENTY-THREE

THE last two weeks had been a dream. Dash couldn’t be happier. Joss glowed with contentment. She’d fallen into her role as a submissive, submissive to him, as though she’d been born to it. And maybe she had.

Maybe it was what she had always craved—needed—and Dash was supremely arrogant and pleased that he was the man who’d provided it for her. There had been no reoccurrence of her saying Carson’s name in her sleep. No upsetting dreams. She was, he was beginning to have confidence, his. Completely and utterly his.

He drove faster than normal, eager to get home. Tonight he’d broach the subject of taking Joss to The House for the first time as a couple. He hadn’t wanted to rush into it, especially after Joss’s first experience at The House. He hadn’t wanted to take her there until things were perfect between them. Until that first encounter was wiped firmly from her mind and no embarrassment or shame lingered.