“Yes,” he says, his hand sliding under my sweater and covering my breast. “You do. Because that’s the thing about me being the selfish prick you met last night. Now that I found you, cupcake, I can’t make myself let you go.”
My reaction is a mix of relief and a surge of desire so intense it clenches my sex. His fingers are on my nipple, teasing it, a rough tug following that, parts my lips in a pant. I moan with the ache building in my sex and Dash drags my shirt over my head, tossing it away. That part of him that’s all about control is alive and well, and I won’t take that from him. I don’t want to take it from him. There’s something about this man in control that should make me step back, pause, but instead, he arouses me in ways that astonish me. And right now, there’s a furious heat about our energy that is downright combustible. The kind of heat that requires I touch him. I attempt to turn around but his hands scoop under my pants and drag them down my legs. Just when I think this will become a game of push and pull, that is not where he leads me.
Dash’s arm wraps my waist, and he lifts me just enough to untangle my legs from my leggings. The minute I’m free, I anticipate his hand on my backside or some sort of teasing in a power-play we both know he will win. Instead, he goes down on one knee, turns me around, gripping my hips, and the look on his handsome face, the combination of possession and tenderness, weakens my knees. Anticipation burns between us and when he leans forward and presses his lips to my belly, I tremble beneath the touch.
Dash squeezes my backside and then one hand catches my leg and lifts it to his shoulder. And there is nothing that feels more vulnerable and yet wonderful, than being this open and exposed to a man like Dash. He knows, too. I see it in those eyes, the window to his soul. He wants me to trust him. He wants me to give myself to him. And after last night, at any moment, he expects me to say no.
CHAPTER TEN
Dash watches me, and I watch him, the burn of our shared desire present and charged, the tug of emotion layering all that is between us, with complicated, and yet somehow, addictive and bittersweet need. Me for him. Him for me. The two of us need each other.
In my life, I’ve never felt that feeling with any other person. I feel him, inside out and in every way possible.
He leans in and licks my clit, sensations spiraling through my entire body. My lips part and one of my hands finds his shoulder, the other slides into the silky strands of his hair, tangling there. I almost expect him to forbid the touch, to tease me, and build anticipation until it’s all but unbearable. I’ve experienced just how good Dash is at the art of the tease.
As if proving me right, he glances up at me and asks, “Where do you want my tongue, Allie?”
It’s then that I realize I’ve had men try to be dirty with me, but somehow it felt just that—dirty. With Dash, everything is sexy, exciting, and I’m back to the word: addictive.
As for where I want him to lick me, there, I think. And there, is everywhere. Okay, maybe I’d start with one particular spot. “You know where,” I breathe out.
“Here,” he says, stroking a finger over my nub.
I tense with the intensity of my reaction that doesn’t allow me to be coy. I just don’t have it in me right now, not with his hands on my body and his warm breath promising me his mouth will soon be on my body. “God, yes,” I whisper.
I’m not sure what he’d expected, but a deep, sexy rumble of laughter escapes his lips and vibrates against my sex, as his mouth closes down, right there, the exact place I wanted him. He suckles me, licks me, his fingers slide inside me. He owns me, I think, God how he owns me, and for just a moment, I remember my tears last night, how badly he hurt me. I shove the idea aside, reminding myself that I hurt him, too. And we’re here now.
He is merciless in his exploration, licking me, teasing me, his tongue sliding inside me, over me, all over me. His fingers slide inside me, stretching me, caressing me, traveling in and out, and all over me. The combination of his fingers and mouth, his tongue, are everything, consuming my senses, and I am so on edge, I can barely stop the tumble over the edge, and yet, I want to, I want this to last.
The room fades, my pulse racing, and I am lost in the moment, goosebumps lifting on my skin, with sensation after sensation, quaking my body. My belly clenches and rapidly radiates downward. I’m panting, moaning, too, I think, though I have no real reality outside of the pleasure, so much pleasure. Dash suckles my clit and I grab the back of the barstool, because oh God, oh yes, he’s right where I need him, and I silently plead for him not to move. His fingers pump into me and I arch my hips, lifting, and pumping into his hand, whimpering as that clench in my belly rapidly travels lower and lower. I quake into orgasm, spasms of pleasure, rolling through me. Dash licks me, a sultry sensation that eases me up and then down, with my release, and when he lowers my leg, my knees all but buckle.
Dash is there instantly, catching my waist, and pushing to his feet, his fingers tangling in my hair, his mouth, his mouth that tastes like me, slanting over mine. I moan with how badly I need him inside me, and slide my arms around him, my breasts pressing to his chest. Wildness ignites between us and we are all over each other. I reach for his pants. He shoves them down, and kicks them aside, the thick jut of his cock between us as he lifts my leg again, and presses inside me.
I gasp with the shock and pleasure of finally having him inside me, God, yes, finally, he feels so good. Dash lifts me, holding my weight, and easing me backward. I catch my hands on the island, my breasts thrust in the air, his gaze hot, raking over my body, as he trusts, and thrusts, again. Over and over, he pumps into me, his hand sliding between my shoulder blades, and he leans over me, kisses me, thrusts some again.
Incredibly it seems, because I never, ever orgasmed with Brandon, and I mean ever, I’m there again, my sex spasming with an intensity that steals my breath. Dash drives into me again, his hand on my breast, as he groans with pleasure, his body quaking.
“Holy fuck, woman, you’re trying to kill me,” he says, long moments later, his lips at my ear.
“I’m half on you and half on the kitchen island.” I can feel him smile, as crazy as that sounds, and he turns me, and sets me on the barstool, grabbing me a napkin and pulling out of me, pressing it to me.
“You okay?”
I laugh. “Just okay? Is that all the credit you give us?”
His expression softens and he brushes hair behind my ear, his touch tender, sending a shiver down my spine. That’s how responsive I am to this man. I’ve just succumbed to not one, but two orgasms, and he can still make me shiver. “You’re good for me, Allie.”
I catch his hand. “But you don’t think you’re good for me.” It’s not a question. I don’t have to ask. I know his answer.
It’s at that moment, his phone rings where we’ve each automatically left them sitting on the kitchen island. Dash’s lips press. “That thing has terrible timing.”
“Maybe it’s Bella with good news. You better take it.”
He reaches for it and glances at the screen. “It’s Bella.” He answers the call.
I slide off the stool, and around him, to find a trashcan, and Dash hasn’t said much. It’s all Bella with this conversation it seems. I start getting dressed and finish pulling on my clothes when Dash ends the call and reaches for his pants.