Take Me

by Caitlin Crews

  Dylan knew that not a single one of those little wankers who’d put their hands on her before him had ever treated her like that. They’d bored her silly. They’d made her imagine she was frigid when she couldn’t stop coming.

  She was supposed to be his.

  Dylan had known that from the start. And he’d already spent a lifetime seeing her when he closed his eyes, so tonight, he didn’t want to.

  He wanted his eyes wide open. He didn’t want to miss a single moment.

  The way she breathed. The way she looked in his bed.

  The way her face softened. The way she trusted him this much.

  Dylan wanted all of it.

  Because none of it was ever going to be enough. And it was more than he deserved. It was as if he’d only just found her, and he had to let her go.

  The real problem was, he didn’t know if he had it in him.

  How could he possibly let her go when he knew, now? Exactly how good it really was. Far, far better than he’d dared imagine. And he had an epic, detailed, innovative imagination.

  So Dylan sat where he was. He didn’t move. He let the night grow later and later, the hour smaller and smaller, and he didn’t care when his eyes began to feel gritty and his body began to protest.

  He stayed where he was, because he wanted every single second of this. Every last second.

  When Jenny’s eyes fluttered open, hours later, she looked around in confusion for a moment, then landed on him.

  And smiled automatically, big and sleepy.

  This is how you’ll do it, mate, he told himself. You’ll do it for her. You’ll make her smile and wave her off.

  And he’d deal with the fallout later. When she’d gone.

  When she was finally lost to him forever.

  CHAPTER TEN

  WHEN JENNY WOKE UP a great many hours later, she was naked again.

  Better yet, she was in Dylan’s bed. And Dylan himself was slumped out in the chair nearby, his brooding gaze on her, while outside there was the faintest suggestion that light might come again. Someday.

  “Last thing I remember we were getting into a car,” she said. And that giddiness she’d been after swelled in her, sharp and syrupy and everything she’d imagined it would be. She wriggled a bit, trying to really feel it. And ignoring the other parts that threatened to swamp her with unpleasant recollections that this wasn’t hers to keep. Not really. “Is that your real secret, Dylan? Are you the reason I blacked out?”

  He rubbed his hand over his face, grinning. “I get that a lot. My cock is a well-known roofie.”

  Jenny sat up, not bothering to clutch at the sheet, and watched the way his gaze dropped to her breasts. And more, made them react. Her nipples pinched tight, and suddenly she remembered when she’d been sprawled out on the floor of that bathroom, his cock pounding into her and his mouth moving over her. His tongue and the hint of his teeth, there on that sensitive point.

  Her whole body seemed to shiver into awareness.

  “I don’t remember what conclusion we reached.” And she was aware of everything about him, now. When he tensed in the chair, though he was still slouching there as if he thought that made him look relaxed. The way his cock pushed at the front of his jeans. “Do I only get a night? Or am I a weekender? I don’t dare to hope than I might have scored longer than that. Not to mention, I’m not entirely sure it would be physically possible.”

  “You can have as long as you like, Jenny.” The remains of his grin were still on his mouth, but his eyes were in shadow. They seemed darker now. And connected to all those things inside her that she wasn’t looking at. That she didn’t want to process.

  Not now, maybe not ever.

  “Good thing you’re not worried about falling in love, Dylan,” she said lightly, teasing him. “You look a little wobbly there.”

  And she couldn’t say she regretted saying it, precisely. But there was something in the air of the sprawling room, suddenly. Something like grief, raw and encompassing. Powerful and thick.

  But she forgot about that when he rose to his feet.

  “I told you,” he said, his voice low enough to be a growl. “No chance of me falling in love with you.”

  And she had to wonder why she’d brought up the subject again, when it hurt to hear him say that just as much as it had the first time. More, if she was honest, because she knew better, now. He had been right. He’d been upsettingly right, in fact, about how little she knew about the things that sex could do.

  But Jenny still wasn’t thinking about that. Not now.

  Not while he was stripping off his clothes, tossing them into the chair behind him, and then standing there a moment when he was done, astonishingly naked.

  She buzzed a bit, all over, as if her skin couldn’t contain all the things her body did in response to the sight of him. It was different to see him naked, even if she’d seen so much of him before. In his running shorts, for instance. And it was certainly different to look at that huge cock, standing away from his body, and understand not only that she’d taken all of that inside of her, but remembering precisely how it had felt.

  She heard a greedy little noise, and was only dimly aware that she’d made it.

  Jenny didn’t intend to move, but she did. And next thing she knew she was kneeling down before him, her hands moving over his strong, muscled thighs.

  “Kneeling already, Jenny?” he asked, in that dark, commanding voice that she was sure she’d never get used to. It seemed so unlike the man she’d known for all these years—and then again, it was the man she’d met last night, and he made her shiver, hot and ready, and it was all Dylan. All the sides of the man she knew best. “You’re taking to this quickly.”

  “I want to taste you,” she told him, solemnly.

  And she kept her head tipped back, so she could watch his face as she reached up and wrapped her hands around his enormous cock. Her mouth watered, but she maintained eye contact as she tipped herself forward, then licked the broad head.

  Gently, like the first, sweet taste of an ice cream cone.

  He muttered something filthy.

  “Is that a yes or no?” she asked. Then she took a moment to suck him, deep into her mouth, so she could play with suction. And the flat of her tongue. Then she grinned at him. “You’ll have to speak up.”

  Dylan laughed, then, a dark and wondrous thing.

  She felt him move, though she didn’t understand what he was doing for a moment, because the taste of him was rolling through her, male and salty and a hint of what she thought was her, too. The blaze of it surged through her, igniting a new fire and making her pussy clench.

  But then his hand was in her hair. He twisted it around, until she realized he was gripping her hair like it was some kind of leash. And something about that made her feel almost sluggish with longing. As if she might not be able to bear it—she wanted this so much.

  She dragged her eyes back up the perfect, beautiful length of his body, and found him watching her.

  “Hands behind your back,” he told her, softly.

  “Behind my back?” She didn’t understand. “But then I can’t—”

  “Use them. Or control a thing. I told you I was bossy.”

  She couldn’t tell if it scared her or she liked the challenge of it. Or something in between. But it didn’t matter, because when he looked at her like that, with his cock so hard, she rather thought she would do anything he asked. Anything at all.

  Jenny let go of his cock, though she didn’t want to. And she slid her hands behind her, lacing her fingers together. The position made her arch her back a bit, so her breasts jutted forward, and she saw the appreciative gleam in his eyes.

  Worth it right there, she thought.

  She liked it even better when he smiled. And Jenny liked it best of all when he tugged a bit on the hair he held
in his fist while his other thumb tracked over her mouth.

  Not entirely gently. Rude and rough, and it was like a coarse fire consumed her.

  “I remember you and Erika trading stories about the dicks you’ve sucked.” There was a faint, dull ache from how tight he held her hair and that drugging glory of his rough thumb against her lips. “She always loved sex, and we know you didn’t, but both of you wielded blowjobs like weapons.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. Exactly.”

  His thumb pressed over her lips, silencing her.

  “I’ve spent years wondering what it must have been like to be one of those undeserving gobshites, too bleeding stupid to realize you were literally leading them around by the cock.” His head tilted slightly to one side as he regarded her, and her stomach quivered. “Is that what you think will happen here? You’ll suck me off and reduce me to a blithering mess like all the rest of them? Prepared to follow you to the ends of the earth, desperate for one more lukewarm touch?”

  But his thumb was over her mouth, so she couldn’t answer. And that was just as well, because she didn’t know what she would say. Because he had always talked about her sad love life as if she had all the power when Jenny hadn’t exactly seen it that way.

  Though tonight she had only the driving need to taste him. That made a stark difference from how she’d treated getting a man off in the past, admittedly.

  Men are easy, Erika had declared long ago, dancing with a bottle from the off-license in the street, just begging for trouble. All you need to do is gaze up at them, beg them for their cock and they’re yours.

  Jenny had never done it because she’d found men easy. She’d done it because they were complicated, and wanted things from her she’d had no intention of giving. And because sometimes sex itself didn’t do the trick.

  Men were visual—wasn’t that what everyone always said? They liked a girl kneeling in front of them, or crawling down the length of them on a bed. Until tonight, she’d never really understood the appeal of oral sex. Personally.

  She did now.

  Back then, however, she remembered giggling wildly with Erika as they’d shared their thoughts on how best to go about handling the boys who’d followed them around. Had they really admitted to that in front of Dylan?

  But he was Dylan. He’d always been right there. She might have said anything at all.

  “Keep your hands behind your back,” he told her, another quiet command. “If you lift them up, I’ll stop. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, and as she did, he worked his thumb between her lips. It was rude. Obvious. And even so, she sucked on him anyway, and her pussy clenched tight.

  “Tell me, Jenny. How’s your gag reflex?” Dylan laughed, with his thumb against her tongue. “That gets you all wide-eyed, does it? I guess we’ll see.”

  He pulled his thumb from her mouth and she felt herself sway, even though that shouldn’t have been possible. Not with him holding her like that. A fist in her hair, his cock huge and hard between them and that implacable look on his face.

  He made it impossible to remember all the sharp and clever things she’d planned to say. All the ways she’d intended to make him laugh, and remember that she wasn’t just another one of his giddy, disposable girls.

  But her mouth watered, because his cock was so beautiful, though she had never used that word to describe that part of a man’s anatomy before. It was different when it was Dylan. Or maybe because it was so big.

  “You can have it, Jenny,” he promised her, in that low, insinuating way of his. “You’ll have to beg me.”

  And before she’d gotten on that plane, Jenny would have laughed at the idea that she would ever kneel before anyone and beg. For this or anything else. Even earlier tonight, as she’d waited for him by the opera house, she would have rolled her eyes if he’d sauntered up to her and predicted she would beg for the privilege of taking him in her mouth.

  But he’d been right about that, too. She felt like a different person. Like a stranger to whoever that Jenny had been.

  Because this Jenny knew that if she didn’t get the chance to taste that cock, to feel him in her mouth, she would die.

  “Please,” she said, with no hesitation. “Please, Dylan. I want it.”

  “You want what?”

  She gasped a little, but she couldn’t have said if it was her breath tangling in her throat or the sudden understanding of what it was he wanted her to say. And she didn’t care. She could picture what she looked like, kneeling here on his floor, her head pulled back with his faintly cruel hand in a fist there. And his cock close, but not close enough.

  Jenny pictured it, and she didn’t understand how that could make her clit ache, but it did. Oh, how it did.

  She shifted, trying to get her thighs closer together to give herself some relief. And was somehow not surprised at all when Dylan stopped her, putting his foot between her knees and holding her legs apart.

  “You come when I let you come,” he told her. “I thought you understood.”

  “Please, Dylan,” she heard herself say again, more frantic this time. It was no longer clear to her what she was begging for, only that he needed to give it to her. Whatever it was.

  “Tell me what you want,” he said, all dark command.

  “I want you to fuck my mouth.” Jenny felt her nipples get even harder at that. Just as her pussy felt soaked. And her clit pulsed with a need like pain, but better. Much better. “Make me come, Dylan. Please.”

  “You’ve come a thousand times, by any estimate.” As he spoke, he wrapped his own big hand around his cock, then worked it, and it was an agonizing thing to watch. And not only because it was so like that image she’d had of him doing precisely this. “What makes you think you deserve more?”

  “Please,” she begged him.

  His eyes no longer looked green at all. They were black and fierce, and she was all fire and flutter, and she made a sobbing sound she didn’t recognize.

  Then she didn’t care what she sounded like, because he was pressing his cock between her lips at last.

  She half expected him to thrust in deep, the way he had earlier, but he didn’t.

  He wasn’t gentle, exactly, but he started slow. He let her taste him. He made a rumbling sound of approval when she used her tongue, teasing that ridge that separated the head from the shaft, then taking him in deeper.

  And it was different. It was wildly different from anything she’d ever known, and she couldn’t understand why. But her clit kept pulsing, she was soaking wet and as he moved, his thighs brushed against her breasts. That sent delicious spirals of pure sensation arrowing through her. Once again, there was moisture in the corners of her eyes, as her mouth stretched wide to take as much of him as she could.

  He used his grip in her hair to guide her, or to hold her still. Whatever he wished. He surged into her, backing off if he went too far, but then—once he knew how far he could go—he did exactly what she’d asked him to do.

  And fucked her mouth.

  It was a lit match, then a wildfire. It was an ecstatic, glorious thing, so much sensation crashing over her and through her that she almost felt skinless. There was his dark gaze. The implacable wall of his gorgeous body. His hard hand in her hair and the other at her jaw.

  There was the ferocity on his face, and in between all of that, part of it and because of it, there was her.

  And that was it, she understood as she tipped herself over and gave herself up entirely into his hands. Less a surrender than a becoming.

  She wanted to taste him, and she got that, raw and real.

  And when he gave a shout and flooded her mouth, she felt her own body convulse, and realized she’d pressed her greedy pussy against his leg. And the sheer joy of tasting him, that intense punch of salt and man, made it go on and on.

  He pulled her off his c
ock, and for moment he stared down at her, his chest heaving.

  And she thought she recognized him at last, in that wild expression he aimed at her—

  But something in her shied away from naming it.

  And then he was lifting her up, hauling her into his arms again, then carrying her into his en suite. He set her down in his shower that was three sides glass, and when he turned the water on it was as if they were standing in the Tasman Sea itself.

  The water beat over her, she found herself speechless as she slumped there against the wall, watching him.

  She’d had a mouthful of Dylan. And that thought was so wrong and so perfect at the same time that it almost sent her over that edge again.

  And maybe she’d made some kind of sound, because he looked over then, and she understood in a flash why it was that sucking Dylan’s cock—a sentence she never would have allowed herself to think before in all her life—was so different. She couldn’t remember ever doing something like it before.

  Because she hadn’t.

  Because she’d always done exactly what he’d accused her of doing. She’d kept a blowjob in her back pocket to change the conversation. To end a fight. To make unpleasantness go away with a little bit of suction.

  This was different, not only because Dylan had taken complete control. In such a masterful fashion that it made her breasts feel heavy and her belly feel unbearably light. Shivery. This was also different because she hadn’t thought of what she would gain from it at all. She’d wanted the taste of him, but more than that, she’d wanted to make him happy.

  She’d wanted to please him, far more than she’d wanted to please herself.

  That struck her as the kind of revelation that if she thought about too closely, might make her curl up into a ball somewhere.

  And she was naked in Dylan’s astonishingly luxurious shower, and it was no time or place for the fetal position.

  “Look at me,” she said softly, all too aware of the rough scrape of her voice. “Trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea. Literally.”

  “Very droll.” He moved closer to her, and he didn’t ask as he took some of his shower gel and began to lather her up.