by Isabel Wroth
How beautiful it would make her feel; he treated them as just another part of her to worship with his mouth.
“Are you good with me behind you right now?” With her throat too tight to speak, Dillon nodded, moving with him when Nasa pressed her forward. “Hold onto the bedpost for me.”
Dillon reached up and gripped the cool wood so tight her fingers ached. She heard herself whimper when his heat disappeared from her back, struggling to breathe, to think when he tracked kisses up and down her back, not avoiding a single scar in his path.
So focused on how those kisses shook her straight through to her soul, she almost missed the tug and slide of Nasa pulling her yoga pants down her thighs.
“I can smell how wet you are, Dillon.” His voice was a guttural growl; his teeth nipping at her ass made Dillon go up on her toes.
The breath she'd held in exploded from her lungs, and the hot slide of his tongue along the back of her thigh caused her to yip in surprise, then moan in ecstasy.
“Sweet, tangy with a hint of salt. Lift your foot.”
Dillon lifted her right, then her left foot for him to tug away the spandex of her pants.
His hands slid up her calves, around her knees, up her thighs to frame her butt. The squeeze he gave her cheeks was accompanied by a grunt of appreciation.
“Turn around for me.”
Without the support of his hands and the bedpost to keep her upright, seeing him staring up at her with raw, feral hunger in his expression would have sent her to her knees.
He looked like a carnal beast, his face at the same level as her pussy, and the eager way he licked his lips made another whimper feather out of her.
Nasa leaned in and touched a kiss just below her navel, making her belly clench so hard she could feel a gush of her own juices spill down her inner thighs.
He pulled her knee over his shoulder, and even as he nuzzled at her inner thigh, Dillon could see his gaze was fixated on her pussy.
“So fuckin' pretty,” he growled, right before he dove in. He didn't spare a single inch, devouring her with voracious licks, and every sound she made only spurred him on.
Stars burst across her vision at the press of one, then two long fingers inside her, thrusting and retreating, deep and shallow, gentle and rough with no way for Dillon to anticipate his rhythm.
Nasa kept her surfing the edge of a tidal wave of pleasure, and the longer he held her right there, right on the cusp before the water rolled under and crashed against the shore, the bigger the wave got.
It grew and grew until her entire world centered on Nasa's wicked tongue, his talented fingers, and how he made her feel.
The leg she stood on felt as though it were made of jelly, the muscles in her hips, butt, and thighs quivering constantly.
Just when she thought he'd give her a moment to catch her breath, he changed tactics. He did that thing again, rolling his thumb and fingers together to simultaneously work her clit and her G-spot to induce a wild sensation overload. It made her feel as though she was about to climb out of her skin or explode.
While she struggled to breathe, he kissed, nipped, and nibbled his way up her belly. The flat of his tongue rasping against her nipple made her cry out, the strong pull of his lips, his tongue pressing the sensitive tip hard against the roof of his mouth...
Black spots danced across her vision, and as the orgasm crashed down on her, her limbs went completely slack right before the undertow pulled her under.
When her head broke water, Nasa had already lowered both legs to the ground. She felt the tender kisses he spread across her chest, lavishing attention on both her breasts, gently working his hand between her thighs to draw out every single ripple.
“Perfect,” he growled as he slowly pulled his fingers from inside her and used his body to press her back against the post, which held her up when she would have fallen.
His kiss started out as gentle little pecks and morphed into deep, euphoria-inducing mating of mouths. Dillon could taste herself on his lips, sweet and tangy, just like he said.
Even after crashing against him in euphoric release, she felt energized. Renewed, almost, and stronger than ever.
Heat poured off him like a furnace, and his muscles were bunched so tight, Dillon could trace the patterns of scar tissue beneath the tattoos inked into his skin.
Nasa didn't resist when she smoothed her hands over his biceps, following the push and pull of her hands until their positions were reversed.
Without having to ask, Nasa gave her one good squeeze before he reached behind his back to take hold of the post, letting Dillon explore his body at her leisure.
Dillon turned her lips to his jaw, his five o'clock shadow rasping against her cheek. She nuzzled at his neck, loving the way he hissed in response to the scrape of her teeth across the tendon where throat met shoulder.
The sparse mat of hair tickled her lips as she followed the chiseled line arrowing straight down the center of his torso. On her knees, Dillon worked her way down to his belly.
The rumbling growl he gave when she licked the skin just above the waistband of his jeans, the way the cobbled muscles of his abdomen clenched, made her deliriously happy.
As she very purposefully kissed the cool metal of his belt buckle, the mischievous little devil on her shoulder urged Dillon to glance up the long length of his body.
Nasa’s eyes looked like liquid sapphires boring into her, his expression feral with arousal, with need. He wanted to grab her hair—she could tell in the way his biceps bulged and the wood of his bed creaked— but he held true even when she popped the buckle free of its leather mooring.
Dillon pushed the heel of her hand up along the length of his cock, the denim the only thing separating them now.
His throat worked audibly, and as much as she wanted to watch every single change in his expression, she needed to focus on the task at hand.
He was so hard; the moment she twisted the button of his fly free, the head of his cock and two engorged inches of scalding hot flesh popped up as though spring-loaded.
She bit back her laughter and the urge to sing 'Pop goes the weasel,' careful to pull the denim forward before easing the zipper down.
Nasa heaved a groan of relief, muttering a ripe curse under his breath when Dillon sat back on her heels and abandoned his pants in favor of his boots.
She had to tug hard to get them off, then his socks, then went back to ease his jeans down and off.
Dillon reached out with both hands, feeling her way up his calves, noticing the way his cock jumped when she lightly skimmed the back of his knees on the way to his thighs.
She had every intention of leaning in to explore the thick, engorged flesh with her lips, but he stopped her with one word.
“Wait.”
A breath away from him, Dillon went perfectly still. She didn't even look up until he reached down to cup her chin, feeling how his hand trembled before tipping her head back. His thumb cruised over her lips as he studied her, his pupils blown wide, sweat glistening on his forehead.
“I'm on the edge here. I'm so primed to blow... One lick, and I'm done.”
Dillon felt the power that came with his admission, the sensuality of her own allure. “I don't mind.”
Nasa huffed a coarse laugh, the muscles of his thighs tensing to concrete when she licked at his thumb.
“I do. I want you to remember tonight for the rest of your life, and not because I shot my load in under two seconds the first time you gave me your mouth.”
Dillon doubted anything short of brain trauma would make her forget what happened next.
Nasa helped her to her feet and reached down to fill his hands with her butt, his grin cocky as hell when he hoisted her up, effortlessly holding her against him while she scrambled to hitch her legs around his waist.
“Oh, my god,” Dillon whispered, never having thought she'd be the type of woman to get turned on for having been picked up and carried somewhere. Clearly, he wasn't out th
ere flipping tires in the yard for fun.
“No gods here,” Nasa drawled playfully, “just me.”
“Debatable,” she answered, her breath catching when he sat on the edge of the bed and scooted back, their bodies separating just enough to have his cock sliding between her folds, splitting her open, every hard inch snuggled tight against the most sensitive place on her body.
Nasa rocked her on his lap, his lashes falling to half-mast. “We go at your pace this time. What's your safe word?”
“Apricot,” she answered, tucking her hips forward to try for more friction against her clit, her breaths tripping over one another as the smoldering endorphins of her previous orgasm started to spark. “I should have... should have said earlier. I'm ah... I'm clean, and I have an implant.”
For a moment, Nasa didn't answer, but when he did, the growl in his voice made her pussy ripple and contract. “Are you giving me permission to take you bare?”
Dillon nodded, a sound somewhere between a whine of protest and a gasp of shock ripping out of her when his fingers bit into her hips, forcing her to sit still.
“Say it,” he ordered softly, making every hair on her body stand up and quiver.
“Yes, I'm giving you permission.” Dillon stared into his eyes from a heartbeat away, watching something move through his expression that hadn't been there before. It was a gleam of possession and adoration. Of lust and worship. Of tenderness and triumph.
His arm banded around her waist, his gaze fixed on hers as he lifted her up and held her just high enough for the head of his cock to kiss her core.
She'd forgotten what it felt like, that first stretch of her body giving way to another, the sizzle of electricity that speared through her groin and up into her hips.
Thick and long. Dillon wondered if her body could accommodate him. As harsh as his expression became, Nasa took his time, letting her feel every flex and draw of her muscles parting to take all of him.
Without any leverage to move up and down, the only movement she could make was a deep, rocking grind.
“Yes, that's it,” Nasa growled against her lips. “Feel good?”
It felt so good all Dillon could do to answer was nod and remember to breathe. Wrapped around one another made every breath, every kiss—every slide of skin on skin— sink past her flesh and deep into her soul.
Every pore and follicle tingled, the scars on her back throbbed in time with her heartbeat, and even as she felt like she was flying, Nasa kept her safely tethered to him.
A mind-numbing orgasm appeared out of nowhere, stealing her breath, her sight, but Nasa managed to hang on and rolled with her across the bed, never once disengaging.
Heart to heart, Dillon stared into his eyes, seeing herself reflected there for a moment before he reached down to draw her knee over his elbow.
She could see the pleasure in his expression.
Lust, a silent entreaty to give him more. To give him everything she was, all she had been, and all she would be.
It terrified her, but she felt the steadiness in him. A deep well of strength that promised her safety and refuge.
Dillon only had a moment to wonder about what he saw in her eyes but lost coherency when the deep rocking grind became a hard, rough ride to ecstasy.
“Let go for me, Tiger Lily. I'll make it so good for us.”
'Good' didn't even come close to touching on how it felt. She had no control, no ability to restrain herself or keep anything back from him.
She lost count of how many times he pushed her over the edge, sent her soaring, and caught her up to do it all over again.
Sure she couldn't go another round without passing out, Dillon cried out in denial when he rolled to his back with her on top.
“I can't... Nasa. I can't.” She gasped, desperate for air.
Nasa ran his hands up and down her flanks, a hungry grin on his face. “Yes, you can. One more. One more for me.”
Shaking and swaying, Dillon leaned forward to brace her hands on the headboard in hopes of keeping herself upright.
Nasa groaned eagerly, hugging her to bring her closer, his lips latching on to suck and roll her nipples around in his mouth, every tug and scrape of his teeth causing her belly to give a wicked twist.
She wound up cradling his head in one arm to keep him there, rocking back and forth, grinding her clit against the tight muscles strapped across his pelvis, driving herself harder and harder against him to hit just the right spot inside, mindlessly chasing the ecstasy of one more release.
It was there, right there within her grasp. So focused on crossing the finish line, the simultaneous jerk of Nasa's hips and his teeth sinking into the tender flesh of her breast sent her hurtling forward as though propelled by an explosion.
She went willingly into the fire, trusting he was right there to catch her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Dillon came to in a daze, the familiar shape of Elka tucked tight at her back, her whuffling snores cutting through the quiet, her muscles twitching as she dreamed of chasing bunnies.
Gentle fingers brushed across Dillon’s hairline, down her cheek, along her jaw to trace the swell of her bottom lip. Her eyes popped open immediately to find Nasa resting beside her, watching her intently.
“Did I fall asleep?” she murmured, feeling her cheeks burn with a hit of awed disbelief as the memories moved through her sluggish mind in amazing detail.
A smug, satisfied grin spread across his face. “For a whole twelve hours. Right here in my bed, between Elka and me.”
“Wh—twelve hours?” Astonishment had her looking around to confirm she was in his bed. Without windows, all she had to rely on to tell the time was the clock on the bedside table behind Nasa. Apparently, it was half-past eight in the morning.
“Mmhm, how do you feel?”
Shocked. Extremely comfortable to feel the silk sheets against her bare skin. Well-rested. Then it hit her like a ton of bricks.
“I didn't have any nightmares.”
“Nope. Soon as I got you under the blankets, you snuggled in and didn't move an inch. Not even when Elka hopped up behind you.” Nasa hugged her with both arms, and Dillon frowned to realize she didn't feel his arm beneath her. Neither was her arm all twisted up between their bodies.
“I can't feel my arm or yours under me.”
He chuckled, his voice still a little rough from sleep. “There's a pair of slices cut into the mattress to fit your arm into when you're on your side. It's specifically designed for cuddling.”
Of course, he'd have a bed designed that way. “I like it, and I feel good. Really good.”
“No morning after regrets?” he asked with a crooked smile. Outwardly, it seemed like he was teasing her, but the seriousness in his searching gaze told her Nasa was concerned.
No doubt about it, last night had been undeniably intense. Hell, everything about yesterday counted as intense, but for the first time she could recall, Dillon woke without instantly resorting to fear-driven scenarios of how she planned to deal with the day ahead.
The relief she felt to wake up feeling relaxed and calm, ready for whatever came her way, was… astounding.
Dillon lay there, wallowing in the feelings that moved through her. Feathery and soft, painting her insides with color and happiness when before there had been only stark monochrome and misery.
Dillon shook her head. “Not a single one.”
Happiness deepened his smile and made the blue of his eyes brighten, like sunlight glinting across the ocean.
“Are you hungry? I can make breakfast.” Before Dillon could answer, Elka gave a low, urgent woof. “After we take the big girl to do her morning routine, obviously.”
“Sounds like a really good morning to me.”
“Me too,” Nasa agreed, reaching down to give her butt a squeeze. “Let's do it.”
Neither of them seemed to be in a rush to let go of one another, and Dillon knew if Elka hadn't needed to go out, she might not have left the bed fo
r a good long while. They shared another soft, intimate kiss, interrupted by Elka's whine.
“Now I get it,” Nasa grumbled with his lips still on hers. He flipped up the covers to let a blast of cold air rush over them, rolling until Dillon was firmly beneath him, his hard cock snuggled between her spread thighs.
She forgot all about the cold with Nasa on top of her. “Get what?”
“Why Roar bitches all the time about how bad it is to be cock blocked by a kid who needs to pee. You think it's funny, huh?” Dillon nodded around her giggles, reminding him of the new bathroom situation at the Morningstar home. Nasa blinked, then threw his head back and laughed joyously.
Dillon hadn't ever seen anything so beautiful.
“Shit, that's a story that'll never get old.” Nasa chortled and slid out of bed, taking his heat with him.
Dillon ate him up with her gaze, watching the muscles in his arms and torso flex when he raked his fingers through his sleep tousled hair.
He jolted forward with a hilarious, weebly sound of shock to accompany the thrust of his hips as he went up on his toes, glaring back at Elka.
“Watch the giblets there, Cujo. Geeze, if you feel like eating an ass, there's a whole mess of'em upstairs.” Dillon was still laughing when she got up. The idea of putting on yesterday's clothes made her cringe, but she should have known better.
“Here.” Nasa handed her a feminine but functional romper and an ultra-soft matching set of underwear. Considering how tender she was, the loose shorts of the dusty blue romper and the soft material? Perfect.
It amused her to see it took Nasa far longer to get dressed, not only because he had to situate his morning erection just so to avoid further discomfort, but because she'd put her bra on and stepped into her outfit in the time it took him to put on his pants. He still had a shirt, socks, boots, plus his cut to go.
Struck by a strange, nearly giddy feeling of shyness, Dillon fetched the heavy leather vest from its place on the wooden stand beside his bed.
