by Lucy Smoke
hit my cheek as Dean leans over me. "Of course," he replies.
"Fucking rich people," I mutter.
A laugh rumbles out of his chest as he leans closer and more water
droplets splash onto my cheeks. "You could be one of those fucking rich
people, too," he reminds me, his face hovering just above mine. His lips
close. "All you have to do is say yes."
Dean doesn't give me an opportunity to say no, though, because as soon
as the last word leaves his mouth his head dips and kisses me, burning away
all other thoughts, taking me and swallowing me up until I can't think of
anything but his body on top of mine.
I kiss him back. Frantic. Hard. Impassioned. I kiss him as if doing so will
erase the horrible memory of the nightmare from my mind. It won't, but it's
worth a fucking try.
30
AVALON
"TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT, BABY." DEAN'S VOICE IS GRUFF AND OH, SO
sexual. The stone floor against my back is cold compared to the heat of him
as he leans down over me, spreading my legs to move between them. The
friction of my clothes is restrictive. I want them off. I need them off.
"Dean..." I gasp, panting for breath when he finally pulls away, our lips
separating for an instant. He seems to guess what I'm thinking because in the
next moment, his hands are going to the hem of my t-shirt and he's ripping it
up and off of me. I do the same with his, grabbing the fabric and tugging until
we're a tangle of limbs, flipping over one another until we're naked from the
waist up. It's still not enough. Even with my breasts freed and rubbing
insistently against his pecs, the need inside of me is not lessening.
I grab him by the belt and yank him down, grinding up into him as he
returns my brutal kiss. Everything about us is fire—burning away all rational
thought. I'm okay with that. I don't need it around him. All I need is him.
"Fuck, baby..."
"That's what I want," I reply. "I want you to fuck me, Dean. Fuck me like
you did the first time. Like I want you to do until the day I die."
His eyes glimmer with a dangerous glint. They threaten. They promise.
They heat me up from the inside. He pulls back for a moment and simply
looks down at me. I know I'm red faced and turned on. The burn underneath
my skin grows hotter, the crawling warmth of lust. It feels like an eternity
that he just sits there staring at me. It's almost long enough to make me shove
him off and finish the job myself—that's how badly I need to come.
Just before it reaches that pivotal point, however, Dean finally breaks. He
moves like a snake, lithe and fast, standing and then reaching down for me.
He hoists me up into his arms and begins to walk. I wrap my still cloth
covered legs around his waist as we leave the rest of our clothes behind. He
strides through the penthouse in fast movements, but every single step he
takes makes my pussy brush against the hard cock pulsating between us.
I bite down on my lip to keep a whimper at bay. I've never needed
anything the way I need him now. My chest is tight, like a wire is cutting
across my throat, refusing to let air pass through. I lean down and press my
forehead into his shoulder. It's too much. It's not enough.
"Almost there..." His words are barely audible, almost below a whisper,
but I hear them. They make my pulse jump and my skin tingle. I clench my
arms around him even harder.
Dean kicks a door open and shoves inside what looks to be a bedroom
and then suddenly, my back is pressed against a wall and his mouth is on
mine once more. His hands move against my back, stroking, tightening,
moving. All over me, I feel him. But I need more; I need him inside of me
too. As far and as deep as he can go.
We fall sideways across the bed, our fingers gripping onto each other’s
pants, wrangling those off until they fall over the side of the mattress in wet
heaps. My hair fans out across the white sheets and the comforter beneath us
grows wet as we roll around. I can't seem to find it in me to give a shit. In
fact, I don't give a shit about anything but throwing one leg over Dean's hips
and sitting up as I reach down, gripping his cock by the base and carefully
adjusting it so that his head is pressed up into the entrance of my pussy.
"Fuck yes," he breathes, hands finding my waist as he helps me to sink
down on him. My head rolls back on my shoulders as that piercing of his hits
the right fucking spot and makes stars dance behind my closed eyelids. I
groan, loud and long, and then, with exacting movements, I start to ride.
Up and down and forward and backwards, I slide onto his length, letting
it fill me up and take me even higher. Fuck drugs. Fuck alcohol. Fuck
adrenaline. The only thing I need is this right here. The only thing I need is
Dean.
Dean's hands skate up my ribcage, cupping the undersides of my breasts
as he arches up and takes one into his mouth. Teeth bite down, viciously
tugging in a way that makes something else inside of me fight to break free.
The pain makes me gasp and sink my hands into his hair, holding him to me
as he laves the little hurt he gave me with his tongue to make it feel better. I
don't want it to feel better.
"Don't be gentle," I warn him, pulling back as I open my eyes and stare
down into his. "I don't fucking need gentle."
"What do you need, then?" he asks. His face is serious, devoid of any
teasing glint. I have the feeling that if I tell him I need the world, he'll go out
and get it for me. What he doesn't realize, yet, though, is that he is my world
in this moment. He is my everything, and that fact scares the shit out of me.
That's the reason I said no. Why I gave the ring back.
"I need to come," I tell him instead.
In a flash, he flips me over until my back hits the bed and he looms above
me. "Then I'll make you come," he promises, and proceeds to do just that.
He fucks into me in long, hard, irrefutable strokes. His cock thrusts in and
out, sending me to heights I didn't even fucking know existed. My nails sink
into his shoulders, drag down his arms, and scrape up his sides. Everywhere
my fingers brush against him feels hot to the touch.
Our mouths open, lips and teeth clashing in jerky, ineffectual movements.
It's not a seduction so much as it's a battle, a war we rage on each other's
bodies. There are no winners in this, however. Or perhaps, we're both
winners.
My spine stiffens and I pull away as he rams into me with several shallow
thrusts and skates against that magical fucking place inside of my pussy. I cry
out and lock onto him. Tears cascade down my cheeks. My vision turns
blurry. My heart races, screaming to get out. I'm afraid it'll find its way, that
it'll burst from me and run far, far away. I wouldn't blame it. I'm not kind to
the damn thing at all, not like he is.
And just before he comes, Dean drags in a gasp of air and leans down so
that his lips are right next to my ear. "Avalon..." He groans my name in that
wicked, low baritone of his. The sound of it vibrates through me and makes
me clench down as he comes apart above me, his cock jerki
ng as he fills me
up, the warmth of his cum sliding through me and making me shiver.
Seconds later, he collapses to the side, rolling me with him with an arm
around my waist. Panting, sweating, and tired out of my mind, I close my
eyes and just try to get my breathing back under control.
I've fucked a few guys before—lonely people who were just looking for a
body to lose themselves in—but I've never had with anyone what I have with
Dean Carter.
Half dried, his hair sticks up at odd angles, curling at the ends. With his
eyes closed and his skin flushed, I stare at the outline of his face, frowning at
the long, dark lashes that cast shadows down his cheeks. For such a badass,
he's too fucking pretty.
Dean's arm tenses, and without opening his eyes, he drags me closer until
our skin is flush against one another. My heart starts to race again. How the
fuck can he do this? Is there some sort of control he has that I don't know
about? It doesn't seem fair.
His eyes open and two pools of dark brown stare at me as his lips quirk
up to one side. "I'm not done," he warns me. "Not by a long shot."
Minutes later, with my face pressed into a pillow, I come for a second
time as Dean rides me from behind. With my legs pressed together between
both of his thighs, I scream as my orgasm slams into me, and without
warning, Dean pulls out of my pussy. His hands grip my asscheeks, pulling
them apart. Cum shoots over my asshole, making me stiffen. Then, just as
quickly, his hand delves underneath me and his thumb circles my clit, making
me moan as oversensitivity assails me.
"Make that sound again," he commands.
I grit my teeth, the rebellious bitch in me refusing to give him what he
wants, but his low chuckle vibrating against my back warns me I'll have no
fucking choice. He pinches my clit between his thumb and forefinger, making
my back arch and a gasp leave my lips as another moan bubbles out. He slaps
my ass with his free hand and then the pressure against my clit releases as he
backs up.
I keep my face in the pillow as I try to catch my breath, but turn my cheek
to the side so it's easier. Dean's shadow falls across the bed, and I pause as his
hands land on my ass, cupping and squeezing me. His spent cock slips
between my thighs, rubbing against my skin and making me shiver. A thick
finger trails up from my pussy to where his cum remains against my asshole
and I stiffen all over again as he circles it, pushing some of the wetness there
inside. His cock starts to harden once more.
My head lifts. My breathing speeds up. “What the fuck do you think
you’re doing?” I hiss.
A dark chuckle escapes him, lingering in the air. The sound sends a
vibration of something wicked through me. “I’m just wondering how hard I
can fuck you here and how much noise you’ll make for me, baby,” he replies.
“Who says I’ll let you fuck me there?” I counter, forcing my voice to
remain steady. The dream I had before lingers in the back of my mind. This is
different, I tell myself. This is Dean.
Fingers dig into the cheeks of my ass, spreading them further apart. “Oh,
you’ll let me before too long,” he says, all confidence. “But don’t worry …
nothing I do to you will ever be something you don’t want.” That statement is
all it takes. That’s right. Dean’s not Roger. There’s nothing to fear here.
Nonetheless, as if he senses my discomfort, he still draws his finger away.
The heat of his skin settles behind me, his knuckles bumping against the
inner skin of my thighs as he lines up the head of his cock again with my
dripping pussy. I groan as he sinks back into me.
I shiver against every bump and ridge of his cock as it penetrates me,
moving deep within me, conquering my pussy like it's his territory for the
taking. Who the fuck am I kidding? It is. My pussy is just as much his as his
cock is mine. I gasp and release a moan.
“So noisy when I fuck you, baby,” he says with a quiet laugh. “I like
hearing how much you want me.” He pulls out and slams back into me,
causing me to cry out, my hands slapping against the comforter. Not again, I
think. I can't fucking come again. I'm too worn out. Dean doesn't think to ask
that and I can't bear for him to stop this madness. I scratch at the sheets,
digging into them, and scream as another orgasm crashes into me and I come
with Dean shaking against my back, pulsating inside of me.
Only after that third round do the two of us finally drop. I groan into the
pillow and the sound has nothing to do with sexual desire and everything to
do with the soreness between my legs.
"I blame you for this," Dean says with gasping breaths.
"Me?" I huff.
"You're too fucking hot to resist," he accuses, making me laugh.
"Maybe I am," I agree with my own amusement rising, "but you have to
admit, it's not like you tried very hard."
Dean looks at me as if I've grown a second head. "Why the fuck would I
resist?" he replies. "If I die by sex then that's a good fucking way to go in my
book."
Turning my cheek into the soft comforter, I let out a laugh, my shoulders
shaking. There, in that fucking hotel bed, with Dean at my side and laughter
in my veins, is the most blissful I've ever fucking been in my life.
31
AVALON
SECONDS PASS INTO MINUTES PASS INTO HOURS, AND ALL WE DO IS HANG OUT
in that fucking bed. We shower and clean all of the sweat and chlorine water
and sex off of us and then crawl right back between the sheets. Neither of us
has the energy to get dressed, but Dean calls for room service and finally
manages to pull on a pair of basketball shorts from our luggage to grab the
food.
I watch him come back, setting a tray on the end of the bed as I pull up
the sheet and tuck it underneath my arms. On it is an assortment of fruit and
bread and cheese and it's the best fucking food I've ever had in my goddamn
life. Dean jumps onto the head of the bed and pushes me up until he can sit
down with my back against his chest.
He doesn't say anything, but every once in a while, he'll snag a piece of
food from my fingertips and chew and swallow it before nuzzling into the
side of my throat. I was never supposed to be this girl. I had no plans to be.
Life, however, has a funny way of destroying expectations. So does Dean
Carter. He came crashing into my life, full of ego and hate and doubt. To be
honest, I was all of those things at first too.
I didn't like him. I didn't want to be near him. I certain as fuck didn't trust
him.
Now, I can't picture the rest of my life without him. It hurts to try.
And as if he can sense the direction of my thoughts Dean leans forward
and his voice rumbles against my back. "What are you thinking about, baby?"
he asks. His fingers move up and down my arm and then his hand cups my
face from the side as he tilts it up for me to look at him. Even that, I can't help
but enjoy. I turn my face into the palm of his hand and inhale his scent. It's
calming and it makes me realize that for a few short ho
urs, I forgot. About
Patricia. About Roger. About that fucking nightmare. Even about Corina. He
makes me forget everything except him and I don't know if that's good or
dangerous. I can't help but feel that it's a little bit of both.
"I'm thinking about how this all started," I tell him honestly.
"Oh?" He raises a brow and his lips quirk.
"Yeah. I was remembering a time when I couldn't fucking stand you—it
wasn't that long ago, you know."
He laughs quietly. "Sometimes, I still think you can't fucking stand me."
"Sometimes, you're right," I reply, moving closer until my face is buried
against his chest. The smell of him is stronger here. It makes my stomach
clench.
His hand moves back from my face, into my hair as his other one curves
around to press against my lower stomach, his fingers stroking back and
forth. "You know I love you, right?" he asks. All at once, the relaxation
disappears. My body stiffens, and I struggle not to pull away. Dean chuckles,
the sound loud in my ears. "You don't have to say it back, baby. Not yet. I
know you love me, too."
I bite my lip, chewing on it as I think. "I don't hate you as much as I hate
the rest of the world," I offer instead.
Dean's shoulders move up and down in jerky movements and his hand
flattens against my stomach as he laughs again, this time in silence. When
he's done, he sucks in a quick breath and his hands start to stroke once more.
"I suppose I should feel lucky things ended this way for us," he says. "If we'd
gone on any longer hating each other and trying to tear each other apart, I
think you might've unmanned me."
I snort. "I did," I reply, “or did you forget what happened at the beach
estate?"
"No." He shakes his head. "I didn't forget—I guess you did, then. What I
mean, though, is that, if either of us had held out for much longer maybe we
wouldn't have ended up where we are now … and, baby? I like where I
fucking am right now." He pulls me closer, sliding a leg between mine as his
fingers skim down. His hand cups my ass, adjusting me so that I'm riding his
thigh. "I really like where I am," he repeats.
Dirty fucker, I think, but it's not with any heat. I like where I am right
now, too.
"Ava..." Dean pushes me forward slightly and moves off the bed. He dips
