“And then I got back from the market, only to find you in my shower. Were your hands really that careless with the curtain or did you secretly want me to see every inch of your naked, gorgeous body?” He asks but doesn’t wait for my response. “I think you secretly like to tease me.”
His hands move to my lower back. Shivers roll up my spine as his fingers brush under the hem of my shirt. I’m intensely aware of every small touch, every soft kiss he places across my skin. And I’m desperate for more. I need his hands and mouth all over me, his cock inside of me. I start to turn around, but his hands grip my hips, holding me in place.
“And then I had to watch you walk around my kitchen, in my shirt, and every time you’d move your arms, I’d get a glimpse of your bare breasts through the opened sleeves. I’m starting to wonder if you’re hell bent on driving me mad.” He punctuates it with a tiny thrust of his hips, rubbing himself against me. “How wet did it make you, knowing that I came in the shower to thoughts of you?”
I whimper. “W-what was I doing? When you were stroking yourself, and thinking of me, what was I doing?” My voice is breathy and desperate.
I feel his smile on my neck. “My face was between your legs, you were grabbing your perfect tits and coming against my tongue . . . Do you want to fuck my mouth, Brooke?”
Is that even a question?
“Because I’m quite fond of the idea of you spread across my face, coming in that wild, savage way of yours.”
“Yes,” I moan. Desire pools deep in my belly. His large body towers behind mine, the warmth of his skin seeping into my pores. And I thought I was turned on last night . . . Good God, I’m trembling with need. I want to crawl out of my body and into his.
He reaches down, removing my hand from the table, and tugs it behind me, pressing it firmly against him. I curl my fingers around him, stroking him through his briefs. “Is this from me?”
His body arches into my palm with a rough thrust. “I’ve been like this since I got out of the shower and saw you shaking your little ass to The Strokes. I want your hips to move like that while you’re riding my cock,” he whispers into my ear. “What part of last night turned you on the most?” His tongue licks along the lobe, and then sucks it into his hot mouth.
My breasts grow heavy, nipples straining against cotton. This is too much, the way he’s drawing this out and making me crazed for him.
“Answer me, love.” I love the way he sounds so demanding yet entirely sweet at the same time. He’s a dangerous combination of alpha and beta, all seductive bad-boy and tender lover.
“Pressing myself against you in the dark corner of the terrace . . . Tasting your lips with my tongue . . . The way you knew just the right way to touch me . . . Everything . . .” I moan, head falling back against his chest.
“Are you wet for me?”
“Yes,” I purr. “I’m dying for you to touch me.”
Large hands span my waist, gripping the material of my shirt and pulling it over my head. His fingers make quick work of my jean shorts, and they fall to the floor. Dylan groans. “Fuck, you’re even wearing my briefs.” His hand slides between my legs, feeling my arousal that’s soaked the cotton material. “And you’re drenched,” he admires, sliding his fingers over my clit and dipping down into my wetness.
“Touch yourself, Brooke.” He grabs my hand and slides it inside the briefs.
I am wet. It’s becoming painful how wild I am for him. I stroke myself roughly; feeling frenzied when his hands move across my breasts.
“Stop,” he demands. “Let me taste you.”
I pull my hand free and lift it to his mouth. Trembling fingers paint his lips, my arousal glistening on his skin. He sucks two fingers into his mouth. His tongue curls around them, warm and soft.
“Oh fuck, I need . . .” It’s torture, the way his tongue flutters and licks at my fingers. My hips thrust on their own accord, my body searching for relief. I want his mouth between my legs. I need his tongue doing that against my clit.
“Tell me what you need,” he whispers into my ear. And then he resumes the sweetest torture of my life.
My body is aching, downright frantic. In an instant, I’m pulling my hand away, turning my body and pressing myself against his hard chest. My fingers slide into his hair, gripping the ends and slamming his lips to mine. I slide my tongue against his, kissing him deep, tasting myself. My nipples grow harder, rubbing against his hot skin.
He grips my ponytail, wrapping it around his wrist and pulling my head from his. “Tell me what you need, love,” he says, eyes fixed on mine.
“Touch me . . . Taste me . . . I want to fuck your mouth.”
He releases my hair and pushes the briefs down my legs. “Get on the table.”
On shaky legs, I obey. The wood is cool against my burning skin. Dylan sits down in front of me, setting my feet on his bare thighs. His fingers run a smooth path from my ankle to inner thighs. “Please,” I beg, looking down at him. My body is restless, shifting and squirming and trying to find release.
“Shhh . . .” he admonishes. His fingers grip my thighs, holding them in place and spreading me open. He leans forward, blowing hotly against my center. His tongue starts a blazing, tortuous path along my inner thighs, moving slowly towards where I need him the most. “Christ, you’re wet. Are you aching with need, love?” His eyes fixate between my legs.
My body blushes at how utterly exposed I am to his hooded stare.
He looks up at my face, his eyes laced with appreciation. “I love that fucking blush of yours.” His thumb brushes my cheek. “The way your creamy skin flushes the sexiest shade of red . . . You’re like a little peach. And you taste just as sweet too. Like fucking candy on my tongue.”
Pleading noises escape my throat when he sucks at a spot above my pubic bone. It’s hard enough to leave a bruise. “Dylan,” I whisper his name like a prayer. I’m beyond anxious, but not in the normal way I’ve known myself to be. I’m anxious for his mouth. I feel starved, hungry for what only he can give.
He noses at my pussy, pressing, kissing, and with teeth bared, glides across my hips, my thighs, my lips, and my belly. I’ve lost all rational thought, solely focused on what he’s doing and where I need him and how positively wet I am. Hips rise, my body shakes, and pleading words spill from my lips.
“Say the words again, and I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you ask, Brooke.”
My mouth opens, but only a whimper comes out. My hands attempt to brace themselves behind my back, fingers searching for something to grip.
Leaning back, he eyes me with a sharp look. “Tell me what you need,” his voice growls for my response.
“I need you . . . Please . . .”
“Oh, ma belle Brooke . . .” He shakes his head, tittering under his breath. “I need you to be more specific than that.”
I need you to stop teasing me! My pulse speeds up, turning into a crazy rhythm, all cymbals crashing and obnoxious kick-drum, the complete opposite of slow and steady. Everything inside me is pulsating and striving for release. “I need your mouth on me.” My tone sounds pissy. His teasing and delicious torment have driven me mad.
He laughs softly, visibly enjoying my reaction. Bastard. “Let me hear that dirty little mouth, love.” I can’t deny that I get a thrill from seeing this side of him. That clever mouth has the power to seduce this uninhibited side out of me. And fuck, I want to be wild with him again.
My reticence is gone, only urge and desire and suffocating need are in control.
I lean towards him, gripping his chin. “Put your mouth on my pussy, Dylan, before I lose my fucking mind. I want you to suck and lick at my clit. I want you to slide your fingers inside of me.” I crush my lips to his, sliding my tongue into his mouth. “I want to fuck this pussy-tease of a mouth until I’m coming all over your lips.”
He smiles against my lips. “Lay back, Little Wing.”
I do as I’m told, lying back on the table. A shaky breath escapes my lungs when his h
ands run up my thighs, spreading me as wide as I can possibly go.
“You are the sweetest contradiction. One minute you’re blushing because my eyes are staring at your perfect cunt and the next you’re demanding to fuck my mouth.” He leans forward and licks a long firm line against me, directly, exactly where I need him.
Oh God, yes
He moans against me. “I thought your mouth tasted sweet, but your pussy tastes even better.”
Dylan’s mouth is all over me. Sucking and licking at my clit. All of the teasing and torment have me so riled that I’m chanting his name over and over again, loud enough that’s it’s echoing inside his flat. I feel the pleasurable build start at my belly, pooling and magnifying by the second. He’s moaning against me, whispering praise of how good I taste, and how sexy I am, and how he can’t wait to slide his cock inside of me.
The instant he thrusts two fingers inside, I scream. Loud pants and whimpers spill from my lips. It’s too much. My hands grab at the table, trying to hold myself together because surely I’m going to burst into a million fucking pieces. I run my fingers through his hair, gripping the strands, as my hips start moving on their own accord.
“Yes, Brooke,” he growls against my clit between intense sucks and pulls.
It builds higher and higher, rising to a level that borders on pain. A level that has my legs tensing up and attempting to pull closed because the feeling is consuming nerve endings that I didn’t know existed.
Good . . . So good . . . Too good . . .
Dylan holds me open, continuing the wet slide of his tongue and the deep thrust of two long fingers. “It’s too much.” I panic for a second, worried about what will happen once this intensity peaks.
“Just let go, Brooke. Let yourself fall.” The vibration of his voice pushes me over the edge.
Holy hell.
I’m shaking and screaming, and my body feels suffocated from my orgasm. Waves and waves of delirious pleasure wash over me. They are never ending, seemingly infinite in length. My lungs can hardly keep up.
Holy fucking hell.
I’m still shuddering and panting as Dylan rises to his feet, swiping an arm across his mouth. I’m blissful and dazed as I lean up, on my hands. He’s standing in front of me, his neck tense and erection very visible beneath his boxer briefs.
“Bloody hell, Brooke. I need you in my bed. Now.”
In an instant, he’s pulling me into his arms, wrapping my still-trembling legs around his waist, and carrying me up the stairs. He kisses me deeply, roughly even, as he strides towards the bed.
“Sit,” he tells me, setting my feet on the floor. In two steps, he’s out of his boxer briefs, leaving him deliciously naked. I stare at his golden skin, the taut V of his hips, and his jutting cock. He’s straining, skin stretched tight and swollen at the tip. Is he as hard and smooth and silky as he looks?
I have a fleeting thought of wondering how this man has turned my world on its side. He’s got me so ready, so willing to do anything he tells me. Losing control and letting someone make all of the decisions where sex is concerned has always been a shameful experience for me, dirty even, and not in a good way. It’s the way that no amount of showering can scrub off my skin. It’s why one-night stands have always repulsed me. It’s why I’ve never had a healthy sexual relationship. And it’s why Jamie is such a safe place.
Dylan has weaved some sort of magic, putting me under his spell. He’s the perfect combination of attentive and dominant lover. It makes me feel safe while encouraging me to let my walls down.
The music is still filtering from downstairs; it’s been on continuous shuffle since he first played The Strokes, one song blurring into another. I didn’t notice it when he had me spread across his kitchen table, everything around me had faded, the music a mere white noise compared to what he was doing with his mouth. But now, my ears hone in on Jesse Rutherford’s soulful voice as it fills the otherwise quiet apartment. The heady beat of The Neighbourhood’s A Little Death is pumping out of the speakers.
Long fingers fist his cock while he stands in front of my sitting form. Every hard inch of him is perfectly level with my face. He strokes from base to tip, staring down at me. It’s purely erotic the way he’s touching himself, his hooded eyes watching me watch him.
I fantasized about what Dylan looked like in the shower when he got off to thoughts of me. The visuals my mind conjured up didn’t do this justice. I’m shifting on the bed from the pulsating ache that’s rousing between my legs. This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I lick my lips at the sight, provoking a deep groan from his lips.
“Wrap your lips around me,” he says. His voice is damn near raw with desire.
The lyrics from the song strike a nerve, beckoning me. I’m reckless, uninhibited. I feel like I can say or do anything I want. It’s not pretend. It’s me wanting to be me, with him.
Fuck, I want to taste him, feel how hard he is against my tongue.
The song mirrors the feral look in Dylan’s eyes. The fierce expression on his face reveals how much he wants this, how much he wants me. I’m looking up at him, hungry and ready to devour. “Feed it to me,” I beg. My eyes are heavy-lidded, teeth biting at my bottom lip.
His hand strokes to the base of his cock, holding it out for me. With jaw clenched, and hooded eyes focused on my mouth, he rubs the tip across my lips. “Open those fuck-me lips,” he says, and I obey, not wanting to do anything else.
My tongue circles the crown of his shaft as he pushes himself into my mouth.
“Suck. Me,” he groans again, but it’s deeper this time, downright guttural. His hand grips my hair, gently pushing a little deeper into my mouth. By the shaking fingers pressing against my head, I can tell he’s holding back. He can barely restrain himself from driving deep and fucking my mouth without restraint. I’m high, practically addicted, to the rush I’m getting from his passionate need for me.
I wrap my lips around him, savoring the combination of smooth and silky, yet firm and hard. He’s thick and engorged and swollen with the need for release. I suck him hard and as deep as I possibly can, over and over and over again. When I gag a little, he starts to pull back, but I grab his ass pulling him deeper.
It pushes him over the edge. Both of his strong hands are in my hair, hips thrusting erratically, as he loses himself. A feral sound releases from his lungs, and then abruptly, he pulls away too soon for my greedy mouth. I lean forward, trying to put my lips on him again, but he steps back. His chest heaves up and down, as he wraps a fist around his cock. “Lie back.”
He watches me, eyes dark and impatient, as I scoot farther up the bed. I lie back, spreading my legs wide for his perusal. I want to feel him. I need him inside of me.
“Touch yourself, show me you’re ready,” he demands and then moves towards the nightstand, pulling a condom from the drawer.
With eyes wide and pinned to his, my fingers are sliding through my wetness. He kneels between my thighs, tearing the wrapper with his teeth. My fingers rub my clit, inciting soft moans from my lips.
Brows drawn, he rolls the condom down his length. I wish I had my phone so I could take a picture of him like this, his serious and focused expression. I want to capture an image of his shaking hands so I can remember the urgency in his need for this . . . for me. He moves forward, one hand by my head and the other guiding himself towards me. I feel the heavy press of him at my entrance, barely pushing inside, and then pulling back out.
“No . . . no . . . no . . .” I whimper, begging to feel him all the way inside. I’ve never felt so impatient in my life, so utterly greedy to be filled.
He brushes his lips across mine, as he rubs his tip against my clit. “Did you know it would be like this between us?” he asks, but I can’t respond, because the breath is punched out of my lungs as he enters me in one long, single push.
“Oh fuck.” My head falls back, eyes rolling towards the heavens.
His hands brace my inner thighs as he pulls back slowly
.
My hands grip his shoulders in response, nails digging into his skin.
His mouth responds with a hiss, and then a deep, husky groan. “I knew it would be like this between us. The moment I watched you walk off the métro , I knew it.” Hips thrust, slide back again, and he holds himself deep. “In the span of ten minutes, I saw you blush over the word come, and then I provoked that dirty little mouth of yours to throw sass in my direction.” He doesn’t move while his mouth finds mine, kissing me softly, and then hard, and then sucking at my bottom lip. “I knew you’d be hesitant, but if I could get you to lose yourself and submit to my touch, you’d be wild and reckless, and bloody hell, seeing you so wanton, so fucking greedy for my cock, is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“It’s so good, but I need more. God, I need so much more,” I plead. My hands slide to his ass, gripping the firm and tone skin, and fruitlessly trying to get him to move. “Fuck me, Dylan. Please, fuck me.”
“Do you need reminding, love? Do you want me to show you how good it feels when you let go?”
I nod frantically, knowing he’s referring to what happened in the kitchen . . . and the terrace. “Yes,” I gasp.
After what feels like an eternity, Dylan begins to move, slow and heavy strokes at first, and then heads towards a punishing rhythm. He grabs my hands, gripping them above my head. His chest rubs against mine, as he continues to drive into me, every grind and thrust becoming harder, faster.
I’m panting and shuddering with my impending release as my legs wrap around his waist. My thighs tighten around him as the pressure builds. He’s fucking me in earnest now, not holding anything back, and racing towards his release while making sure that he’s bringing me right along with him.
His lips are by my ear whispering sweet praise and filthy thoughts. When his voice turns seductive and switches to fluent French, I clench around him, and after several pounding thrusts, I’m falling, completely losing it. My head pushes back into the bed. Hoarse cries spill from my lips as I come.
Dylan is right behind me. His mouth latches onto the pulse at my neck, and his lungs release a raw growl. He holds himself as deep as he can possibly go while his length pulsates inside of me.
Forget (Changing Colors Book 1) Page 20
