I grinned. That definitely curbed the tension from earlier.
So did Alex shouting, “Yeah!” He and Selby hugged. “We planned that!”
“We did!” Selby pointed at me and a fit of clapping sounded until the party resumed.
From there it grew more rambunctious. Alex and Selby danced and circulated with their guests, who couldn’t get enough of dancing, drinking and laughter. Meanwhile, I snuck outside with the rest of the wedding party following Dean’s guidance, and we put our all into decorating the hell out of Alex’s car for their big send-off. When they were ready to go, starry-eyed and smiling, everyone headed out after them with claps and cheers during their goodbye.
“Damn good wedding,” Ryan said, coming up beside me.
I rubbed his arm, the sentiment making me return his smile. “Agreed. Thanks for driving them to the airport.” He’d known Dean and I were going to help close the party down and eventually find our way back to his place, and because Ryan was on housesitting duty for the newlyweds, it’d made sense.
“It’s fine. I’ll see you soon.”
“For sure.”
Dean came up to my other side then, and though Ryan drew back his shoulders, I tried not to pay attention. Dean wrapped his arm around my waist and offered his free hand to Ryan to shake, and it didn’t seem to help matters.
“Thanks,” Dean said.
“Yeah.” Ryan glanced at Dean’s hand, unenthused when he took it, but Selby’s jump in to throw her arms around me broke the awkwardness.
I squeezed her hands as she drew back. “Enjoy yourselves, okay?”
“Oh my goodness, yes! We will!”
Alex stepped in to hug me goodbye, and I said, “You take care of my girl in Italy!”
“I’ll take care of her forever, Maya.”
“Ah, dammit, Alex.” I wiped the tear forming at the corner of my eye and pulled back from him before Selby hugged me again. “I was doing so well, too.”
Selby said, “I love you, sweetie.”
“You, too. I’m so happy for you.”
Her eyes misted over and she scooted away fast. “Okay, we’ve got to get out of here. It’s honeymoon time!”
“Have fun!” we called.
Ryan patted my back and left for the driver’s seat without another glance at Dean, and then Selby and Alex climbed inside the car, waving at everyone through the windows. After they drove away, Dean met my eyes with a loving smile that swelled my heart.
“I think they’re going to have a good time, don’t you?” he asked.
“I do.” Dean curled me close and I played my fingers along his tie before he leaned in for a kiss. His lips were sweet, his broad chest warm through the layers of his tuxedo. I trailed my finger down the length of his tie, then fondled the edge of his jacket. When he reciprocated with the brush of his fingers along my cheek, I decided I was letting go of all of it. I wanted to enjoy this, us, the rest of the party.
“What do you say we grab another drink and get our dance on?” Dean asked.
I squealed as he whisked me back into the hall to finish the celebration.
Chapter Six
The rest of the reception was a beautiful bash. We had an hour and a half left on the hall winery rental, and as the guests streamed out, Dean and I said goodbyes between dances and helping Stephanie with the details she checked in with me on, which included the packing of all the wedding gifts in her car for delivery at Selby and Alex’s place tomorrow. For the most part, though, Dean and I spent the time enjoying each other’s moves until the deejay announced last dance.
“Ah, too bad,” Dean said, his fingers laced with mine as he spun us around in a close embrace.
“I know. We were finally getting a real dance.”
Dean tilted back his head, his smile light. “Hardly. I think I still need to take you out dancing properly.”
“You know I’m game.”
“Good.” I rested my head against his chest and closed my eyes, swaying with him while his hand enclosed mine. “There are so many things I want to try with you, Maya.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Naughty things?”
“And nice, too. I love spending time with you. Knowing you more. Being with you.” With the look in his eyes when I drew back, I was getting lost in it all.
“You’re sweet,” I said.
Dean clutched me tighter, skimming his lips over my temple. “Just happy.”
“Me, too.”
“All right, everyone. Thanks for coming out and goodnight!”
I chuckled at the deejay’s parting words, since they were aimed at Stephanie, Dean, me and the half dozen winery staff members starting cleanup. “Guess we shut it down?”
“I think so. Ready to head back?” Dean asked.
“I am.”
He kissed me there, right in the middle of the dance floor, and I leaned into him. With the enthusiasm from my best friend’s wedding occupying me, and the extra drink I’d had, I was warm. Glowing.
“Take me home,” I whispered.
The ride back flew by, Dean’s hand around mine save for the occasional grazes he took of my thigh. I’d transferred the bag of things I’d packed to put in his drawers into his back seat earlier, and after we parked in Dean’s driveway and he took it out for me, he looked me over in our walk into the house with such an adorable beam filling his face.
“What?” I asked.
He unlocked the door and gestured up the stairs. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs.”
We did, quickly. Dean flipped on the light and set my bag at the foot of his bed, then he stripped both his jacket and vest away, laying them atop his dresser.
He kept smiling, and when I lifted my hands to unfasten the halter ties of my dress, he shook his head. “Don’t. Leave it on.”
“Do you have a thing for bridesmaids’ dresses, Dean?”
He winked and returned to me, running a palm over my waist and stealing a long, slow kiss from my lips. “If you’re in one, yes.”
Before I could respond, he moved away. He headed toward the upholstered chair in the corner of his room, surprising me when he pulled it out from the wall and beckoned me over to sit. It was past one in the morning, and I think it was safe to say we were both tired and tipsy. Okay, I was probably more tipsy—but that didn’t stop me from taking the seat. When Dean lowered himself into a straddle over my lap with his legs over the solid mahogany arms, I wasn’t sure the chair would hold both our weight. This thought didn’t seem to concern him, because he pressed each palm flat against the chair back on either side of my shoulders, his lips still turned up at the corners. He shifted a tiny bit, and I examined his expression, trying to figure out what he was up to.
“Oh my...” I purred. “Are you about to give me a lap dance?”
He snickered, his irises twinkling in the dim lamplight. “Don’t you wish?”
“I think that’d be amazing.”
Dean lifted one finger to strum my cheek. He didn’t kiss me; instead, he gazed over my face, so transfixed my heart picked up its pace. He’d shaved for the wedding, but the slightest amount of scruff had started to sprout on his face this late in the day, and I reached up to trail my fingers along his jaw. The musk of dancing fun lingered around us from both our bodies, but I inhaled a residual whiff of his amber cologne as he loosened his tie, then started to unfasten his shirt before tilting toward my ear.
“I don’t know if you’ve earned that.” Dean tongued the shell of my ear, spreading sensation through my scalp and washing my arms with goose bumps. The peek of his chest made him look just the right amount of sophisticated yet undone before he said, “Nor do I think you could even handle that.”
I giggled. For a second, he humored me, his face light and adoring. When he bit his lip and trace
d his thumb over my bottom one, he abruptly climbed off the chair and stood with his legs flush to my knees.
I moaned. “Come back.”
“Patience, love. I’ve been waiting to take advantage of your wedding friskiness all damn week.” The way he drew out the words in that gravelly voice of his stilled me, and I ran my palms over the chiffon fabric of my dress. My interest was piqued, the thrum of my pulse amplifying as Dean raised his fingers back up to his tie, taking his time to unloosen the knot. He tugged it until the fabric slid around his neck in a steady unwind. The beat inside my chest grew faster, louder, and once he stretched the tie out in his hands between us, the sound of my heart consumed me, lighting sparks inside for whatever Dean could be dreaming up. He walked around behind me and brushed my hair aside, clearing my neck for the faintest kiss. “Hands,” he commanded.
Without hesitation, I weaved them through the side slots of the chair and curved them around the back. The chair was too wide for me to clasp them together, but Dean made do. He took one wrist and circled the smooth fabric of the tie around it, knotting it in place, and then he stretched it across to bind the other one a few inches away. The hold wasn’t that secure, but Dean didn’t have to worry about me attempting to wriggle free. Not when I enjoyed the play between us like I did.
“Isn’t this a rental tie?” I asked.
“It is. Part of the tux.”
“Tsk tsk, Dean. Will they approve of your use of it?”
Dean shushed me by resting his palms on my shoulders, the weight of his hands heavy, centering me. I tilted my head back against the bulge already forming at his crotch and gazed up at him, entranced. I gave the slightest of rubs to taunt him.
“You’re so sassy.”
“Would you have me any other way?”
“Not at all.” Dean combed his fingers through the length of my hair, caressing the base of my skull each time he took another stroke. Before I relaxed too far into it, though, he stepped to my side, hooking his fingertips under the button of his slacks to blare my pulse louder in my ears. “But I do know of a good way to quiet you down.”
I inhaled. Dean popped open the button, then unzipped his slacks and stepped against me, and I dove to reach him with a hungry groan. The second he freed himself from his briefs, I defied the pin of my hands, tilting as best I could to taste him. The tie tugged at my skin, and I didn’t want the loose knots to come undone, because that wouldn’t be any fun. So, smirking, I watched Dean’s face and stretched my tongue out to meet his swollen length. He knew I loved tasting him, sucking him, riling him up like this, and tonight, I was extra eager. Once Dean shifted close enough for me to circle my lips around his cockhead to give a hard suck, it was obvious he was playing with me, pretending—despite the subtlest flare of his nostrils—that the heat of my mouth didn’t faze him at all. He set about casually unfastening another button on his shirt while I took him as far in my mouth as I could with my arms barring my reach. He tasted a little sweaty, musty, but always good. I strained to swallow another inch, circling my tongue along the ridge of his tip and moaning, loud.
Dean grunted. The quiver of his eyelids revealed how much I’d affected him despite him managing to calmly unbutton his entire shirt. He cupped his hand beneath my chin to draw it up an inch, then arched his hips to sink deeper into my throat. I sucked air in through my nose before his voice came raspy and deep. “Such a good girl.”
Fuck, I wanted him. The way he could electrify my body with the look in his eye and the slick of his cock along my tongue blew me away, and I shimmied in the chair, revved. I tried to suck him farther in, but he wasn’t letting me have more than half his length, and I didn’t want to destroy the captivity he’d put me in. I whimpered when he pulled away.
Dean came around to face me, unflappable. “You know what I was thinking tonight?”
“That you love to torture me?”
“Yes. But also...” He dropped down to his knees, and I squirmed while he made himself comfortable. He peeled his shirt off and then sat there, his beautiful cock tucked out of view thanks to his crouch beyond my lap. “I was thinking how much I love having you here. Being able to play with you. Touch you.” He slipped his hands onto the skirt of my dress and clamped them tight around my thighs through the layers of fabric. The dress had been comfortable to wear all day, but at this point, it was sweaty, binding, tiresome. I wanted it off.
I wanted Dean touching my skin, but he was doing a fine job of driving me nuts.
“That’s what I want,” he continued. “You, however I want. Whenever I want.” He slid his hands up until he could grasp my hips, and as he dug his thumbs deep into the dress fabric to connect with my hip bones, I closed my eyes.
“Dean...”
“I want to taste you.”
“Yes. God, please.” I caught the flicker of his eyes as I opened mine, but he concentrated on what he was doing, his hands grasping the hem of my dress and gradually pushing the fabric up, up. There was too much of it between the chiffon and tulle underskirt, but he gathered it to run his fingers along the inside of my thighs in a deft tease. Dean kissed one knee while his hands ventured higher, inching beneath the mass of fabric to find the sides of my panties. When he swept his lips along the inside of my thigh, he hooked his fingertips under the waistband and tugged, encouraging me with a look to lift up my ass. He wrestled the panties off my pelvis and down my thighs, but he didn’t take them off. He stopped them above my knees and pushed my legs apart as far as the stretchy fabric would allow.
It wasn’t very far—a foot, at best, the elastic waistband digging into the outsides of my thighs when I stretched them out, inviting him nearer with a view of my cunt. Dean breathed me in, his eyes glassy but somewhat distant. He was still thinking, his jaw working while he trailed his fingers up and down my skin. I groaned and tilted back my head, pining for more. He pitched forward, his shift too slow, his fingers creeping the fabric up so he could dip his face beneath it while his heated breath blew over my skin.
The second the gust of hot air met the pool already wetting the apex of my thighs, I gasped. “Fuck.”
Dean angled his head to ease his tongue against me, the bulk of fabric tumbling over him and his chest pressing down on my panties, snugging them even tighter to my thighs in an accidental bind. The move made the sweep of his tongue hotter, more tantalizing. I tried to spread wider for him with no luck, and the trace of his tongue along my partially opened split became maddening and intense. Dean’s fingers followed up my legs, and he stroked them over my wet folds alongside his mouth before inserting one at the slowest pace he could with a flick of his tongue.
“Goddamn you,” I breathed.
“You’re so wet.” Dean’s murmur was gruff and low, muffled under the fabric that buried him between my thighs. The block of my view made every motion infinitely more mesmerizing. He circled my clit with a gentle touch, and I sighed—but then Dean pressed closer, smothering me with his mouth and sinking another finger forcefully inside. I rocked up to meet him, trying to open more, needing him. This. Pinned as I was, prickles of heat arced through my core in a burgeoning fire. The heat spread through my torso and into my arms, and I lifted onto my tiptoes though it did me no good. I was caught, his mouth firm on me, the tie somewhat holding me in place, the sensations whipping through me until I arched my pelvis up again.
“Dean, please.”
He pressed harder, his wet mouth swallowing me, his fingers driving up the intensity. I fought between tightening my thighs around his head and spreading them apart in a tense struggle against the bind of my panties. Dean kept thrusting, sucking, breaking to utter, “Want this, you, all the time.”
I was losing it when he nibbled my clit. I lurched in the chair, my body on edge and my fingers tingling. My face had already gone numb, my breathing crazed with this torturous game of his. Dean crowded the slim space between
my thighs with another finger, and I groaned at the heat of his mouth, because Jesus, I loved to be spread open, filled, tongued. The dress was a suffocating bind around me, my panties cutting into my skin as he sped the drive of his fingers. When he shifted his other hand to pull back the hood of my clit and tongued the sensitive bud beneath, I started to quiver. “Oh, fuck...fuck!”
Dean sent me into overload fast. I hunched my shoulders when I came, my hips arching up to meet his thrusts and my mind spinning out of control. The wave of pleasure crashed through me from head to toe. I cried out, but Dean kept licking and sucking, his fingers penetrating deep to feel me spasming inside. “Yes,” he groaned. The garble was overrun by my loud cries and the quick press of his mouth up against me.
Shaking, sweating, I fought to open my eyes, and he pulled back to draw his head out from under the dress. My chest heaved at the sight of him. His hair lay all over the place and an enormous smile covered his glistening lips. He struck me as far too giddy in the heat of the moment, and I tried to comprehend his expression while my body rumbled in an ecstatic shudder.
“Fuck the drawers,” Dean said.
“What?” I craned my head, confused. My pulse had almost dropped to a simmer, pins and needles lingering to shock my every cell.
“Fuck it.” Dean lifted onto his knees and cupped my cheeks, his own flushed with color. “Move in with me, Maya.”
I blinked. The words were crazy. Wonderful. Was he serious? My heart pounded, a blossom of excitement raging through me stronger than the orgasm that’d broken me apart.
Dean stared at me, his eyes sparkling. “What do you think? I know it’s far from your work, but we’d cut the driving back and forth—”
“Yes,” I breathed. Holy fuck, yes. There was no question. Dean’s grin somehow grew bigger, and he kissed me as he reached behind my back to untie my wrists. I’d scarcely registered his dexterous motions before my arms fell loose at my sides.
“Yeah?”
“Yes!”
The Reward Page 8
