She widened her stance, her heart beating erratically as Dean planted hot, open-mouthed kisses on her ass. Then his hands curled around her thighs, squeezing tight as he angled her into a position that gave him better access.
When his tongue dragged a sensual line along her slit, she moaned so loudly a flash of embarrassment struck. Anyone out on the neighboring balconies just got an earful. Maybe if she distracted him he’d stop tormenting her. “You said you desperately needed to be inside me.”
“I do.” His warm breath fanned over her folds. A second later, he speared her entrance with his tongue, and his immediate groan vibrated up her spine. “Your pussy tastes so sweet. So. Fucking. Sweet.”
Emma sagged forward as pleasure gathered in her core. Dean teased and licked her from behind, his nose tickling the crease of her ass as his tongue drove her to new levels of mind-blowing bliss. She was getting closer, then closer still, when he sucked on her clit hard enough to make her see stars.
Any moment. Any moment now…
Then the bastard pulled away, still clutching her naked hips. “Keep staring straight ahead,” he commanded, his voice low and seductive. “And keep those hands on the railing.”
An honest-to-God whimper flew out. God. What was wrong with her? She didn’t whimper. She didn’t beg. But her body hurt, damn it. The throb between her legs refused to ease. It only got worse as the heat of Dean’s mouth disappeared from her pussy. He stood up behind her, and she almost twisted her head to see what he was doing, until she remembered what he’d instructed.
So she focused straight ahead, seeing nothing. Not the gleaming windows of the other hotels to the side of hers. Not the faint twinkling of lights on the pier hundreds of feet below. Her entire being was fixated on Dean. The sound of his footsteps. The crinkling of a condom wrapper. The puff of his breath on her neck when he pressed up behind her.
“You want to come, baby?” Talented hands stroked a path down her bare back before cupping her ass.
“Yes,” she choked out.
“Then ask me nicely.” He kissed the side of her throat, his dark hair tickling her chin as his lips traveled over her aching flesh. “Ask me to make you come.”
Every touch, every word, was an unbearable tease. His erection was heavy against her lower back, and all it would take was one adjustment, one glide, and he could be buried inside her. But the damned bastard seemed determined to drag it out. To torture her.
“Make me come,” she whispered.
A not so gentle tug on her hair. “Louder. I didn’t hear you.”
She raised her voice, but the words still came out hoarse, strangled. Shaky with need. “Make me come, Dean. Please.”
His first stroke filled her to the hilt. Thoroughly. Completely. Her pussy stretched to accommodate him, clasping around his cock to keep him inside, but he didn’t seem interested in going anywhere. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply rotated his hips while lodged inside her, and the wave of pleasure that washed over her was enough to make her whimper again.
“I’m going to fuck you hard,” he whispered into her ear. “Hard and fast, and you’re going to feel me for days, Em.”
“Do it,” she pleaded.
He withdrew slowly, stopping when just his tip was pressed between her folds. “Only if you say it.”
Her brain had turned into a foggy ball of mush. “Say what?”
“That you missed me.”
He slid in another inch, and her inner muscles rippled wildly.
God. What was he doing? Why wasn’t he moving?
“Did you miss me, Emma?”
His voice turned gruff, and either she was imagining it, or there was actually a chord of vulnerability there. But she was too wound up to make sense of it right now. Her body was on fire, so close to self-combusting.
“Yes,” she blurted out. “I missed you.”
He plunged deep again, as if her declaration had unleashed something inside him. After that, neither of them was capable of speaking anymore. Dean’s low groans mingled with the desperate sounds coming out of her mouth, as he thrust into her over and over, each punishing stroke stealing another shard of her sanity.
He was rough and dominating and it was different, so different from how it used to be, and yet he made her entire body come alive. Desperation had taken over, an incessant need for release that had her bucking backward to meet his frantic thrusts.
Dean’s fingers tightened on her hips as his mouth latched on to her shoulder. The second his teeth sank into her flesh, the tension exploded and Emma soared. The balcony disappeared. The railing under her hands vanished. The world faded. All she registered was the blinding rush of pleasure racing through her body, and the husky sound Dean made as he thrust in one final time and shuddered behind her.
“Oh Jesus,” he ground out, his breath hot on her skin as he trembled from climax.