It took a while for Emma to recover, for her heartbeat to regulate and her pussy to stop spasming. She’d had orgasms before. Hell, she’d had orgasms with Dean before.
But this…it hadn’t been an orgasm so much as a full-body experience. Forget seeing stars, there were entire universes swirling in front of her eyes, and if that hadn’t been the equivalent of a Big Bang, she didn’t know what was.
“That was…” She struggled for words. For breath. “Wow. Like the best booty call ever.”
He stiffened, but when she turned around to see what was wrong, he was casually removing the condom, his expression unruffled. “Not bad,” he agreed.
She narrowed her eyes. “Not bad? Are you saying you didn’t enjoy it?”
“Oh, I enjoyed it.” He cocked a brow, a small grin playing on his lips. “But you do realize that was to take the edge off, right?”
She faltered. “Meaning…?”
“I mean the night isn’t over. In fact, I think it’s time to move this show into the bedroom.” Impossibly his grin turned even more sexy and beguiling. “You don’t have plans for the rest of the evening, do you? Because we’re just getting started.”
Emma checked his face, attempting to gauge if he was serious, but it wasn’t his eyes that revealed the sincerity of his intentions. Far more potent was the quickly hardening cock that jutted from his groin as if trying to wave hello and say you’re going to come ten more times tonight, Emma.
She really should tell him it was time to go. The sketchpads waited for her doodles to become more than halfhearted lines on the page. Her walking disaster of a partner would be up and wreaking havoc on the East Coast in less than twelve hours—so many reasons she should show him the door.
But that look in his eyes? So alive? So…Dean.
Turning him away was impossible when everything in her screamed for him to stay.
He should be sore by now. He should be ready to pass out and cry for mercy, but even hours later it didn’t matter how hard he’d just come.
Within moments he was raring to go again.
All it took was seeing Emma’s skin flushed with pleasure. Hearing her utter one more contented sigh, and ping, instant cockcrow. Every damn thing was awake, including his cock.
But Dean was no fool. When Emma thought back to this night, it wasn’t just the incredible sex he wanted her to remember, so in spite of wanting her—craving her on an intensely primal level—he had other tools in his arsenal he needed to employ.
Although it was hard to move past the fucking around to the rest of his agenda. They’d had bedroom sex. He’d taken her into the bathroom to wash up and that had turned into shower sex. And when they returned to the bedroom again so he could dry her off, somehow that had turned into another wild romp, Emma riding him like a pony.
Yee-fucking-haw.
Emma dropped to the mattress, panting hard. “You’ve killed me.”
“You speak real good for a dead person,” he teased, his chest moving just as rapidly as he caught his breath. “Hmmm, you can lap dance me anytime, baby.”
Her cheeks reddened, her lashes fluttering for a moment. “That wasn’t a lap dance.”
“You’re right, it was better,” he agreed. “You, naked and sliding up and down my cock? Far, far better than someone else shaking their ass in my face.”
He’d taken Jack’s advice to heart, refusing to tone down the dirty talk that he loved. And damned if his friend hadn’t been right. Every time he turned up the heat, Emma seemed to bloom brighter.
He rolled to his knees, letting his contentment show as he reached for the backpack he’d quietly deposited beside the door when he’d snuck in hours earlier. He pulled out a pair of sweatpants and slipped them on. “I’m starving. Can I get you something?”
Before she could protest, he bounded out of bed and headed to the kitchen, the backpack slung over his shoulder as he put Stage II of his evening plans into play.
By the time Emma joined him he had the kettle boiling and the scent of popcorn filled the air.
She leaned her elbows on the counter between the living space and the kitchen, her oversized yoga shirt once again slipping off her shoulder. “What’re you doing?”
He pulled two wine glasses and two teacups from the cupboard. “Making a snack. I noticed you had some movies. I thought we could cuddle up and have a drink.”
Her gaze drifted over him, unreadable.
“I’ll let you steal popcorn from my bowl. Maybe.” Dean ignored the rest of her unspoken questions and removed more treats from his backpack. “Tea or wine?”
She glanced at the clock on the wall, then seemed to give up, turning back with a smile. “Tea, please.”
“You want to finish making us drinks while I get the movie going?”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Of course. I would never dream of coming between a man and his remote control.”
Dean grinned. “Smart woman.”