His eyes flash with a new desire. Maybe he wasn’t expecting me to beg for this. Maybe he just assumed I’d go with it and then hopefully enjoy myself. But here I am, begging because I need to have him in this way.
He slides his fingers out and grips the base of his cock. “Hold your knees back for me.” I do as requested as he positions himself. His eyes trail up my body, landing on mine. “You want this. You just begged for it. Focus on that.” He presses against my opening, meeting the tight ring of muscle, and I suddenly feel like my insides are burning up. “This is the uncomfortable part.”
“No shit,” I respond, letting go of my legs and clawing the comforter at my sides. I can’t relax.
I’m no longer finding the urge to beg.
This fucking sucks.
“Dylan, you need to push against me.”
“What?”
He grips my hips, steadying himself. “Push against me. Like you don’t want me in.”
Well, that’s not hard to imagine.
I swallow loudly, trying to loosen up. “Okay, okay. Just… fucking hell, just wait a second.”
He muffles a laugh above me but I don’t respond to it the way I normally would, by telling him to fuck off unless he wants to switch positions. Instead, I do as he asks and push, feeling him slip further in. Inch by inch. I watch as his face contorts into one of immense pleasure, and that drives me. To want it more. To pull my knees back so my thighs are against my chest, opening up to him.
“Fuck, yes.” He growls, deep and guttural as he slides in to the hilt. “Christ, you’re so fucking perfect.”
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to feel, but it wasn’t this. A wave of heat washes over me at the sensation of him all the way in me. “Oh, my… Godddd.”
And then he starts to move in and out as he works my clit with his thumb. I keep my eyes on him even though the intensity of the pleasure I’m feeling is urging me to close them. It’s too much. I need to take away some of this stimulation before I break so I close them, but it’s brief.
“Dylan, look at me.” I do, and he takes over holding my legs back as he thrusts into me. “Feel it. Feel how I make every part of you feel good. You want this. You want me here.”
“Yes,” I answer, but it comes out as a plea. To keep fucking me. To never stop. To love every part of me, because that’s what he’s doing.
His breath comes out uneven, ragged. He’s gasping above me, struggling to not lose control yet. And seeing him like that gets me right there with him.
“Reese.”
“Fuck, I can’t… Dylan, I can’t stop.”
“Don’t stop. I’m so close.”
His movements become urgent, slamming into me with a crucial force. Pushing me up over the edge. And he’s right there with me.
“Coming,” I barely choke out as my orgasm moves through me like a tidal wave. I need to see him. I need to watch him lose it even though my eyes are straining to remain open while I ride this out.
“Holy fuck. Oh, my God, Dylan. Fuuckkk!”
He keeps his eyes on me, giving me the satisfaction of seeing him unravel. And it’s unlike anything he’s ever done. He’s wild. Screaming out my name between moans. Throwing his head back and flexing every muscle in his upper body. He gives me everything in a way I’ve never seen. It’s chaotic almost, the way he lets go, but it’s beautiful.
When his orgasm subsides, he drops my legs and pulls out of me. Arms wrap around me as he sits back and pulls me against his chest, burying his head between my breasts. I feel him tremble against me and thread my fingers through his hair.
“Thank you, love. Thank you for giving me that.”
Dropping my head, I press kisses into his hair. “See, that wasn’t so bad. I told you you’d like it,” I tease.
He lifts his eyes to me, stunning me with that sweet face. “I love you.”
“Love you, too.” I brush my nose against his. “Now what? Should we box up more of my stuff? I feel like we still have a lot to do.”
He cocks an eyebrow, looking around the room. “Anal sex and getting you ready to move in with me permanently? Fuck yes. That’s my kind of Thursday night.”
I throw my head back, falling into a laughing fit as his arms tighten around me, pinning our bodies together.
Close, but never close enough.
I’m getting married tomorrow.
I’m finally becoming Dylan Carroll.
Holy shit.
Okay. Focus, Dylan.
I’m chopping up the bars of semisweet chocolate I’ll need for my wedding cake frosting while Brooke watches the mixer with keen interest. She completely lost her shit this morning when I told her she would be in charge of making the caramel buttercream frosting for the other wedding cake. I’ve been right beside her, supervising everything, but this really is her baby and she’s studying it with a mix of pride and restlessness.