He’s quiet, too quiet as he walks into his condo and places my bag on the floor next to the couch. He hasn’t said two words to me since we left the bakery and it’s making my skin crawl. I plop down onto the couch and kick my shoes off, bringing my feet underneath my body as I hear him banging around in the kitchen.
“Here.” He hands me a bottled water and I take it, seeing him walk around the couch and sit on the far end, way the hell away from me. He begins flipping through the channels and stops on some basketball game that I couldn’t care less about. What the fuck is this? He comes to my rescue, and I know damn well I heard him call me love, which means he can’t hate me, asks me, no, tells me I’m coming to spend the night with him, and now he’s barely acknowledging that I’m even here. I turn my head and stare at him and his perfect profile as it remains impassive but interested in the game he’s watching. He’s in running shorts and a navy blue T-shirt that has some emblem on the front that I can’t make out. Several long minutes go by as his eyes remain on the television, not once flicking toward me. Jesus, is this how it’s going to be all night? Fine then. If I’m sleeping over, I’m at least going to get comfortable. I stand up and quickly shimmy out of my jeans, tossing them on top of my duffle and reach up and slip my T-shirt off. Turning around so I know he can see me, I drop it on the couch and remove my bra. I make quick eye contact with him as I slip my bra down my arms, his eyes lingering briefly, really fucking briefly on my chest before flicking back toward the game. I grunt and grab his T-shirt and slip it back on before I snatch the remote out of his hands and turn the television off.
“What the fuck?”
“What the fuck is right. What’s wrong with you? You’re acting weird.”
He reaches forward and plucks the remote out of my hand, turning the game back on. “How am I supposed to be acting?” His eyes go back to the game and I no longer want to be here. Picking up my duffle, I quickly put my pants back on and throw my bra inside as I slip on my shoes and turn toward the door. “Where the hell are you going?”
“Like you give a shit. Thanks for making sure I didn’t get murdered.” I’m almost out the door when his arms grab my waist and pull me back inside, locking the door behind us.
“You’re not going anywhere.” I’m picked up, carried in his usual caveman style manner and taken back over toward the couch. My duffle is dropped by the edge and I’m dropped on the cushion.
“You don’t want me here, obviously, so why should I stay?” I yell up into his stare. His hands come around me, bracing himself on the cushion behind me and bringing his face inches from mine.
“What the fuck makes you think I don’t want you here? I always want you here.”
“You haven’t called or texted me since Friday afternoon, I get topless in front of you and you barely react, and you’re not looking at me the way you look at me. You don’t even want me anymore. You just want your stupid game.” Tears fill my eyes and I’m not sure if it’s from the night I’ve endured or the Reese style rejection that’s knocking the wind out of me. His hand drops and grabs mine, forcing it against the massive bulge in his pants that I hadn’t noticed. Oh, wow.
His face inches closer. “I always want you.” And then it happens. His mouth, his hands, his everything is on me in seconds, ripping my remaining clothes off as I frantically try and keep up with the removal of his.
“Tell me you still want me,” he grunts as he flips me onto my hands and knees and positions himself behind me. Before I can answer the obvious response, he rams into me and I cry out at the force.
“REESE.” I grip the leather with my fingers, scratching into it with my nails as he pounds hard, then harder, into me.
“Answer me, Dylan,” he grunts and I yell out between cries.
“Yes. Yes, I’ll always want you.” He’s fucking me harder than he ever has and I know it’s because I challenged him and he’s proving himself to me. That or he’s making damn sure I don’t question it again. Either way, I’m letting him handle it. His hands grip my hips, pulling me back to meet him, and if I wasn’t so turned on, so hot for him all the time, I might not be able to handle his power. I’m moaning, crying out with each thrust and he’s right there with me. “Oh, God. Harder.”
“Shit. You want harder?” His thighs crash against mine and my elbows give out. “This hard enough for you, love?”
“Yes!” I scream, needing him to give me this right now. I push back against him and feel his one hand grip my shoulder while the other digs into my hip the way I like.
He groans loudly, his sounds filling the condo. “You drive me fucking crazy. Fuck, Dylan.”
“Touch me.” His hand wraps around my stomach and drops between my legs. I whimper as his fingers rub my clit while his other hand grips harder on my shoulder. He’s so forceful that he’s knocking the air out of my lungs. “I’m gonna come.” I manage to get out through a faint breath.
“Not yet. Wait for me.”