He drops my shoe onto the floor and arches his brow at me. “Is that right?”
“Yes,” I state with a clipped tone. My other shoe gets tossed over his shoulder, but I don’t care where because all my attention is drawn down to his hands as he works his cock free and begins stroking it. I gasp and reach out for it, my mouth watering at the sight. “Oh, my God. Let me do that.”
“No.” He lets his khakis slide down to mid-thigh as he stares at my body, his hand working his glorious cock. I’ve never seen Reese jerk off before, and I’m kicking myself for never requesting that he do it in front of me. This is insanely hot, probably one of the hottest things to witness. His upper body is flexed completely, every muscle bulging out at me, screaming for my hands. And then there’s his cock.
That. Cock.
So desperately hard and making my * ache with a stark need, because it belongs there. He strokes it leisurely, letting this moment last as his breathing becomes irregular. Sweet Jesus. I begin to pant right along with him.
I sit up, putting my face at the perfect height. “Fuck my mouth.”
He pushes me back down and continues pulling his cock. “No.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you get off on that. And I told you, you’re not coming tonight.”
Goddamn it. Why do I have to enjoy sucking him off so much?
Because it’s awesome.
I grunt my irritation, slipping a hand between my legs. He grabs my wrist with his free hand and pins it against my body, angling himself over me. “I told you no,” he grates out through clenched teeth, his lips curling back and revealing them to me. “You knew I wouldn’t approve of that dress, so why did you wear it?”
My eyes stay glued to the hand around his cock, ignoring everything else around me. I see the veins in his arms jut out as he gives me the biggest tease of my life.
“Dylan.”
“Huh?” I croak, reaching up and placing my hand to my chest. It’s heaving, forcefully pushing against my palm. He slows his stroking, prompting me to look into his eyes. “I wanted you to rip it.”
His eyes widen, sparkling with curiosity.
I swallow the uncomfortable lump that’s lodged itself in my throat before explaining myself. “I… I think it’s really hot when you get all crazy over what I wear. You like showing me who has control, but I see you struggling with it when you see me in outfits like that. I like knowing I can do that to you. You’re not easily unraveled.”
He releases my wrist and grips my hip, digging into my skin as he slides me closer to him. He’s hovering above me, close enough to touch, but he won’t let me. His face relaxes slightly. “Your body belongs to me. When you wear shit like that and I’m not around, other men think they have a shot at what’s mine. They don’t. And I’m half-tempted to go to that club and kill every motherfucker in there who looked at you.”
I place my hand on his chest, lightly applying pressure. “Hey. It was just a stupid dress. Are you going to act like this on Saturday and go on a killing spree at the Whitmore? The bride gets a lot of attention on her big day.”
One eyebrow raises. “Are you planning on wearing something like that?” I smile sweetly and shake my head, my eyes dropping to watch him return to his task. “You want to see me lose control?”
“Yes,” I answer breathlessly.
His eyes roll closed and he starts stroking faster, gripping tighter, breathing heavier. I can only lie back and watch, completely fascinated and way the hell turned on. “Fuck,” he pants, eyes flashing open. “You unravel me every second, love. Every time I look at you.” He groans loudly, finding his release and shooting it onto my stomach. His nostrils flare as his eyes slowly reach my face. “My eyes only. Remember that.”