“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.
“Can you grab the peppermint extract off the shelf for me?” I ask, breaking into her trance. She gives her frosting one last glance before she grabs the bottle I’ve requested and places it next to my cutting board. “Thanks. How’s it looking?”
She begins to twirl a strand of her hair, a nervous habit I’ve picked up on today. “Umm, I don’t know. Like frosting? It might taste like ass, though.”
“Oooo, I love ass,” Joey rejoices as he carries in a gift bag. I blush instantly and he notices. “Hmm. Care to elaborate?”
“Nope,” I state firmly, shaking off my reaction to the word ass. Really, Dylan?
He places the bag in front of Brooke and she surveys it peculiarly. “Here. This is my thank you for the shirt you got me. Which I look amazing in, by the way.”
I roll my eyes at his astounding modesty.