"Bastard," I murmur.
"Sexy bastard to you," he counters, and I laugh despite him tormenting me.
Slowly, he tugs my legs apart, then cups my pussy, the pressure and the sensation of skin against skin making me even more crazed.
"One day," he says, "I'm going to fill you. I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't know if you want me to stop or to continue."
"Continue," I say as he thrusts three fingers inside, making me gasp. And then he pumps into me, hard and deep. I pound against him, fucking his hand shamelessly. And, yes, I want more. But this feels good. So damn good.
"Your mouth, your pussy, your ass. Every way I can be inside you, baby, I will be. Deep and hot and hard."
"Dallas. Oh, god, Dallas." He keeps his fingers inside me, thrusting hard, then lowers his mouth and sucks on my clit as waves of p
leasure break over me, precursors to an explosive orgasm.
But it's when he lifts my rear and slides a finger into my ass that I really lose my mind. I want to writhe, but I can't. He's wholly in command of me. He owns me, and I am a slave to his touch, his tongue.
More and more, he teases, taking me close and pulling me back. Exhausting me. Thrilling me. I am screaming. Begging. I've never been particularly noisy in bed, but I am now. I want. I need. And I can't hold any of it inside.
And when my release finally comes, I arch up off the bed with such wild, wonderful violence I think that I might just reach the ceiling. When I'm spent and limp on the bed, he bends over and kisses me gently between my breasts. "I think someone liked that."
"Someone definitely did." I push myself up, then stroke the line of hair that arrows down his lower abs toward his cock. "And now I think it's your turn."
He's wonderfully hard, and I close my hand around his cock, then ease up onto my knees to be closer to where he's standing by the side of the bed. I stroke him, enjoying the velvety smoothness, and thinking that I just might want to taste him, too, when his hand closes over mine.
I look up and see that his green eyes are dark.
"What is it?"
"I can't come like that. Not from someone else stroking me, going down on me."
"Oh." I hadn't realized that, and for a moment I'm flummoxed. Then I shrug a little, and lie back on the bed, propped up on my elbows as I face him. "That's okay," I say. "I'll just stay right here and enjoy the view." I know, after all, that he's more than capable of jacking himself off, and I slide my own fingers between my legs in memory of that truly excellent moment on the beach.
"No," he says. "Come here. Behind me."
He sits on the edge of the bed, and I do as he says, my legs spread wide around him so that my thighs are against his hips, and my pussy is against his rear. "Give me your hand," he orders, and when I comply, he curls my fingers over his cock.
"But you said--"
"I said to give me your hand..." He trails off as he closes his hand over mine, and then he guides the action. My palm, but his motions, and it is crazy insane, this feeling of being there for him, for each other.
He grows stiffer under my hand. His cock twitches. His whole body contracts, and I can feel all of it because I'm pressed against him, legs to legs, back to chest. It's as intimate as intercourse, and I am wildly aroused. So much so that I feel his orgasm coming, and when he explodes, I cry out with him, and I swear that I have never felt more close to him than I do in that one, intimate moment.
His release seems to go on forever, and his body shudders in my arms, the pressure of his ass against my still-sensitive clit sending me over the edge again. I cling to him, our bodies shattering together, and then we collapse back on the bed.
"Wow," I say as I move to straddle him while he rolls onto his back. He holds me close, and I nuzzle against him, loving this feeling of skin against skin. "Wow," I say again, then relish the rumble of his laughter through me.
"Look at me," he says, when our laughter has faded. "I love you."
"I love you, too," I say. "So much." I shift so that I can stroke his face, his hair. "No more secrets," I say. "Not between us. Not again. Not ever."
"No more secrets," he agrees. And as he lifts his head and captures me in the kind of kiss that claims my heart and my soul, I think that we have finally crossed a line. That we're going to be okay.
We're in love. We're moving forward.
And, somehow, someway, we're going to make this work.
The vibration of his phone woke Dallas and he reached down to the floor, fumbling for it from the pocket of his slacks. Groggy, he squinted at the screen, saw that it was Liam, and took the call. "What?"