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“Ugh. I smell like Pretty Girl,” I say.
Dusty frowns, before it hits him what I’m talking about. “I’ve never seen East share how freely he loves anything the way he does that dog. Well, except…”
“Except Ella. You can say it.”
“Except Ella,” he says, then swats my ass. “Go shower. Then we’ll get to that fucking you were talking about. I can’t wait to have you in my bed every night.” His hand goes to my hip, pushing up under my shirt and tickling the skin there.
“I can’t wait either. You got stuff for me?”
“Anything you might need is under the sink. I plan to fuck you pretty thoroughly, so be ready.”
“Christ, Dust. I can’t believe this bossy sex god has been hiding inside you.”
He winks. “Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
There’s not a part of me that doubts him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Dusty
I’m trying not to let my conversation with Rhett bring down my night with Morgan. I like being the person he comes to when he needs someone. That’s one of the things I’ve wondered about the most the last ten years. Morgan doesn’t let people in, so who did he go to? Who was there for him when he needed someone? Apparently, no one.
But now he has me again, and there’s nothing I want more than to be that person for him.
My gaze finds the remaining bag in the living room. I probably shouldn’t be happy that he’s moving in with me. A better man might be thinking about how improving his relationship with his dad is the most important thing, but I’m selfish when it comes to Morgan. Knowing he will be in my bed every night is more than I could have hoped for.
I stall for a little while, giving him time, then lock up the house, turn off the lights, grab his bag, and go to my room. It’s early, but I doubt we’ll make it out of bed after I fuck him—and I need to fuck him, need to lose myself in his body over and over until I hammer into my brain that he really is mine.
I smile at the sound of the shower as I set his suitcase by the closet door. I’ve already showered, so I strip out of my clothes, leave only the nightstand light on, and get into bed.
Morgan left the door open, and I can see him standing naked under the spray. Blood heads toward my groin, dick beginning to plump as I give it a slow, easy stroke. He’s so fucking beautiful—all that golden skin, dark hair, muscles, and that dark fur on his chest and legs. My head spins just looking at him, heart thumping too hard and body already on the verge of losing control. I don’t know why my reaction to Morgan is this strong, why he’s such a part of me, living in every corner of my soul, but he does, and I don’t ever want to evict him.
Morgan ducks his head under the water again, then looks at me, smiling at me through the glass. He turns off the water, gets out, and grabs a towel. My hand continues to move up and down my shaft, the two of us watching each other while he dries off.
He rubs the towel between his legs, and his dick, which was hanging soft above his balls, is beginning to plump up. He dries his back, his ass, then down his legs.
“You’re taking too long,” I tell him.
“I don’t want to get your bed wet.”
“Our bed, and I don’t give a fuck about that. Come here, Morgan. I need you.” And I do need him. Still, there’s the quiet voice in my head telling me that as much as I know he’s it for me, that I want to do whatever it takes to have him, we’re making a whole lot of plans really fucking quickly. Coupled with knowing I need to tell my parents I’ll be leaving and what’s happened with Rhett, and my head is a bit of a mess.
Morgan drops the towel and comes my way. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Dust.” He rubs his hand through the hair on my chest, plucks one of my nipples. “I remember when we were kids and I used to watch you. I was fucking mesmerized by you, like you had the ability to bottle up the sun and carry it around with you. Everything was brighter when you were there. I don’t think I’d have made it through my childhood without you.”
My heart stumbles. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to hearing things like that from him. “I love you too,” is how I answer because those first three words are embedded into what he just said to me.
Wrapping my hand around his wrist, I tug him over. Morgan comes easily, resting on my hips. That’s not where I want him, though, so I motion for him to lift up some. When he does, I scoot down the bed.
“Up here, baby. Straddle my head. I want to spend some time with my face in your ass, want your balls on my tongue.”
“That is so fucking hot.” Morgan turns around so he faces my dick, then knee-walks until he’s in position. He smells like clean water and soap, but the scent of his skin and arousal clings to him too.
“Put your balls over my mouth first.”
He does as I say, and I kiss his heavy, full sac, lick it, suck one globe into my mouth and smile around his nuts when he hisses in pleasure.
I bathe his balls with my tongue, part of me wishing he hadn’t taken a shower first so I had only the taste of Morgan filling my senses. He moves his hips forward and back, making his sac rub all over my face, mouth, and lips. It’s one of the hottest moments of my life, feeling him mark me like this, grinding himself all over me.
