“Did I sound uncertain?”
“No.”
“Then lie back.”
Dex stared at me, and I could see the exact moment he decided to let me have it.
He rolled onto his back.
The bed creaked under him. I pushed up on shaky knees and straddled his thighs, still half in my tank, bra shoved low, bare from the waist down. The arrangement was ridiculous.
Dex looked like he might die from it.
Good.
I slid down his body until I knelt between his legs. His hands fisted in the coverlet when I reached for his belt.
“Still trusting yourself?” I asked.
“Less than I was.”
“That sounded honest.”
“It was.”
The buckle opened. I pulled the leather free and dropped it beside his hip. His keys stayed in his front pocket. I knew exactly where they were. I would need them later.
Right now, I needed the man under me to stop looking controlled.
I opened his jeans. His cock pushed hard against the black fabric of his boxer briefs, thick and obvious, straining toward my hand. My mouth watered before I could make a joke about it.
Dex saw.
His jaw flexed.
I dragged the denim and briefs down enough to free him, and the first clear look at his cock made my breath catch.
He was big. Beautiful. Hard enough that pre-cum leaked from the tip and shone in the motel light.
I wrapped my hand around him.
Dex’s breath left him in one rough pull.
The sound satisfied something mean and hungry in me.
I stroked once, slow from base to tip, and his hips lifted a fraction. Not much. Just enough to prove I had him too.
“Careful,” he said.
“You keep saying that.”
“You keep ignoring it.”
“Maybe you should stop giving warnings you don’t want me to obey.”
His laugh came out wrecked. “You’re going to ruin me.”
“Only a little.”
