I can’t seem to accept that it’s actually happening. It feels like I’m dreaming, and at any moment, I’ll wake up, and I’ll be sweaty and alone in bed.
No, he’s here. I can feel him so deep inside me.
I moan, gripping his triceps so hard that I’m afraid my nails will dig into his skin and draw blood. He’s thrusting into me. I’m completely at his mercy. I want to cry and come and never wake up from this dream.
“Stay with me. Look at me.” He’s gripping my hair so tight that it hurts.
I look up into his amber eyes, always so intense and calculating, but openly vulnerable in this moment with me. It’s like I’m seeing the real Dayton for the first time ever.
And he’sobsessedwith me.
Another orgasm is building in my core. I clench my thighs around his hips, wrapping my legs all the way around him. He reaches down and brushes his thumb against my overlysensitive clit.
I want him to keep going all night, but this is only the first time. It doesn’t have to be our last.
It can’t be.
I lean up, kissing his mouth. He bites my bottom lip, one of his forearms still braced around my head as his hips thrust harder and faster. I’m getting closer. I’m surprised I’m actually going to come twice in one night. I never have before.
“Dayton,” I moan softly as the orgasm ripples over my skin in heat and sparks.
My muscles tense, pleasure filling up as I scream into the night.
His name on my lips seems to send him over the edge because he suddenly jerks out of me, his fingers tightening in my hair as he comes on my stomach. He jerks on top of me before slowly lifting his weight and staring down at my body. He seems to stare at the semen on my stomach for a very long time before dragging himself off the bed and going into the bathroom.
I wait, hoping he hasn’t suddenly morphed back into douchebag Dayton and abandoned me like this.
Don’t be silly.
But that nagging little fear is still in the back of my mind. Mind-blowing orgasms and hot sex don’t make someone treat you better—that Iknow.
A few seconds later, he returns with a damp washcloth and slowly—very slowly—cleans off my stomach. He wipes between my legs and kisses the top of both my thighs before returning to the bathroom.
Okay …
I get up, needing to pee. I’m still a little buzzed on both champagne and postcoital bliss, so my mind hasn’t started running through possible nightmare scenarios, but at any time that could change.
I grab a big T-shirt from my dresser and slip it over my head before finding a pair of boy shorts to put on. Dayton emerges from the bathroom. I slide in after he leaves to pee and wash the makeup off my face.
When I return to the studio, he’s lying in bed with the lamp on, waiting for me. I notice a fresh glass of ice water on my nightstand. He watches me walk over to the door and find it already locked.
I make my way back over to the bed and slip under the covers, settling in just close enough to him to not be touching. I grab the glass of water and take a sip of the cool liquid.
I turn to see that he’s looking at the necklace I’m still wearing.
“Thank you for this. It’s … I’ve never loved anything more.” I brush my fingers over the pearls.
He nods. “You’re welcome. It looks good on you. Are you okay?”
I nod. “More than okay.”
He sighs, eyes dragging over me before he nods. “Good.”
He reaches over and turns off the light before his hand dips under the sheets and wraps around my hip. He tugs me into his chest.
“Night, Cupcake.”
“Night.”
