Page 43 of Parentmoon

“But . . .” he drawls. “I still want to touch you all over.”

I giggle then hiccup. Dallas laughs and pulls me upright from the couch, leading me upstairs. We fall to the bed next, hands roaming everywhere. I’m nipping at his skin, kissing his neck and jaw. He’s massaging my breasts, plucking at my peaked nipples through my dress. Within seconds, I’m pushing him to his back and untying the belt at my waist to give him better access to me.

“Pink. Attitude.”

I stare down at the fuchsia wrap dress and then climb over him.

“My baby needs something, doesn’t she? Feels like earlier was a little disappointing to you and I don’t ever want to disappoint.”

“Disappointing?” I question as he rolls me to my back and rubs a hand down the center of my body, pressing my dress open to expose my bra and underwear.

“The counter sex. I rushed.”

“I wasn’t disappointed.” We did rush and I was a little breathless by it all, but I wasn’t upset over it. “I can take care of myself, if I ever am.”

Dallas has been squeezing my breast over my bra but his hand stills. “Don’t want you ever pleasing yourself because I didn’t please you.” His mouth covers mine again while he presses at my dress, shoving it off my shoulders. Then my bra is unclasped and as I sit up to remove it, Dallas pulls down my underwear. He lowers to his side next to me and draws a finger down my sternum and between my breasts.

“But . . .” he drawls again. “Seeing as I don’t want to mess up by drunk-fucking you, I’d like to see you please yourself.”

“What?” I swallow, trying to focus on him.

“Let me watch you.”

I shake my head so hard, my brain rattles. “I can’t do that.”

Dallas covers my hand and slowly drags it toward my center which is warm and wet, and wanting him to touch me.

“Let me see,” he whispers, encouraging me as he guides my fingers to my clit. I close my eyes. I can’t watch him watching me. He removes his hand and leans forward to take one of my breasts in his mouth, swirling his tongue over the hard nip. My fingers move of their own accord. I’m too turned on to stop although I wish he’d touch me.

I also respect why he said he wouldn’t.

Dallas pops off my breast and stares between my legs. As I’m circling the sensitive nub, he scoots to the end of the bed, removes his clothes and then tugs my ankles apart. He crawls between my legs, bending my knees and pausing on his own, kneeling between my thighs. His eyes never leave my hand on my center.

“Fuck.” Dallas grasps himself and the steady sound of skin working skin filters around us.

I lift my head to watch him tugging at his hard length.

“Gonna make me blow, darlin’.” His words are strained. His breathing heavy.

Stroking myself, I rock into my own touch while watching him jerk himself. Our position feels almost more intimate than sex. He’s watching where my fingers glide through sensitive folds. I’m watching him rub his steely length. Everything about this feels erotic and scandalous and heavenly all tumbling together.

Dallas leans forward, bracing himself by his arm near my hip. He’s moving his other arm faster, and I match his speed, falling into a fantasy of him and me, and days and nights filled with these sensual extremes. Then I’m breaking into tiny pieces, and Dallas mutters dirty words that coat me in sin and pleasure. He falls apart, spilling onto my lower belly and I watch as he marks me in a new way.

Our position is decadent while naughty, and I can’t believe I’ve just done what I’ve done.

Dallas Cole brings something reckless out of me.

I only worry he’ll wreck me in the end.

Chapter 11

The next morning, I wake to an empty bed although Dallas had curled around me most of the night.

Did we really do what we did? Did I let him watch me touch myself? Did I watch him?

Heat rises along my neck, and I toss the bedcovers off me and slip from the bed.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs, Dallas is seated on the couch, hunched forward and tapping away at his laptop.