Page 51 of The Heartbreaker Next Door

He didn’t stop. He worked me with devastating patience, tongue and touch in perfect tandem, one finger sliding inside me at just the right angle, curling to find a spot I hadn’t known existed. Every time I said his name, he answered by sucking hard on my clit, then softening, bringing me back from the brink, over and over, until I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think. I wanted to tell him to finish me, to let me have it, but the words wouldn’t form. All I could do was writhe and beg with my body, and Dean seemed to understand exactly what I needed.

He added a second finger, stretching me with slow, careful pressure, and the sudden fullness made me lightheaded. He lapped at me like he wanted to swallow every last drop, groaning every time his tongue met my skin. With his free hand, he gripped my hip harder, holding me down, holding me together. I’d never felt so vulnerable, so exposed, and at the same time so safe. Like if the world caved in on us right now, Dean would hold it back for me with nothing but his bare hands.

Each pass of his tongue sent white-hot sparks through my body, building an impossible tension in my stomach. When he sensed my frustration, he changed his angle, flicking his tongue with perfect, ruthless precision, his fingers stroking inside me in time with my heartbeat. I felt myself climbing, higher and higher, the pressure mounting until it was all I could feel—no past, no future, just the need for release.

He sucked my clit into his mouth, hard, and curled his fingers inside me at the same time. I lost myself as I called out his name. There was no point pretending otherwise. I’d never been that loud with anyone, never let myself go that completely, but Dean didn’t seem to mind. He wanted it. He needed it. He held me down with the weight of his body, devouring me, refusing to stop until he’d wrung every last shuddering aftershock from me.

Finally, I shattered, fireworks behind my eyelids, pleasure infusing every single inch of my body, tingling waves of orgasm carrying me out to total bliss, noises escaping my throat I didn’t recognize as my own.

When I finally came back to myself, Dean was there, bracing himself above me, face flushed, hair mussed, waiting for me to breathe again. His hand smoothed the hair back from my forehead, gentle and patient, like he was willing to wait all night if that’s what it took.

But I didn’t want him to wait. I wanted more. I wanted all of it, all of him, right now.

17

RIP REASONS AND RULES

Dean

Everything about Felicity was a problem I hadn’t planned for.

I’d told myself I was going to slow things down—be smart about this, be careful—but somewhere between her smiling at my terrible joke and currently trembling beneath me in the blue dark of my warehouse, that plan had quietly packed its bags and left without saying goodbye.

She dug her nails into my arms, and I nearly lost my mind entirely.

This is such a bad idea, some distant, responsible part of my brain offered helpfully.

I nipped at her shoulder, then licked the spot like an apology, and she whimpered like she couldn’t quite believe she was here, that she was letting this happen, that she actually wanted it.

The sound shot straight through me.

Here was the thing nobody knew about Felicity Foster, she looked like the kind of woman who followed the rules. Sensible shoes. Color-coded planner. The whole thing.

But underneath all that careful, organized composure was something that ran hot and electric, and now I’d touched it, tasted it, I already knew with absolute, gut-level certainty that I was in serious, catastrophic, completely unavoidable trouble.

I kissed her anyway.

I crawled up her body, charting a path with my mouth, the softest part of her hip, the dip of her belly, the bottom slope of each perfect breast. She shocked me every time she trembled, every time she gasped and dug her nails into my arms. I wanted to see how far I could push her, how much she would surrender.

I braced myself on my forearm, careful not to crush her, but she pulled me closer anyway, as if she was afraid I’d evaporate if she didn’t hold tight enough. She looped her arms around my neck, tugged my hair, and when I finally claimed her mouth, she was insistent, her whole self poured into the kiss. She was trying to tell me something, I realized, something that couldn’t be said in plain English, so I tried to listen with my hands, with my lips, with every shuddering inhale I stole from her.

The next thing I knew, her fingers were at my belt. She fumbled at the buckle, cursing softly, and I reached down to help. She let out a ragged exhale as I pushed down my jeans and boxer-briefs, kicking first my shoes off and then my pants. They had barely cleared my feet, and she immediately reached for me. Her hand was small and strong and sure, and the feel of her slender fingers wrapped around my cock nearly did me in. I could see it in her eyes—triumph, challenge, and something raw and scared underneath.

She stroked me slowly while I kissed her neck, her collarbone, the delicate line of her jaw. I wanted to take my time, commit every detail of her to memory, but the need pulsing in my core was hot and frantic. She pressed her heels into the back of my thighs, urging me closer as she continued to stroke me, and I was completely lost, ready to give her anything she asked for. I’d never felt this alive, this reckless, this clearheaded in my purpose.

She lined me up to her slick slit, and I almost lost it, but just as I pressed the blunt head of my cock against her, a cold, rational voice cut through the haze. I froze.

“Wait—” I rasped, my voice so rough it barely sounded like mine. “Protection. I don’t have⁠—”

Felicity’s eyes flew open, wild with want and just a little horror, like she couldn’t believe she’d forgotten either. “I’m on birth control,” she breathed, looking simultaneously embarrassed and grateful. “And I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone in two years and I’ve had several checkups since then.”

“Me too. I mean, I’m clean.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this nervous, but it was the good kind, the kind that made my chest ache for her. “But we don’t have to do anything, we can wait.”

She let out a shaky laugh, relief and desire tangled together. “I don’t want you to stop.”

I nodded, and she tried to line us up, but this time I caught her hand in mine and moved it up, pinning it gently above her head. I did the same with her other arm, trapping both wrists in my hand. She wriggled a little, testing the hold, and her smile grew feral.

“Is that okay?” I asked, wanting to make sure I wasn’t doing anything that made her feel uncomfortable.