Page 47

He doesn't. Not right away. He watches me as my composure slowly unravels bit by bit with every second of silence that passes. I've never been good with silence on the outside when everything on the inside is so loud. My lips part to let out only God knows what when he finally speaks.

“What was it?”

“What?”

“Eighteen-year-old Emery's fantasy. What was it?”

A sharp, high-pitched laugh shoots out of me. “Whatever way your dick and my dick touched was the fantasy. Did it involve your mouth? My ass? My mouth and your ass? Dick in mouth? Hand and ass? Flip it around and reverse it. All the things.”

“You're rambling, baby.”

“I know. Please make me shut up.”

I'll never, ever admit to this. Never, under any circumstances. But the thing is, lust is one of the seven deadly sins for a reason. My body doesn't feel like my own anymore. It feels completely driven by the need to not be so far away from the man still watching me from his bed. Big and strong and naked.

I'll never admit to how fast I crumble when he gives me a little upnod. The smallest movement. A little come-hither nod, and I'm crawling to him like he's offering me eternal life.

Every racing thought gets pushed away as soon as I crawl over his body and plaster myself to his chest. Dillon pushes his fingers into my hair at the sides of my head and grins, but I don't wait to see if he has something to say.

I can't. Or I'll start spewing the rest of my life secrets.

I'm the one to gasp at the first kiss, even though I'm the one who closes the distance. I feel his grin on my lips, and it sends a wave of tingles over my skin. But that's all I get. One gasp, one moment to feel it before the fingers in my hair curl at the root, and he kisses me back.

He kisses me back.

Rough and raw. Dillon kisses dirty and holds my face captive while he does it. I run my palms over anywhere I can touch. His shoulders, up his neck, down his chest. He rumbles a moan over my lips when I find his nipple ring and give it a little tug, smoothing the sting with my thumb.

That's when Dillon lets go of my face to grab my hips, and moves me easily until I can feel his hard cock on my ass. Now I'm the one moaning.

Or was I already? Repeatedly. Every time he stroked his tongue over mine.

Fuck.

My thoughts may be contained outside of the lust fog that's taken over, but my body is one movement after another. A started kiss, a started grind of my hips, frantically trying to pull my pants down so I can feel his skin against mine.

I prepped before I got here. I could so easily end this torture right now.

Dillon is a gentleman after all because one moment, I'm a mess of agitated, huffed breaths and fumbling fingers, and the next, I'm rolled to my back with my hands held over my head in one of his.

He kisses my mouth once, then looks down at me. “Stop moving, Emerson, or I'll tie your hands to the headboard.”

I groan, arching my hips up to him. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

There is no sign of his grin now. He tightens his hold on my hands and rocks his hips forward. I squirm, opening my thighs wider for him.

“Hold here,” he says over my lips, guiding my hands to the smooth iron posts in the headboard. He closes my fingers around one, and then the other hand. “And don't let go.”

I nod and chase his lips, but his grin is back after all. Not warm anymore, but devilish, and he presses it against the center of my chest.

“I had fantasies, too,” he says, feathering his lips over to my nipple. He looks up at me before biting the nub between his teeth. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make me ache. “When you were nineteen, and I realized how fucking cute you were. So many filthy fucking fantasies, Emerson.”

Nineteen?

I squirm, sucking in my belly as he moves down my abdomen. Licking and sucking his way down until he hits the trail of dark hair under my belly button. He pauses to tug my own piercing, but then his nose is rubbing against my happy trail, and I have to close my eyes or this will all be over real fucking quickly.

“Don't tell me,” I manage to rasp out.

He pauses at the band of my pants.