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“Dakota,” I whisper, reaching blindly for her, and she’s in my arms, her head pressed to my chest. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She’s rubbing her hands up and down my sides. “I understand.”
I wanna curse and punch something, but she’s in my arms, and I’m still trying to c
atch my breath, damn grateful that I didn’t fall headfirst into a flashback, that it was only a small panic attack.
Shit.
“We’ll take it slow,” she says. “Like when we first met. One step at a time.”
It sucks. It makes my neck heat with shame that I can’t just make love to my girl without freaking out. It makes me goddam furious with myself for not being strong enough, and with that asshole for breaking me like this.
But her touch is distracting, and then her mouth trails over my chest, warm and soft. She lifts one hand to toy with the barbell in my nipple, and fuck, this feels good.
She feels so good.
“All I’ve ever wanted,” she says, “is you. You gave me wings to fly. Remember? The tattoo on my back. Your gift. Though it’s not the ink that helps me fly. It’s your love. And I’ll make sure you fly with me. I won’t let you fall.”
For some strange reason, my eyes burn. I swallow hard. “I know.”
“Let me make you come.”
And her words are like lightning bolts to my dick. I can’t keep back a groan when she tugs harder on the barbell. Can’t think. All the blood is rushing south, and my hardening cock tries to lift up, trapped underneath her.
Her breath comes out in a rush when she feels me and she shifts back, giving me space. Her hand drops from my nipple to my dick and I gasp out loud.
So damn different when she grips me than when I jack off myself. Maybe it’s the image of her small hand wrapped around my hard on, her thumb stroking the head, toying with the small, wet slit there. Maybe it’s the way her lashes lower as she watches my dick swell more in her grip until she can barely hold it.
How her lips part when I lean in and crush my mouth to hers, needing to feel more of her on me. This is good, this is so different from the memories. It’s only arousal and white-hot need.
Her hand grips me harder and the pressure behind my balls is suddenly reaching critical mass. I release her lips to lean back, my stomach clenching, my hands scrabbling at the sheets for balance.
It’s been too fucking long, and her flushed cheeks, the way her hard nipples poke through her thin blouse, Christ, it’s all turning me on so damn much it’s a miracle I haven’t come yet.
Guess I need something more, and this girl knows my body better than I do, because she plays with the Jacob’s Ladder as she strokes my dick, pushing the pleasure to the point of pain. Her other hand finds my other nipple, tugs on that barbell, too, and ah hell. The combination just about kills me.
My dick jerks, my balls tighten, and before I can warn her that I’m coming, pleasure rushes through me, sharp and hot. My ass all but lifts off the bed as I grunt and push my cock into her hand, shooting load after load all over my chest.
Whoa.
Goddamn.
When I can finally look up again, I find a pleased little smirk on her face. I wrap a hand around her head and pull her in for one more kiss as I pant and pray my heart won’t pound its way out of my chest.
“Love you,” I say against her sweet lips. “You have no idea how much.”
“I think I do.” She winks at me, and scoots away. “Let me clean you up.”
God, she has no clue. She’s everything to me. It makes my resolve stronger to fix what’s wrong with me, make sure I can be good enough for her and our family.
That crazy plan to catch Kenneth Shaw I shot down earlier on because it scared me shitless?
Fuck that.
I’m in.
Chapter Thirty Three
