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“And what do we have here?” he says in a voice that’s pure smoke. I want him to take the hem of my dress in his hands and rip it in two. I love it, but right now, it’s deeply offensive and getting in Dean’s way, but a little fabric isn’t going to slow him down, not for long, anyway. He torturously sorts his way through the material of my dress until I’m at the point of screaming. I look down at where our bodies are so close together, my legs spread over his, my folds pink and wet.
“You in a hurry, sweetheart?” he says with a smirk. But I know he’s just as needy as I am. He licks his lips as his fingers hover right over where I want them. My breath catches in my throat as he lowers his hand but then stops right before it hits home.
“Baby, I need to see more skin,” he murmurs in apology then quickly moves his hands to the back of my neck, searching for the dress’ zipper. He’s not asking but telling me and makes quick work of it. And like a black waterfall, the silk slips from my shoulders to my waist, and he sucks in a breath.
“Bare here too? Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more beautiful.” His eyes rake over me, my nipples forming hard peaks as the air and his gaze hits them. He slides his hands up my rib cage and when he reaches my breasts he cups and squeezes them. I arch helplessly into his hands.
“Yesss.” My eyelids slide shut. When I feel his hot mouth close around one rigid nipple, I moan softly in approval, and he goes back and forward between the two, licking, kissing, and nipping. I let out a whimper, and he ups his game, swirling his tongue around one while at the same time pinching the other one. It feels divine. But it’s not enough.
“Put your hands behind yourself, on my legs,” he orders in a low voice, taking my wrists and directing me. This position leaves my breasts thrust out and my body angled back. He can see everything. The dress is no more than a belt at this point. I’m so exposed, but there’s nothing I want more than his hot gaze taking me in.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, cupping my hips and pulling me further forward, exposing me a little more. Then finally, he puts his fingers to where I want them most. I jerk as if I’ve been electrocuted when he reaches my slit, pleasure rippling through me. My breasts bounce as he gathers up my wetness and starts to stroke my clit. His eyes are glued to where he’s touching me, and I don’t blame him. This is hot.
He leans in and sucks a nipple back into his mouth, leaving it wet and rosy when he pops off and goes on to the other one, biting it lightly. All the while, his fingers stroke up and down on both sides of my clit, making me gasp, and my hips start to move, seeking out additional pressure from his touch.
It’s when he thumbs at the hood, rolling it back and forth lazily that I really start to suffer from his special brand of torture. My hips swivel helplessly, and I let out a long moan, the sound echoing in the open space. I throw my head back, unable to watch the erotic games he’s playing with my body. It’s sensation overload.
“Oh God, that feels good,” I say unnecessarily as if my noises and gyrating aren’t making that obvious enough.
But what comes next has me holding my breath. He moves his fingers down and stills. First, one tests my perimeter, stroking the wet silk of my entrance, then he adds another, pairing them up, testing me and edging in slowly. Penetrating. He pumps two fingers in and out, the sensations making me want to crawl out of my skin. It’s exquisite, the way he twists and churns his long digits in and out, my slickness making obscene sounds in the quiet room.
Dean slips his fingers from me completely, and I snap my eyes open and find his face, just in time to see him close his lips over them and lick away my wetness.
“Mmm, delicious,” he says in a low, low voice, his eyes an inferno of lust.
Oh God.
My muscles clench down at the loss, and I know I’m about to beg him to put them back.
“Please, Dean—”
He silences me with a hot look and a single fingertip applying pressure against my clit. Sparks fly from that tiny point of contact, and I suck in a breath, trying to hold perfectly still.
“Don’t worry, I won’t leave you hanging,” he murmurs with a smug grin, and then his fingers are back inside me, right where they belong.
“Yes, Dean. Harder,” I cry, hips thrusting down, meeting his thrusting fingers. He does as I bid, hitting a spot inside that has me seeing stars. The pleasure inside takes over, and I’m quickly losing control, riding his hand. And because he doesn’t stop pumping into me, when it hits, my climax goes on and on, sending me through the most exquisite wringer I could ever imagine. I’m flying. My body shudders, and I almost lose my grip on his legs. A strong arm wraps around my back, pulling me in close as I tumble down from the incredible high. Limp and sated.
