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Because she hadn’t.
Because she’d always done exactly what he’d accused her of doing. She’d kept a blowjob in her back pocket to change the conversation. To end a fight. To make unpleasantness go away with a little bit of suction.
This was different, not only because Dylan had taken complete control. In such a masterful fashion that it made her breasts feel heavy and her belly feel unbearably light. Shivery. This was also different because she hadn’t thought of what she would gain from it at all. She’d wanted the taste of him, but more than that, she’d wanted to make him happy.
She’d wanted to please him, far more than she’d wanted to please herself.
That struck her as the kind of revelation that if she thought about too closely, might make her curl up into a ball somewhere.
And she was naked in Dylan’s astonishingly luxurious shower, and it was no time or place for the fetal position.
“Look at me,” she said softly, all too aware of the rough scrape of her voice. “Trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea. Literally.”
“Very droll.” He moved closer to her, and he didn’t ask as he took some of his shower gel and began to lather her up.
He didn’t ask, but she didn’t mind at all, because that meant his hands were all over her, but extra slippery. And there was a wickedness in his gaze as he tended to her breasts with particular care, until she was rising up on her tiptoes, arching her back, pressing herself even more fully into his palms.
And by the time they were both squeaky clean, she was panting again, with this maddening need for him that only seemed to get worse.
He took her out of the shower, toweled her off and then he led her out into the bedroom again, where it was still night, but barely. And they were both a bit damp as they rolled together on that great bed of his, and Jenny moaned out loud with sheer delight at the feel of his full, naked body stretched out against hers. All the places they were the same, and far more places where they were different.
Dylan brushed her wet hair back, and he took her mouth, and still they rolled this way, then that, as he kissed her with the same raw power he’d done everything else. And she could feel him again, hard and ready.
He pulled back, and then went for his nightstand, but she’d had him in her mouth. She didn’t want to feel anything between them. She wanted the full experience.
“I’m on the pill,” she panted at him. “I told you already. And I fully trust your test results. We’re both gloriously adult, we’ve had a frank discussion and I really, really want to feel you inside me. Just you, Dylan.”
It seemed to take him a long, long time to look back at her. And when he did, she felt everything tremble. The way he looked at her made her quake.
He reached for her, and then pulled her over him, settling her into place astride him.
“Go on,” he said as she braced herself against his chest, and looked down at him with delight. “For that, you can play awhile.”
“I’m on top. Does that mean I get to be in charge?”
There was a flash of his grin, but it was a sharp, edgy thing. “I said you can play. Make yourself come, however you can. See how long it takes you.”
She was in the grip of that fever that never ended, so she didn’t waste time asking for clarification. She didn’t care. Dylan was sprawled out beneath her and she lifted herself up, canting her hips back so she could find the broad head of his cock with her pussy. Then she began to work him inside of her.
She was wet and slippery, and so hot he hissed a little as he slid into her.
And she had half a mind to tease them both, to draw it out.
But he felt too good. She wanted him too desperately. And his hands were looped around her waist, part of this but not helping her, as she settled herself down and took all of him.
And then she began to rock herself silly.
His cock was a wonder, so big it rubbed up hard against that spot inside of her that made her feel loopy. And every time she rocked herself against him, the hard wall of his abdomen rubbed against her clit.
And she was shaking and sobbing as she moved, faster and faster, using every part of her that she could to make it better. Worse. Whatever those words even meant when it was this good. This hot. This wildly intense.
And then she was coming again, in a great, shuddering, tight wriggle of sensation.
Jenny thought she heard him laughing, dark and low.
She slumped against him, tears streaming down her cheeks again. She was gasping for breath, aware of too many things even as the aftershocks ripped through her.
The way he cradled her head against his chest. The way his other hand tracked down the length of her spine, as if to remind her where she was.
