AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Baby. The pet name was engraved on my heart the moment it left his lips, and I floated higher on that cloud, wearing an elated grin as I watched him.
Dylan hadn’t been very accustomed to using the prosthetic when I first met him despite having it for several years. It had been obvious in his stiff movements and lack of confidence. But he was doing somewhat better now, kneeling with little trouble, and I found myself smiling with pride as he wrapped his arms around my thighs and pulled me toward the edge of the bed.
“What’s that look for?” he asked, keeping his gaze on mine as he leaned in.
His hot breath covered me, and I shuddered with anticipation.
“I’m just happy you’re here,” I said, not wanting to make a spectacle of him. I hated when people did it to me; I could only imagine how he felt.
“Oh,” he said, brushing his lips against my inner thigh. “Well, let’s see if I can make you a little happier.”
Then, his tongue slid from his lips and bathed the juncture between my legs in one complete swipe—from bottom to top. My elbows gave out as his lips wrapped around me, sucking and biting. Bumping that metal stud on his tongue against that little bundle of nerves until I couldn’t hold out any longer and fell over the edge of climax, pulling a pillow over my face to muffle the moans erupting from my mouth against my will.
With my eyes squeezed shut, I grinned, delirious and sated. If you had told me six months ago that Dylan Pierce would one day be going down on me in my bedroom, I would’ve called you crazy. But there I was, lying on my sheets, soaked in bliss, while he sank his teeth into my inner thigh and groaned.
“God, how can you be so damn perfect?” he asked through a clenched jaw.
I opened my eyes and looked down over my body to meet his gaze.
A devilish half-smile curled his lips. “How happy would you say you are now?”
“Hmm,” I said, biting my lip with coy consideration. “I’d say … very …veryhappy.”
“Mmm,” he groaned, bracing his arms against the bed to climb back onto his feet. “Then, my job here is done.”
It took a little more effort for him this time, and I watched his frustration unfold as he made a second attempt at getting up.
“Do you need help?” I asked quietly, worried the offer in itself might offend him.
“No.” His reply was sharp, and it stung. He pinched his eyes shut, holding back the fury as he got to his feet. His breath came in short, hot bursts as he calmed his heart and anger.
In an attempt to help him relax, I took my turn in ordering him around and told him to make himself comfortable in whatever way he saw fit. He sat at the edge of my bed, and I slipped onto the floor to kneel between his spread thighs. Dylan groaned, and I answered with a pull of his fly, quickly releasing his erection.
Taking him into my mouth and feeling him against my tongue, I reciprocated the best way I knew how. I knew he had been with a number of women, and I had to assume at least some of them had been better in bed than me. But whether it was from skill alone or excruciating arousal, his orgasm came quickly. Regardless of the reason, I was satisfied and mentally patted myself on the back for being decent enough to get him off in under ten minutes.
That had to count for something, right?
I sat beside him on the bed, still riding my own postcoital high, and grinned at him as he scratched Ernest behind the ears. I was hoping he’d hang out a little while longer. Maybe watch a movie or grab something to eat. Anything to make up for the four weeks I’d spent in his complete absence, but before I could say anything, his phone rang quicker than he could zip his fly.
“Fuck, it’s Mitch,” he grumbled, skipping over the sated ecstasy to jump straight into irritation. “I gotta go.”
“Really?” I asked, reaching for my pants. “But … you practically just got here.”
He nodded and stood, already heading for the door as he pulled his zipper up. “I told him we’d get on Skype tonight. I have a few songs I wanna play for him,” he said, reaching for the doorknob.
“Wait, can I just ask one question?”
Dylan nodded, turning from the door to reveal a softness in his expression. It was new, something I hadn’t quite seen on him the times before, and I took it as a good thing.
“So, um, one of my old friends from school is getting married,” I said, grabbing the invitation from off my dresser. I turned and handed him the gaudy gold piece of card stock and continued, “I told them I’d bring a guest, and I thought I’d ask you. I mean, if you can’t go, it’s fine. I can ask my brother. But—”
“I’ll go,” he said after inspecting the invitation and then handing it back.
“Really?” I stared at him, dumbfounded. I had intended on asking, yeah, but I’d never expected him to accept.
“Sure,” he replied with a shrug, like it was no big deal. Like we hadn’t just spent the past four weeks in utter silence from each other. “It might be fun.”
Then, we said good night with a soft, lingering kiss, his hands cradling my head and my fingers gripping his shirt. No promises were made regarding when I would hear from him again, but he did swear he’d be better about staying in touch, and I believed him. How could I not?
