AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It happens so fast. One minute I'm in my seat, the next, his is fully reclined and I'm on his lap, straddling those muscular thighs I’ve studied for endless hours while training. Rough hands glide up my tights until they slip under my dress, finding my ass.
Our tongues meet in a forceful explosion, fireworks rippling throughout my body at the feel of his hungry mouth against mine. His lips move steady and quick. There's a demanding control in his motions. He owns me, taking what he needs, giving what I desire.
He pulls back from my lips to rest his forehead on mine as he roughly grips my hips against the obvious strain beneath his jeans.
“Shit, D,” he groans between us, his face pained.
“I hate this,” I admit between a few light kisses.
“We just need to accept it.” He kisses me, understanding my statement entirely. Knowing how amazing this feels between us. “You need to accept it.” Another kiss.
I pull back, sitting on his thighs with my arms on the headrest behind him to brace myself, breathless as my chest heaves in passion. His words carry a weight to them that the heat of the moment can mask. I'm smart enough to understand that. Aware enough to hold it at bay.
“I—”
“I'll chase you,” he interrupts.
I direct my eyes up towards his. “What?”
“If you even for a second think you're gonna run, know I'll chase you. I'll chase until you're mine,” he whispers, grabbing my wrists and placing them on both sides of the headrest, making me fall forward into him again. “I'll catch you when you're slippin’.” He leans forward to capture my lips, pulling my bottom lip between his and sucking it tenderly before releasing it. “And you'll love every bit of getting caught.”
I grind my hips down onto him. “And what if I'm faster?”
His head drops back against the seat as he studies me through his lashes.
“It's a shame you're training me to be better than I was.” He smirks. “You're your own demise, Chief.”
My hands slide from the headrest down to his neck. I run my thumbs along his strong jawline, littered with the perfect amount of stubble to make my thighs quake with a silent reminder of the delightful chafe of his face between my legs.
But it's more than sex making my thighs squeeze together, keeping me from falling apart above him. He wants me. Me. Little ol' me. Grubby, grungy, old-stale-sweats-wearing, Dylan. Staring into his eyes beneath me, I feel the heaviness of our evening boiling down to this moment.
“Don't make me regret it,” I whisper, peering from his soft lips to his curious eyes.
“Training me?”
“No,” I reply simply. “Slipping.”
He inhales, then cups the side of my face, tucking the hanging hair behind my ear before both palms hold the sides of my neck and jaw.
“Told you I'd catch you,” he whispers.
He'd catch me. Waiting for me to fall. But falling is scary because you have to let go. Letting go is what I'm trained not to do. My heart, while guarded by a wall of layered rock, is ultimately the most fragile part of me. He could break me in a day if given the access.
“Be careful with me,” I warn, peering back and forth between his eyes.
Heat builds in his gaze as his chest expands and contracts against mine. His hands fall slowly from my neck, trailing down around my breasts until they meet my ribs. They fall to the curve of my hips, where his firm grip creates divots in my flesh.
“I plan on being a lot of things with you,” he says hoarsely, his jaw flexing as he pauses before gazing up at me with that fire that penetrates me. “But careful is not one of them.”
40
Lake
Icouldpassoutfrom the stir of emotions and untamed lust twisting in the pit of my stomach.
Fuck, I need her. Need her in more ways than I ever thought imaginable. Asking her to meet my mother was easy. I want it like nothing I've wanted before. Two women who are mirror images of each other in all the ways that matter. Selfless, loving, strong…
I can only hope that Dylan's strength will exude off of her and give my mother a reminder of the power she possesses deep beneath the surface to fight this illness. I hope Dylan will understand me better, knowing where and who I came from. Knowing that I’m not the guy everyone sees plastered on the billboards. The one that women everywhere pine over, thinking one-night-stands with no attachments, get me off. The Playboy Footballer.
