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My voice comes out all raspy and choked because I’m utterly seized by the bliss making me feel like I’m floating. My entire weight is pressed against him as my body goes limp, wracked by little shivers of pleasure as my pussy flutters around him. Oh god, his fingers are still inside me. Despite nearly drowning from the orgasm he just gave me, my body wants more. I want more.
I’ve never felt anything like that, and I want to make him feel the same way he made me feel. There’s something about this man, something that undoes me completely. He’s magic or something, I swear it.
“Fuck, Dahlia,” Dylan grinds out, sounding tortured.
I fight to lift my head up from his shoulder so I can search his face. Does he regret this? Oh god, I don’t think I can cope with that. I don’t want to be something he regrets. Sure, the sudden onslaught of my feelings for him—physically and emotionally—scares me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to see what this is between us. Doesn’t he feel it?
“Did I…um...did I do something wrong?” I whisper, biting my lip as worry mixes with the aftershocks of pleasure.
Dylan’s eyes darken and a rough, feral sound leaves his throat.Grizzly bear, I think to myself.
“No, petal. You were fucking gorgeous,” he assures me, but his voice is dark and his gaze is even darker. He’s got that look on his face like he wants to take a bite out of me again.
I arch instinctively, inclined to let him. “It felt so good to have you soak my hand like that. All I can fucking think about is all the ways I could play with this pretty little pussy of yours. All the ways I can wring pleasure from your body. But shit, I never should’ve let this happen.”
Dylan groans, but he’s yet to pull his hand away, as though those words are what he thinks he should say but not what he really feels. “It’s like you’re drugging me,” he murmurs, “but, Goddamn, I just want more.”
The mix of lust and heat leave me with makes me feel a little dizzy.
“Does that mean you’re not going to stop?” I whimper, desperately hoping he doesn’t.
I want all the things he’s just promised. I want him to ruin me, and I don’t really care if it’s a bad idea or insane. Wild ideas are becoming my thing, I think. Why stop now, when bad ideas feel so good?
Dylan’s words are full of fire that matches the heat rising in my body once more as he growls, “Nothing could stop me now.”
6
DAHLIA
Idon’t have a chance to even process what’s happening until my back lands on my mattress, and I realize Dylan has picked me up like I weigh nothing and chucked me around like I’m some sort of plaything.
I shudder. Why do I kind of like the idea of being his to play with?
I don’t have a bedframe, and my mattress is just pressed against a wall on the floor, but it’s thick and decent quality so I bounce as he crawls onto it, making the blankets move as he disturbs them. I stare down my body at him, feeling the dampness at the seam of my sweatpants between my legs as I squirm. I expect him to cover my body with his and kiss me again—I’m aching for it—but instead, he pauses at my sock-covered feet.
“Lift your hips,” Dylan demands in that dark tone that makes my brain turn to mush. I obey without thought, arching my lower back to lift my ass off the bed. He reaches for my waistband as I do, yanking my sweatpants and underwear down my legs in one harsh, swift movement, taking my socks with them in a bundle of fabric that he chucks unceremoniously to the floor.
I feel his gaze roam my naked skin like a physical touch, and I clench my thighs together. His hand fists the hem of my top as he raises his eyes to meet mine.
“Off.”
I shuffle awkwardly in my haste, getting tangled in the sleeves as I pull my t-shirt off. I’m not wearing a bra beneath it. They’re uncomfortable and annoying and the plan for today was to work on the house so I figured being comfy made sense.
Dylan’s eyes flare with heat as his tongue drags over his bottom lip. I’m totally naked, exposed beneath his burning stare. I squirm under the intensity of it all, trying to fight the urge to cover myself back up. Nobody’s ever seen me like this before, and it’s both terrifying and exhilarating.
“How the fuck was I ever supposed to resist you, petal?” Dylan says gruffly, the words sweet but his voice deep like he’s angry at the fact he finds me attractive. I’m just stuck on the fact he wants me, so badly that he looks tortured. I love it.
If he doesn’t touch me again, I think I might combust. I want him as naked as I am, want to drink in every detail of his muscled body, want to feel his skin on mine with nothing between us. I wantso muchI can barely breathe.
“Spread your legs for me, Dahlia.”
I jolt a little at the crude words, even as they send a rush of heavy desire through me. He’s corrupting me, and I’m all for it. I do what he says, slowly parting my thighs while fighting through the embarrassment of exposing my most intimate parts to him…especially when I can feel how wet I am down there. I cover my face with my hands, wanting this so badly but unsure of how to even act.
“Don’t act shy now, petal,” Dylan growls, and through the gaps in my fingers I catch him pulling his shirt off to throw it beside my clothes on the floor. I bite my lip to muffle my groan at the sight of him. “Tell me what you want.”
“Um…more,” I babble, blushing furiously even as my back arches in invitation.
Dylan laughs darkly. “Be specific, petal. I desperately want to sink into that pretty pussy but I won’t lay a single fucking hand on you until you tell me—explicitly—you want that too, understand? Because when I start, I’m not stopping, not now. I’ll fuck you until you’re a sobbing, screaming mess and I’ll take pleasure in ruining you.”
