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A mixture of a scream and Dylan’s name leaves my mouth as I clutch at his back, pretty sure I’m scratching him but too out of my mind with bliss to stop myself. He groans, shuddering as I claw at him and the idea that he’s feeling the same all-consuming pleasure as me only makes my own soar higher.
I shatter under him, nails digging into his back and shoulders in earnest, as pleasure explodes through me. My orgasm triggers his, and his fingers flex where he grips my leg as his thrusts lose their rhythm and he shoves himself deep, groaning as he follows me over the edge.
For a minute, our panting breaths fill the air between us as we both come back into our bodies, every inch of my skin still feeling oversensitive. Dylan grunts as he shuffles a little to let me drop my leg, my muscles shaking from exertion. My hair is a wild mane around my face, and there’s a deep ache between my legs where he’s still buried, mixing with the aftershocks of my orgasm.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, a little in shock that this has even happened. I don’t regret it though, not even for a second. “That was…I nearly passed out.” I laugh, covering my face with my hands as I process it all.
Dylan chuckles, leaning down on his elbows over me. “You’re going to be a problem for me, aren’t you, petal?” he asks, but I know the question isn’t actually aimed at me.
“You like me being a problem,” I argue with a breathless laugh. “I’myourproblem.”
Dylan kisses me, stealing the words off my lips before I can finish saying them, showing me that he meant what he said. I’m his. Happiness floods me at the thought.
Slowly, he pushes away, easing out of me as he sits back, kneeling at the end of the mattress.
I clamp my thighs together, cheeks burning as I feel our combined release rush out of me. Dylan shakes his head, tapping my thigh until I part them again, sure my face is burning red now as he looks at his come covering my pussy.
“So fucking perfect,” he whispers, eyes locked onto me. “And so fucking mine.”
7
DYLAN
Ijust took Dahlia Jenkins’ virginity.
As in, Harry’s fucking sister. As in,supposed to be so fucking off-limits it’s not even funny.
But I don’t care. Not even the devil himself could rip Dahlia out of my arms. She’s mine and I don’t give a shit how Harry feels about that. I’ll deal with him later.
I stare at Dahlia, limp and sated and messy with my release, thoroughly fucked and claimed.
And I feel fucking elated about it. The knowledge that nobody else has ever had her but me fills me with feral pride. All I want to do is pin her on that mattress and do it again, claim her over and over. Shit, my cock’s already getting hard again.
I’m like the big bad wolf ready to devour her perfect body and to claim her heart, and I’m not sorry for it. She’s not, either.
This fucking girl.
God, thisgirl.
My girl.
I open my mouth to tell her just that, but a man’s voice from downstairs interrupts me.
“Hello?”
Shit. We lost track of time. Dahlia squeaks with surprise, scrabbling to cover her body as if the guy is going to come straight through her bedroom door. The urge to tear the sheets away from her and expose every inch of her to me to feast on is nearly impossible to push down.
Clearly, I’m shit at resisting her, but one of us has to be responsible right now or else we’ll not leave this room for a day.
“It’s Tom, the roofer,” I remind her as she turns panicked eyes on me.
“Oh, shit, I forgot…” She blushes again, and my chest swells at the sight.
“It’s okay, petal.” I find that I need to protect her from even her own worries. “Get dressed and I’ll go deal with him, yeah?”
She nods, and it takes all my willpower to turn away from her as she hurries to pull her clothes back on. I push to my feet, throw my own clothes back on in record time, and hurry out of the room, jogging down the stairs.
Tom, the roofer, is waiting at the foot of the stairs. I’ve worked with the guy before. He’s a couple of years younger than me, with curly blond hair and a better attitude than I’ve ever had.
