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Because he cared about her. A lot. Because she was pretty, and funny, and smart, and tasted like sunshine. Because it felt so fucking good to just pretend that he could end up with someone like her.
But that’s all it was: pretend. And that’s all it could be. She deserved so much better than what he could give her. Even if he wanted to try.
Well, except for the multiple orgasms. Those he knew he could help her with.
At the thought, his cock throbbed, his balls tight. He was so hard he couldn’t even think straight. All he could think about was Carly, and how good it would feel to bury himself inside her. How sweet she’d look on her knees, taking him into her mouth. How perfect she’d taste, coming on his tongue. He shouldn’t want her this way, but he did.
He gripped his cock, stroking himself. Heat pulsed down his spine. Maybe if he took care of himself, took the edge off, he’d be able to think. Breathe. He stroked himself again, imagining Carly riding him, his mouth on her breasts, his hands firm on her ass, helping her, guiding her, urging her to sink deeper . . .
“Dean? Are you okay?”
Shit. Somewhere in the back of his head, he registered that he’d moaned, lost in his fantasy about the very woman checking on him.
She poked her head into the bathroom, and their eyes locked. Heat pulsed in the air between them, and her gaze drifted down to where his fist was still wrapped around his cock. She swallowed, her slender throat working. Then, meeting his eyes once again, she reached behind her neck and tugged on the tie of her bikini top. It fell forward, exposing two perfectly shaped handfuls, topped with light pink nipples. She undid the other tie, the one around her back, and the top fell to the ground. She started working her bottoms down over her hips, and then she kicked free of them, stepping into the shower.
“Jesus, Car, you shouldn’t be in here,” he managed, using every ounce of strength he had to stop himself from reaching out for her. He knew if he touched her, he’d be a goner, and they’d be racing over a line they probably shouldn’t cross.
“Probably not,” she said, her voice high and breathy. He couldn’t stop his eyes from roving over her body, all that creamy skin, those gorgeous breasts he wanted to lick, and kiss, and suck, and bite. His gaze traveled further down, devouring her. Fuck. She was completely smooth, bare and sweet. He clenched his teeth and forced himself to breathe. “But I want this as much as you do.” She stepped closer, close enough that his cock brushed against her stomach. She leaned forward and traced her lips over his chest, kissing a path from one pec to the other. She looked up at him, a few droplets of water clinging to her eyelashes. “You do want me, don’t you?” She kissed his chest again, her teeth scraping lightly over his skin.
He let out a groan, the air around them practically sizzling. “You shouldn’t ask me that, sweetheart.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m barely hanging on here.”
She stretched up onto her toes and kissed his jaw. “Then let go.”
“Fuck.” His curse was a harsh, desperate whisper as he tugged her against him and closed his mouth over hers. She moaned as his tongue slid against hers, her hands tracing up and down his sides and over his stomach. She dipped her fingers into the ridges of his abs, the muscles along his hips, and it felt as though no one had ever really touched him before. Not like this. He was so experienced, and yet everything felt so shiny and new with her.
It was terrifying, but felt too good to stop.
Her hands dipped lower, and as he buried his face in her neck, she circled one of her hands around his cock, stroking him.
“Were you thinking about me when you were touching yourself?” she asked.
He flexed his hips, moving against her hand. “Yes.”
“Oh, God,” she moaned, stroking him faster. Too fast. His hands rough on her hips, he spun her around, pulling her against him, so her back was flush against his chest, his cock snug against her ass and safe from her hands. He pushed her hair out of the way and trailed kisses over her neck and shoulders as his hands dipped lower, cupping her breasts, discovering the weight and shape of them with his palms. She arched her back, pressing into his touch. He caught her nipples and rolled them between his thumb and forefinger, licking a path up her neck. He teased along the outside of her ear, and she gasped and moaned. So hot. So responsive.
Leaving one hand on her breast, he slid the other lower, down over her stomach until he cupped her. She was hot against his hand, and spread her legs wider for him. Eager.
He spread her lips with his fingers, opening her so he could explore. Slick heat greeted him, and he groaned against her skin, gently, slowly, touching her with light, teasing strokes. Wanting so badly to learn every inch of her, to discover what made her lose her mind. He already knew so much about her, but all of this was uncharted territory. Excitement spiked through him, and he circled his fingers around her clit.
“Shiiiiiiiiiiit,” she gasped out, working her hips against his hand. “So good, Dean.”
At the sound of his name on her lips, his cock jumped against her, throbbing, aching, wanting. He dipped his fingers lower, easing first just one, and then a second into her tight, wet heat. They moaned in unison, and he fucked her slowly with his fingers, feeling as though he were about to burst with how good she felt, her pussy fluttering around his fingers. He slicked his thumb over her clit, and she went rigid against him.
“I’m so close,” she whispered, sounding both desperate and surprised. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
“I won’t. I don’t think I can. You feel so goddamn good, Carly. So wet and hot on my fingers.”
She moaned, loud and long, and he kept his pace steady. Suddenly, her right leg started to shake, trembling violently against him. Her weight fell back against his chest as she contracted around his fingers, coming long and hard with a series of sighs and moans that only made him ache even more for her.
She rested her head against his shoulder, breathing hard, her skin flushed, and he turned her around, needing to kiss her. “You’re so beautiful when you come,” he said against her mouth. She wove her hands into his hair, pulling him closer. He kissed her hard and deep, unable to get enough of her taste, the sounds she made for him.
They were barreling toward something, a line that once crossed, couldn’t be uncrossed. If they had sex, it would change things.
With a soul-straining effort, he broke the kiss. “This is probably a bad idea,” he said, although he wasn’t sure if he totally believed that.
