What If I Never (Necklace Trilogy 1)

No one has ever done anything like this to me, and I can’t think of anything but what comes next. I mean I’ve had demands, but they were the wrong kind of demands, ones that stirred dread, not arousal. Anger, not desire.

Dash caresses my backside and spreads me wider, his fingers sliding into the wet heat of my body, teasing me, arousing me. My God, I’m going to come. The bloom of orgasm is there and as if he knows, as if he’s tormenting me, he’s suddenly gone again. I want to cry out with my body’s protest. The only relief I find is the sound of a condom wrapper tearing, and the promise that he will soon return, that he will finally be inside me. And then he’s there, his hands on my hips, the thick ridge of his erection pressed against the wet heat of my body.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Allie.”

Yes, please, I think, only to pant with the feel of his cock stroking the seam of my body, up and down, back and forth, teasing my swollen, aching flesh. “Dash,” I groan, impatient now, done with the teasing.

He laughs low and sexy, and then he thrusts inside me. Now, my groan has morphed into a moan and he moans with me, shifting inside me, settling deeper. Already he thrusts again, hard and fast, and yes, thank you, he’s done teasing me. He pumps over and over, and when neither of us can get enough, he folds himself around me, covering my breasts with his hands. And while I welcome his touch, I still cannot touch him and I just can’t take it.

That need to touch him drives an illogical action. I reach for his hand on my breast as if I can actually hold my weight and his with one hand. I fail miserably, forced to catch myself on my elbows. Dash responds, rolling with me, pulling us to our sides, him behind me, his powerful leg catching my leg. His hand reaching around me, cups my face, his mouth stretches to my mouth. My mouth stretches to his mouth. A new intimacy stretches between us.

In the midst of that kiss, in the way his body cradles mine, in the sway of our bodies, there’s a slow, sultry passion erupting between us. The room fills with the music, our soft pants, the burn of desire. Too soon, I’m on the edge, not ready for this to end but I’m so there, in that sweet spot, there’s no turning back. His hand is on my breast, and my hand is on his when he thrusts into me, and my sex spasms around the thick pump of his cock. I jerk with the impact and tremble all over. Dash’s entire body seems to hug mine as he pumps one more time and quakes, his body jerking right along with mine.

The world is nothing but pleasure, and time stands still. I lose the ability to be anywhere but in the moment. And when I come back to the present, it’s with the heavy stated feeling of complete satisfaction and the wonderful weight of Dash draped over me. Dash strokes my hair from my face and kisses my neck. “You okay?”

I laugh. “Okay? Ah, yeah. I’m pretty okay right now. Are you okay?”

“I’m fucking wonderful,” he says. “Let’s eat and do that again.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Let’s eat and do that again.

Just that easily Dash wipes away any chance of the dreaded after-sex awkwardness.

That is until he kisses my neck and then he’s standing, pulling on the pants I never saw him take off, and I’m sitting on the edge of the couch, naked. I stand up and reach for my dress where it lies on the floor, all balled up. He reaches for it as well and then we’re both standing there with me naked and him not. His lips curve. “I object to you getting dressed. I like you better naked.”

It’s my turn to object. “I’m not hanging out naked, Dash.”

“Why not?”

“Dash,” I plead, tugging on my dress.

He folds me close, scrunching it between us. “I’ll get you a shirt. It’s more comfortable than the dress and easier to take off. Don’t move,” he orders, his lips curving at his obvious play on all the times he just ordered me around. “I’ll be right back.”

“Still bossing me around?”

“You’re still naked so I still get to boss you around.”

“When do I get to boss you around?”

“Probably never, but we’ll negotiate.” He winks. “Naked.”

I’m smiling when he kisses me, and says, “I don’t trust you not to get dressed.” He catches my hand and starts walking toward a doorway I assume leads to both the bathroom and the closet, and I’m no longer thinking of me being naked. Not when he’s half-naked, his jeans slung low over a muscular backside, and he doesn’t have on underwear. I decide right then that I am not leaving until I’ve properly touched him all over.