It also made his answer to her question incredibly easy to deliver. “Because if you were sleeping with Grant, you wouldn’t be looking at me like you want me to fuck you again.”
She scoffed and jabbed him in the chest with her index finger. “You are so full of yourself, Dylan.”
He arched a brow. “Am I? Really?” Before she realized his intent, he caught her face in his hands, holding her tight enough that she couldn’t escape what was about to happen. “Then fucking prove it, Serena.” Resist this, he thought as his mouth came down on hers. Resist me. And if she could do that, then he’d believe she truly didn’t want him.
She gasped against his lips and her hands shot up, flattening defensively against his chest. As his fingers tightened on her jaw and his tongue swept demandingly inside her mouth, he braced himself for her to push him away. He felt a moment of pressure as the heels of her hands dug into his muscles, then seconds later, her fingers fisted in his T-shirt instead. She pulled him closer and moaned in pleasure, her entire body softening against his—right where she fucking belonged.
The kiss was hot, deep, and intense. Demanding and combustive, and Serena mewled seductively against his lips and arched into him, rubbing her pelvis against the thick length of his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans. Her uninhibited, greedy response gave him all the proof he required to know that she was his. Nobody else’s, and God, he wanted it to stay that way forever.
He dropped one hand to the waistband of her sweats and tugged the tie loose enough that he could slide his hand inside her panties and between her legs, where she was already slick with desire. She shamelessly rocked against his fingers while he skimmed his lips along her jaw, then trailed them down the side of her neck with a light scrape of his teeth and puffs of hot, damp breath against her skin that made her shiver and another rush of moisture coat his hand.
He moved his mouth up to the shell of her ear as he glided his fingers against her swollen, needy clit. “Tell me, Serena,” he rasped in a heated breath. “When he kisses you, do you get all hot and wet like you do for me?”
Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, and her hips arched against his hand. Closing her eyes, she shook her head as if she didn’t want to answer his question or face the truth. “Dylan . . .”
He pushed two long fingers deep into her pussy, all the way to the second knuckle, making her cry out as he pumped them in and out, filling her, stretching her, and stroking those inner walls where she was the most sensitive. “Answer. Me.” Each word came out as a gruff demand.
She shook her head, her breathing quickening, her body trembling as he kept her right on the edge, despite her trying to ride his hand to release. “No,” she moaned desperately.
He wasn’t letting her off that easily. “No, what?” he growled, wanting to hear her say the words out loud. “Look at me when you answer.” Because it was equally important for her to meet his gaze when she admitted the truth.
Her lids fluttered open, and her hands came up to cradle his face with excruciating gentleness as she stared into his eyes, baring herself to him. “No, Dylan. He doesn’t make me hot and wet like you do. Nobody ever has. Not like this.”
Her confession unlocked something inside of him. Something wild and untamed and beyond his control or comprehension. He grabbed the back of her neck with his free hand and claimed her mouth once again with his own, sliding his tongue as deep as his fingers thrusting between her thighs. His thumb worked her clit, giving her the pressure and friction she needed to send her soaring. Burying her face against his neck and hanging on to him for dear life, she cried out as her orgasm pulsed through her and had his dick throbbing for its own release.
A minute or so later, when he knew she had her bearings back and could think clearly, he withdrew his fingers and reached for the hem of her T-shirt, yanking it up and off her in one smooth move.
“Too many fucking clothes,” he muttered, and she must have agreed because she eagerly helped him out of his, too, until they were both standing in her living room naked.
She pressed her warm, lush body against his and reached between them to stroke his cock, nice and tight and slow as she placed soft kisses on his jaw, his neck, her tongue darting out to t
aste his salty skin. Pre-cum was already seeping from the tip, and considering how aroused he was, Dylan knew it would only take a few strokes of a hand job from her to make him come, and he wanted to be deep inside her when that happened.
And then he realized he didn’t have any protection with him, because there was no way he would have ever predicted that this evening would end with sex. “Oh, fuck,” he said beneath his breath, startling her enough that she moved her head back to look into his eyes. He squeezed his own shut, because he couldn’t think straight when she was sliding his dick through her fist.
“I don’t have a condom with me,” he said, his voice hoarse with disappointment.
“You don’t need one.” She pressed another light kiss to his jaw, gave his shaft another firm squeeze. “I’m on birth control, and I’m good if you are.”
He knew what she was saying, and he opened his eyes, held her gaze, and gave her the reassurance she deserved. “I’m clean.” He’d never had sex without a condom, and there had been no issues during his last physical and blood test.
“I trust you,” she said.
Those words . . . they meant everything to him. She meant everything to him. “Bedroom?” he suggested.
Her mouth tipped up in a playful smile that made his heart feel as though it flipped over in his chest. “No. How about right here,” she said, and pushed him backwards until his legs hit the edge of the couch and he had no other option but to sit.
She was gloriously, beautifully naked, and he drank in the soft, lush curves of her body as she reached up and pulled the pencil from her upswept hair. A low groan of approval rumbled in his chest as he watched in fascination as those silky strands tumbled down around her shoulders. She closed the distance between them, straddled his lap, and he held his cock upright as she slowly, seductively, lowered herself on him. He sank inside her, inch by decadent inch, until they were joined completely and he was buried to the hilt.
The feel of her body clasping his with nothing separating them was indescribable and sublime. A delightful sigh slipped past her lips, and she braced her hands on his shoulders, tipped her head back, and rolled her hips against his, fucking him at her own leisure. He filled his hands with her full breasts, squeezing the firm flesh, and when that was no longer enough for him, he flattened one of his palms in the middle of Serena’s back and drew her body closer so he could lower his head and circle her stiff nipples with his tongue.
He sucked those tight, puckered tips, pinched them, bit them until they were rock hard and rosy. Each increasing level of pleasurable pain had her gasping and grinding against him harder, faster, taking him deeper, and driving them both toward release. Grabbing her waist, he brought Serena down on his cock as he thrust upward, pumping his hips and taking control. He heard her cry out as she clenched around his shaft, milking him as his balls tightened and his own orgasm surged through him in hot, pulsing jets. Aftershocks rattled through both of them, until they were too exhausted to move.
With his cock deep inside Serena and their bodies still joined, and her cuddled so warm and perfectly against his chest, the only thought that filled Dylan’s head was that she’s mine. She’s all fucking mine.
10
Serena woke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of Dylan rattling around in her kitchen. She should have been elated after her night with him, but the truth was, in the light of day, a huge dose of reality was crashing over her and chasing away her post-orgasmic bliss. Her chest hurt at the knowledge at what she had to do to protect her emotions, because she couldn’t keep doing this with Dylan.