Getting Played (Getting Some 2)

Her eyes move between me and Jason and her voice is firm and distinct as she says, “Nothing happened between me and Dean, you need to know that. I kissed him when he wasn’t expecting it . . . and then he turned me down flat. I’m not telling you this to be nice, I’m telling you because it’s true.”

Kelly folds her arms. “He’s a good friend and a good guy. Every woman in this town has suspected for a long time that if Dean Walker ever really fell for someone, he would be so much better than good—he’d be incredible at it. And he’s fallen for you—for both of you. If you can’t see that, you’re idiots. And you don’t deserve him.”

She takes a deep breath, blowing it out as she shrugs. “That’s it—that’s all I came to say. I’m out.”

And with that, Kelly Simmons turns around and walks out the door.

~ ~ ~

It’s almost ten when Dean gets back from Grams’s. He stopped over to have dinner with her, do some maintenance around the house, make sure she can read all the bills clear enough to pay them.

“How was your night?” he asks, walking into the bathroom to brush his teeth, wearing navy boxer briefs that make my mouth water, because he looks so hot, and big and already semi-hard—and tonight’s the night I do something about it.

When he emerges a minute later, I rise up on my knees and move toward the edge of the bed. I feel ungainly and awkward but the heat that spikes in Dean’s eyes and the hunger that tightens his jaw makes me think I must look pretty damn seductive.

I can feel how much he wants me. I always could. And just like every time before—Dean wants me a hell of a lot.

I rest my arms on his shoulders and look into his ocean-blue eyes.

“Kelly Simmons stopped by the house today. She told me and Jason that she kissed you and you turned her down.” I run my fingers through the silky hair at the nape of his neck. “But I’d already decided that I believed you, before she came. I was going to tell you when you got home. It’s important to me that you know I believed you. Do you?”

He breathes out a sigh and tugs me closer. “Yeah, I do, Lainey.”

“And I’ve missed you.”

Dean runs his hands along my arms, up my neck, through my hair—just touching me.

“I’ve missed you too. So goddamn much.”

He holds my face and kisses my lips and it’s like my entire body goes slack with the relief of being close to him again. The stroke of his tongue makes my hips swivel and my muscles clench. And though there’s nothing to be done about it on my end—I’m going to take care of him. I want to show him—with my hands, my mouth, my tongue—how much I want him, how much he means to me.

I trail kisses along his collar bone and down his chest. I lick the water droplets from his skin and moan at the taste of him.

I maneuver my body so I’m on all fours and trace Dean’s abs with the tip of my tongue. His hand slides through my hair, occasionally clenching like he just can’t help himself and that shaky control turns me on even more.

Dean’s cock is a hard, thick outline beneath the navy cotton of his briefs. I mouth him over the thin fabric, letting him feel the heat of my mouth and the stroke of my tongue.

His head lolls back on his neck as I slip the boxers down his hips. His voice sounds strangled, like he may have swallowed his tongue.

And swallowing is my job.

“Lainey . . .”

“I want this, Dean. I want to touch you—taste you—I want it so much.” I look up at him, meeting his eyes. “Do you want me to?”

His hand fists in my hair again, tugging harsher.

“Christ, yes.”

And I smile—right before I pump him in my hand, and lick around the smooth, hot head of his dick. I don’t tease him—he’s waited long enough. I take the hard shaft between my lips and slide on the way down—until he’s balls-deep in my mouth.

And it’s so good. He tastes so fucking good—I moan around him. I withdraw slowly, stroking the underside of his shaft, then push back down until I feel his thickness nudge the back of my throat. Then I do it again and again—faster, wetter—sucking hard.

And it’s not just for Dean—this is for both of us. Because he makes me so happy and I love making him feel good.

My hands grasp his hips and I urge him forward and back—giving him permission to pump into my mouth.

“Jesus fuck.”

His breaths are gasping and his voice is a growl. He holds my shoulders and thrusts in quick, shallow strokes.