Break

“Tate doesn’t hand out compliments like that, you know,” Dashiell says. “You’re on fire right now, Sam.”

The irony isn’t lost on me. Mother deprived me of nourishment all those years to make me work harder, but it turns out all I needed was a little love and attention to bloom bigger and brighter than ever before.

When we get home, there’s a note taped on Dash’s door. He rips it down and opens the paper, reading out loud. “‘Dash, honey. I’m sleeping in Sam’s bed tonight. How about your girlfriend stay over and maybe we could discuss this as a permanent arrangement if you two want to get on with your lives. Love, Mom.’”

“Lizzy is the best,” I say as we open the door.

The kitchen island greets us with two arrangements of long-stemmed roses and a large pizza still warm in its box. Mother used to be knocked out on Xanax when I got home from a dress rehearsal or performance. Sometimes, Dad would be up, but he wouldn’t know what was going on in my life. Shareen would often leave me a little congratulatory note on my pillow with my sheets turned down and I’d tear up reading it as it exemplified the only shred of kindness in my home life.

“I can help you navigate any offers you might get from this, even though I’m not officially part of your management team,” Dash says, pulling out plates from the cupboard and setting them on the island.

“What kind of offers might those be?” I ask him, my voice filled with innuendo. I take a bite of warm pizza and revel in the indulgence.

“Whatever offers you wish, Princess.”

His tone is different than before. Usually, when he says “princess,” it sounds like an insult, but tonight his tone is deferential as if I were a real princess and he, my lowly servant.

“I’m sore all over. I need a massage,” I say, testing the waters.

Dashiell lifts me from where I sit on the kitchen island and carries me to his king-sized bed, where he undresses me with devotion and tenderness. He takes out a liniment and begins to slowly massage my aching muscles until the tension pours out of me, and I’m nothing more than a puddle on his bedspread.

“Make me come, Dash,” I say, trying to hide the quiver in my voice.

He climbs onto the bed languidly and pushes my ankles toward my butt bending my knees until I’m completely exposed, laid bare in front of him.

“You’re already wet,” is the last thing I hear him say before his mouth connects with my sex, hot, hungry, and eager to please.

My back arches as I surrender to the pleasure he exacts with his tongue, lashing, then soothing, sucking, then pulling. I’m dripping with arousal and bucking every time he strokes my clit, which is tender and on the edge of torment. He reaches up to pinch my nipples and I begin to shudder, overcome with desire while my pussy gushes and he greedily laps it up.

“I want to sit on your face,” I tell him in a moment of lusty madness.

He rolls on his back and pushes up toward the pillow. I climb up his strong, gorgeous body until I’m straddling his chest.

“I’ve never done this before,” I tell him sheepishly.

He puts a finger to his lips in response and yanks my hips forward, guiding my needy center to his mouth. From this angle, he can tongue fuck me so deep my head lolls back in ecstasy. The scratch of his stubble close to my most sensitive place drives me insane, and I ride his face shamelessly.

He reaches up and pinches my nipples, unrelenting and hard, until I’m coming into his mouth, more intensely than I’ve ever come before. I ride the orgasm all the way out until the last little ripple leaves my body. I collapse in a heap to the side of him, my chest heaving with the rush of pleasure that’s just ripped through me.

With my face in the pillow, I reach back and stroke his massive cock. It’s my favorite part of Dashiell. I like all of his parts, but it’s his penis I love the most. I massage it lazily while it swells even larger in my palm.

Eventually, after I recover, I sit up and crawl to his body, straddling his waist this time. I fist his shaft and pull his cock back from where it’s pressed against his belly. Then little by little, I lower myself onto his straining dick until I’m so full with his thickness that I almost come again. I arch back and rest my hands above his knees as I begin to ride.

When Dash reaches for my breasts, I slap his hand away. “Look, don’t touch,” I command.

He puts his hands behind his head and takes in my second-best performance of the night.