Dean makes a hoarse sound.
His hand seems to move on its own, coming up to close around my throat. He watches it happen almost dazed, but when his erection throbs all the harder inside of me, I know he likes the control it gives him. To have me by the throat. And I like the helpless power it gives me. Being under his physical direction while also using my body to make him snap.
“Who owns this little cunt?” he asks, his upper lip curling.
“You do, sir,” I whisper.
He thrusts the remaining distance, dropping down on top of me, just in time for me to scream into his shoulder. That hand remains around my throat, squeezing off and on, while he begins to buck. It’s sweaty mating, what he does to me. He uses me to tend his need. To relieve himself. And I love it. I love that I’ve brought him to this, sent him over the cliff and into a sea of raw, beastly lust. His member is massive, slapping in and out of me, his huge body—still fully clothed, just like in my fantasies—raking up and down my mostly bare one, his hips rifling forward and back, relentless, my moans battling to be heard over his growls of possession.
“Fuck. Me,” he grunts in my ear, the drives of hips beginning to grow disjointed, erratic. “This right here is pussy worth chasing all over Chicago. You’re a tight little girl, aren’t you? Running around, slipping through my fingers. Not anymore. When the sun goes down, you open these pretty legs and welcome my come. Or I track you down and pry them open myself.”
I hiccup, panicked by another rush of pleasure. It catches me off guard and batters me, squeezing my flesh around Dean’s and turning him into a flat-out monster. A beautiful one. He roars my name and bears down, pumping a final time, his hand gripping my jaw hard. He presses his mouth there, to my turned cheek, growling through his orgasm, his body rutting in fits and starts to rid itself of each hot spurt of moisture.
I gasp and gasp and gasp because this is nothing short of a baptism.
I’m holding him tightly, renewed in his pleasure. In mine. It’s a dark purpose like I’ve never known and I never want it to end. Tomorrow I’ll go back to being self-governing and stubborn, but when I’m underneath this man, I’m nothing but his downfall. I’m bent to his will. And I already know there will never be a time when I’ve had enough. I’m lost and found.
In Dean. In Doctor Fletcher.
In my Daddy. My sir.
“Did I hurt you?” he pants, scanning my face with concern as he rolls us onto our sides. “Charlotte?”
“No,” I whisper, turning into his arms. Letting him herd me closer until his heart is rapping against my ear. “I can’t…I can’t put into words yet what I felt.”
He swallows hard. “Me either.” He lifts my chin and looks me in the eye. “But we have forever to figure it out. Don’t we?”
Forever.
The look in his brown eyes says this is non-negotiable.
His body just took complete ownership of mine, there’s no denying it. And my heart…it was his from afar. Now that I know him, witnessed his compassion and willingness to compromise, I’m falling even deeper. Saying no to forever with this man is a pipe dream, but I’m not totally convinced he can give me the autonomy I hold onto outside of bed. After finding so much pleasure under his command, it’s already growing more difficult to tell him no. To keep him at enough of a distance that I can fulfill my promise to myself of making it on my own.
“Let’s start with tomorrow,” I say, settling my mouth over his, dragging my tongue across the seam of his lips, hoping to distract.
His hand tightens on my hip, his frustration evident. “Tomorrow, then, Charlotte,” he says tightly. And before I can respond, he rolls me onto my back again and drives his thickness into me, taking me in a snarling frenzy while I hold on for dear life.
Physically and emotionally.
Five
Dean
I brace my hands on the rooftop wall and fix my eyes on the building where Charlotte works at the tech company, shaking my head in dismay, as I’m wont to do these days. Water droplets from the pool where I’ve been swimming laps for the last hour roll off my back, my chin and hair. My attempts to rid myself of this restless energy have been fruitless, but at least the view is more satisfying than the one from inside the harsh white hospital walls.
Charlotte and I have officially been seeing each other for three days and each one is part struggle, part paradise. Struggle because I spend every single fucking hour resisting the urge to show up at her office, get my hands on her and alert any male co-workers that she’s off the market. And paradise because I know she’ll come to me at night.