“It could be just a dress,” he says. “Or it could be something you wore for me. Something you wanted me to see. Something you wanted me to do. Which is it, Abbi?”
“I . . .” I swallow hard. I can hardly find words right now. “I wore it for you.”
“I love that,” he growls. “If I put my hand between your legs now, am I gonna find you wet?”
“Yes,” I say.
He doesn’t make me wait. His hand is already up my skirt and between my legs, his fingers stroking the thin cotton of my underwear against my clit.
I’m already on the edge. Every stroke on my thigh under that table wound me so tight that now I could come with the lightest touch.
Grabbing me by the hips, he hoists me onto the counter. I gasp, shocked, and he presses his mouth to mine, quieting me. I melt into him, into this kiss and his hot body as he parts my thighs and steps between them.
He trails his mouth to my ear. “You have to be quiet. Can you do that for me? Tell me you can.”
“Yes,” I say, because one of his hands has already found its way back between my legs and he’s stroking me with a featherlight touch. “Please.”
“Please what?”
More pressure, more touching, more kissing, more of him. “Dean . . . Just . . . Please.”
He pulls back to look me in the eye. “Tell me what you want,” he says, his touch going even lighter.
I rock my hips forward, seeking his delicious teasing.
“Or do you not want to say it?”
“I want you.” And I mean it. I want everything. His hands, his cock, his mouth, anything. “Do you have a condom?”
He chuckles in my ear. “Oh, hell no. Not now.”
I curl my nails into his shoulder blades in frustration. “Then why are we in here?”
“Because you’re wearing this dress, and because you’re so wet I had to touch you.” His nostrils flare. “As much as I want to give you my cock right now, I’m going to need a whole lot more space and a whole lot more time. But for now . . .” In one smooth motion, he drops to his knees and tugs my panties down my hips and to the floor. His head disappears beneath my skirt as his big hands press my thighs wide and he devours me with his mouth.
I almost cry out but bite my lip at the last moment, silencing myself.
He’s relentless between my thighs—tongue flicking, searching, seeking, teasing, and demanding in equal measure. He sucks my clit into his mouth until it’s almost too much, then he retreats and teases me with the gentlest flicks of his tongue.
All I can do is brace myself on the counter, fingers curling into the granite as if I might fall off the edge. The cool stone against my fingertips is the only thing keeping me grounded in reality, the only thing reminding me that I can’t scream out in pleasure.
He strokes my thighs, sliding around to cup my ass so he can pull me forward, closer to the edge of the counter and closer to his face. Instinct has me bucking against his mouth, against the added pressure, and he growls low.
He teases me, circling my entrance, making me want to scream. And just when I think I might anyway, he slides two fingers inside me, plunging them deep twice before I lose what little hold I had on my control. I disintegrate.
He stays put, licking and sucking, taking me all the way over the edge and back to the ground.
When he stands, his hair is mussed and his lips are swollen. I know without looking that his scruff has left marks on my inner thighs, and I can’t wait to see the evidence of what Dean Jacob just did to me—and judging by the look on his face, he enjoyed it.
There’s a knock on the door and my eyes go wide.
“Everything okay in there, Abs?”
It’s Brinley. If I had to choose between her and Stella, it’s a no-brainer. Brinley will bring way fewer complications. But still. Did she hear me? Excuse me while I hide. Be back never.
“I’m fine,” I say, shocked I can even manage the words.
“Hmm. Well, I’m going to take the others out back, so you two just take your time.” Dean coughs out a laugh into his fist, and Brinley whispers, “I don’t think they know. I won’t say a word, but you and I are talking later.”
“Mm-hmm,” I say, biting back a laugh.
We stay quiet as we listen to the sounds of her steps retreating down the hall, then Dean leads me off the counter by the hand and helps smooth my dress.
“You go out first,” he says. “I’ll meet you out there soon.” I reach for the knob, but he stops me with his hand on mine. “You’re okay?”