Dylan (Inked Brotherhood 4)

“Like what you see?” I ask quietly.

She laughs, a nervous s

ound, and her cheeks flush red. I can see her nipples hardening through her sweater. Her gaze rakes over my chest, slowly moving down, past my navel to my crotch and my aching erection.

Fuck. I may feel like crap, but I can’t help the way my body responds to her. I’m like oxygen to her flame: she ignites me. I need her so badly I’m scared of myself.

So I tear my gaze away, pull back the shower curtain, and turn on the hot water.

I hear a rustle, and I look back to see her tug her sweater over her head. Holy fuck. I lick my dry lips at the sight of her breasts, trapped in a black bra. Then she pushes down her pants and toes everything off, remaining in tiny black panties.

It’s just a black triangle in the front, strings at the sides. Her pale hourglass figure seems to glow in the dimness.

“Come here,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Now.”

She steps closer, her bare feet whispering on the tiles, her hips swaying in a hypnotizing rhythm. Tugging on her hair tie, she frees her blond mane, and it tumbles over her shoulders. Her blue eyes glimmer like a cat’s in the low light as she steps into the shower with me.

“I want to unwrap you,” I whisper, reaching behind her and finding the clasp of her bra. I press her to me, so I can feel the moment her breasts spill out of the fabric. I growl when it happens, her nipples rubbing on my chest. “Goddamn beautiful.”

I throw the bra out of the shower stall and run my hands over her amazing breasts, over their fullness, their softness, their hard points. I torture her nipples with my hands, then bend to take them in my mouth, one by one, loving the moans rising deep in her throat.

Can’t hold back much longer. While I suck on her tits, I slide my hands lower, to her tiny panties, and push them down her legs, so I can touch her where I want.

“Oh my God,” she whispers, looping her arms around my neck, as I rub my thumb over her seam, as I find her clit and circle it slowly. “Holy shit.”

I look up and grin at her dazed expression, then go down on my knees. “Beautiful,” I repeat as I spread her wide and press my mouth to her, replacing my finger with my tongue. I circle her clit, torture it, then lick deep inside her, and she lets out a breathless cry.

Goddammit, I’m about to explode. My balls ache. My cock is twitching and weeping. I pull back and reach down, grab my dick and grit my teeth to keep from coming.

“Need you,” she mumbles. “Inside me.”

The warm water beats down on us. Her long hair is plastered to her body. I’m panting, and my blood is rushing in my ears. I should get up, but she doesn’t let me, lowering herself on top of me, satiny skin sliding against mine. I grab her hips and steady her descent, until she’s sitting in my lap, her legs splayed on either side of me.

Leaning forward, I kiss her mouth, and she parts her lips, letting me in. I thrust my tongue inside, the way I want to thrust my cock into her heat. Her hand slips between our bodies and finds my hard-on. Her fingers curl around it and squeeze.

I jerk, my whole body spasming with pleasure. I gasp in her mouth and grab her hand, stilling it. “Tess, dammit. I don’t have a condom here.”

“I’m on the pill. Please, Dylan…”

Jesus. My self-control unravels so fast it’s dizzying. I grip her hips, lift her up. She shifts to a kneeling position and places her hands on my shoulders. The way she’s looking at me—with desire, but also with trust—is my undoing.

I’ve never looked a girl in the eyes while getting hot and dirty with her, but now I can’t look away. As I lower her, impaling her on my hard-on, I stare into her eyes and read it all—the desire, the affection, the pain, the strength. The vulnerability.

Then it gets too much—the pressure around my cock, the feel of her around me, the emotions—and I have to close my eyes as she sinks lower. The pressure is rising behind my balls, inside my gut.

In my heart.

As she takes in the whole of me, settling on my thighs, I think I’ve died and gone to fucking heaven. Pleasure fizzles on every nerve end. Warmth spreads down my chest, down my spine. A fire burns in my veins. We hold each other, melded into one, and I don’t want to be anywhere else, ever.

My girl. The only woman I’ve ever really wanted.

I grab her hips and lift her, groaning at the sensation, the friction. So damn hot. Her nails dig into the back of my neck, and she throws her head back, then moans when I drag her back down.

Fucking hell. My stomach contracts, and I hunch over, gritting my teeth as her inner walls massage my hard-on in slow, maddening waves. A growl rumbles in my chest. The need to speed up, to lay her back on the warm tiles and fuck her until she comes is tightening my muscles—but I won’t.

Instead, I smooth my hands up her back and suck on her nipples, while lowering and lifting her—trying to ignore my throbbing dick and the tightening inside me that signals my approaching orgasm.

Not yet.