“Yours,” she whispers and reaches down to free my hard-on.
My hand closes over hers. Together we push down my pants and let my cock spring out, hard, heavy and so damn ready. She grips me tightly, and I groan as she guides me between her legs. The sight of her, her scent, her hold on me will never get old, I know that.
I let go of her hand as she sinks on me, slowly, enveloping me inch by inch in her heat. I fall back on the pillows, and I bite down on a cry when she takes me in all the way, my back arching off the mattress. She pulses around my cock, muscles rippling, massaging me. Holding me inside her.
Hot. Tight. Fucking incredible.
I grip her hips, thumbs smoothing over her warm, silky skin, and she begins to move. I need to move, too, thrust into her, but I’m holding back, forcing myself still so she can take her pleasure.
She rocks on me, her breath catching every time she comes down, letting my hands help her rise every time. She’s all curves and shadows, and she whispers my name as she starts clenching around me.
“Oh, fuck.” That feels fucking crazy, the way she starts coming, tightening her grip on my dick. I can’t hold back any longer. I lose control. I lift her so I can thrust into her, again and again, faster, harder.
She cries out, convulsing around my cock as my orgasm slams into me, an avalanche of sensation, a torrent of pleasure rushing from the top of my head to the tip of my dick. I let out a breathless yell, my hips rolling, drawing out the pleasure.
Sensory overload. Holy shit. The world dims.
She bends over me, panting, and I draw her down, to lie on my chest. I bury my nose in her sweet-smelling hair, put my arms around her and promise I won’t ever let her go.
Chapter Sixteen
Tessa
Sunlight pours through the window, cutting a bright square on the floor. I sit at Dylan’s beside and hold his larger hand between mine. I like watching him sleep.
The disease hit him hard. Turns out he’s had it way longer than his brother. He’s really lucky it was caught before any serious long-time effects set in.
For a while the guys and I seriously thought about taking him to the ER, as his fever wouldn’t drop. But even half-delirious, he refused to leave his brothers, and eventually the drugs worked, and the fever went away.
He looks much better now, his color high, and his skin cool to the touch. He’s recovering, and he looks more peaceful than I’ve ever seen him. Calmer. Happier.
It was yesterday he said he loves me and wants me to be his girl, to move in and be with him. The memory makes me smile, and I lift his hand, kiss his knuckles.
He makes a sleepy sound like sounds vaguely like a protest and quiets again. Still smiling, I place his hand back on the covers and get up to go. I’m ready for work, dressed in clothes borrowed from Erin this time.
The thought makes me frown.
I send Dylan one last look over my shoulder, wishing I could sit here with him until he’s fine. As I gather my purse, keys and jacket from the living room, I wish for my own underwear, my books, my tablet, my favorite earrings. My notebook, my photo albums, my favorite shoes, all left in my apartment. Like a war refugee, that’s how I’ve been living for weeks now, because I’m afraid to go back.
Enough. I’ve had enough of my fear. I think of how Dylan fought his own doubts and fear to have me back in his life, and I almost turn back to his room, to kiss him again.
He offered several times to accompany me to my apartment. But this is something I need to do on my own. Face Sean, if he’s stalking me. Face my dad. Face the mess that I left behind and sort it out, meet with my college advisor. Meet with my mom and see how she can help me. She says she’s on my side. Time to check if it’s true.
Time to sort the good from the bad, the truth from the lies.
My time at work flies. Mr. Walker is there, and he spends a long time telling me about the people involved in this project, so I can get a better feel for what I’m supposed to do. He’s a great boss, and I’m grateful he gave me this job. I tell him so, and he smiles.
“You earned it,” he tells me, “with the interest you showed in the project. I choose a person to work for me because this person is enthusiastic about what we’re doing here, and you convinced me you are such a person.”
I spend the rest of my time at the office smiling—and let’s face it, not just because of Mr. Walker’s words.
Dylan loves me. Dylan. Loves. Me.
Unable to sit still any longer, I get up from my chair and do a little jig around my desk. I want to laugh out loud and scream my joy.
The secretary from the adjacent room winks at me, and I sit down quickly. I rub my hands over my flushed cheeks.
“Good news, honey?” she asks kindly.