Dean
“We’re closed,” I grit out, my voice strained. Mentally exhausted from being that close to Whitley and not able to touch her. Kiss her. Tell her how sorry I am and how much I’ve missed her. Working with her isn’t helping the situation any. Being that close to her but not being able to claim her is driving me out of my mind.
“It’s just me,” she says, her voice shaky and I whip around, not expecting Whitley to be standing there. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, “I forgot my keys.
“You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for, Whit,'' I say, gruffly. I’m the one that is sorry. Sorry for the loss of our baby. Sorry for leaving her when she needed me the most.
“I’m so angry at you,” her confession slips out, her voice just a little above a whisper. She inhales a shaky breath, glancing around the bar before letting her eyes land back on me. “How could you just take off like that and leave me behind?” The pain in her voice is fucking destroying me.
“I had to, Whitley. I couldn’t stay in this town anymore.”
“Why?” She demands, louder now, her voice rising. I rough my hands through my hair, tugging on the ends, trying to find the right words to explain to her how badly I had to get out of town.
“I was heartbroken. Couldn’t drive through town knowing my baby was laying in that cemetery instead of at home in her crib,” My voice cracks, remembering how dark that time in my life was, how I felt like I was suffocating.
“You left!” she shouts, “you just up and fucking left, Dean, without saying a word to me. We’d been dating for years, talkin’ about marriage and forever. You left me and her before the grass even had a chance to grow on her gravesite. You didn’t ask me to come. You didn’t ask what it would mean to me if you left. You just took off and spent ten years runnin’ all over the country, livin’ it up. I was left to pick up all my broken pieces and try to move on with my life!”
I scoff. She has no idea what I’ve been through.
“If you think what I was doin’ the last ten years was livin’, Whitley, then you don’t have a fuckin’ clue what I went through.”
“Then explain it to me!” She screams, her voice bouncing off the walls inside the bar, echoing in the silence.
“I’ve been running for years, Whitley. I’ve been to California to see the ocean and I’ve seen the sunrises in Colorado. Been jumpin’ from job to job, tryin’ to chase these demons out of my head. Wasted so many years trying to get the image of my baby in a casket no bigger than my arm outta my mind. But if I learned anything while I was gone, it’s that I can’t. That image is burned in my fuckin’ brain, Whit.” I go on, feeling completely unhinged. “But do you know what else lives there? Images of you ridin’ shotgun in my old two-toned truck, your hair blowin’ in the breeze. You beside me at the river, drinkin’ a sixer and baitin’ a hook. The way you looked the first night I laid you down. I have spent years moving everywhere but on, Whitley. I had to come home. I Had no clue what I’d do once I was in the same room with you, I just knew that I had to come back.”
I’ve ate up the distance between us while I spoke and now she’s in my arms, sobs racking her body. Her eyes meet mine as she clings to my shirt. I haven’t had her pressed against me in so long, I almost forgot what it felt like. I cradle her face in my hands, my eyes flicking back and forth between her steel gray ones. Using my thumbs, I swipe away the tears, sliding my fingers into her hair at the nape of her neck, tilting her face up.
“I’m so sorry for leavin’ like I did, but god damnitt Whitley Jean, I love you so much. I’ve loved you every day for the last twelve years.”
“It’s always been you,” she whispers, her lips trembling as she surges up on her toes and fuses her lips to mine. I drag my hands from her face to her hips, pulling her flush with my body and she melts into me, her body bowing back just slightly as I return the kiss, both of us desperate for the other. My lips are hard and demanding as hers finally soften, allowing me to slip my tongue between them. A groan vibrates from my chest as I trail one hand up her back, pressing her to me as her fingers skate through my hair.
My heart thumps harder as I sweep her legs out from under her and carry her to the office. The door crashes against the wall as I kick it open, the sound bouncing off the walls, a picture clattering to the ground with the force of it. With a sweep of my arm, I knock everything off the desk before depositing her on it.
I take a moment to take in the sight of her, lips swollen and her chest heaving. She slides her shirt up and over her head, letting it drop to the floor. My eyes move all over her, seeing her as a woman instead of the young girl she was the last time I had her like this. She’s filled out more, her breasts larger and her curves more pronounced but she’s still as gorgeous as ever.
Whitley
Dean’s eyes caress my body before he prowls towards me, reaching behind his head and tugging his shirt up and off, letting it land with mine. He’s so close to me, I can feel the heat radiating off him. My eyes hungrily consuming every inch of him. He’s leaner than he ever was as a young boy and he’s still just as handsome.
“Can I..” he stutters, “can I touch you?” He asks, reaching out with trepidation. I nod my head and he wastes no time, dragging his fingers over the curve of my shoulder and down my arm, his eyes blazing a trail right along with it. I reach out and slip a finger into his belt loop, tugging him closer. Alarm bells ringing in my head as I reach for the back of his neck, bringing his mouth level with mine. Danger, they said. Stay away, my mind screamed. But instead, I found myself whispering “don’t break my heart,” before pressing my lips to his.
Need rushes through me as I slip my tongue into his mouth and moan at the taste of him, like whiskey and regret. His lips are harsh, demanding and hungry. Kiss after kiss making me weak in the knees. One of his hand’s rests on the desk as the other travels from the slope of my neck to my hip, causing me to shiver. He grips my waist as I suck his bottom lip into my mouth, letting my hands roam his body, tracing the dips and crevices. Dean was always fit as a young boy but now he’s all sharp edges and hard lines and it’s lighting a fire deep inside of me.
He presses his cock against my stomach, proving just how hard he really is, and I’m scrambling to undo his belt and popping the button on his jeans. He captures my wrists in his hand and breaks our kiss, pulling back so we are eye level. A whimper slips out of me, my breathing ragged. Something akin to a growl rumbles out of Deans chest and I rub my thighs together, desperate for relief.
“I need you to be sure, Whit. Completely fucking sure that this is something you want because once we start this, this is it. There’s no turning back.”
“I’ve never been so sure about anything in my entire life.” I respond and suddenly his resolve snaps. Tearing my leggings down to my ankles and throwing them with the rest of my clothes, he slides his hand back up my thighs and rips my panties off me, stuffing them in his pocket. Holy fuck, that’s hot.
His rough hands snake a path down my stomach, landing back on my thighs and spanning the width of them, spreading my legs apart and gliding his thumb over my already dripping center. A moan pops out of me and Dean drops to his knees, pressing a kiss to the inside of
my thigh and dragging his lips closer and closer. He glances up at me and I drop back on my hands, my legs falling open wider. He parts the seam of my pussy with his thumbs, running his tongue through my folds and I cry out.
He flattens his tongue over my swollen clit, slipping two fingers inside me. The combination of the two has me pressing my pelvis towards his face, begging for more; harder, faster, please. He presses his hand against my stomach, laying me flat on the desk. He hooks one of my legs over his shoulder, taking advantage of the angle, curvin’ his fingers inside of me, going impossibly deeper.
“Oh my god, yessss,” I hiss as he sucks on my clit and pumps his fingers in and out of me relentlessly. He pulses his tongue against my clit and my orgasm tears through me, my leg around his neck locking him in place as he laps at me, his tongue working every single drop of my orgasm until I collapse against the desk, boneless and wrung out.
Dean stands, wiping his mouth and shucking his pants as I watch, still spread out on the desk. His jeans and belt drop, the metal clanking against the concrete floor. His cock stands at attention, thick and curved slightly at the end, cum already dripping from it.