Dillon straightens, pulling my legs up a little, and this new angle is even better. Pivoting his hips, he pounds into me with almost animal savagery. Sweat glistens on his chest as he maintains a punishing pace, and his stamina is as impressive as his skill.
Screaming his name, I detonate like a firework on the Fourth of July, sparking across the universe in bursts of colorful light that seem never ending. Before I’ve come down from my high, he flips me over and yanks my butt up, nudging my thighs farther apart with his legs. I have no time to recover when he rams into me again, and I scream from the pit of my lungs as he slams into me like a madman. Digging his fingers into my hips, he thrusts powerfully inside me, hard and fast, before he yells out as his own release reaches its peak.
Dillon continues thrusting, holding my hips steady, until he’s milked his climax. Then we collapse on the bed in a tangled sweaty heap, both of us struggling to get our breathing under control. His arms band around me from behind as we spoon. After a few minutes, he brushes my hair aside, nipping at my neck. “Well, Vivien Grace? Did I live up to my promise?”
I have never been fucked like that, and there’s no contest—that was definitely the best sex of my life. Twisting around in his arms, I sweep my fingers across his cheek as I smile. “Yeah, baby. You definitely did.”
* * *
I can barely walk the next day when I eventually surface from bed and stagger into my en suite bathroom to pee. We got home just after five, and we fucked relentlessly for hours, desperate to explore one another and all the ways we could induce pleasure from our bodies. So, I’m currently running on fumes and a few hours’ sleep.
Staring in the mirror as I wash my hands, I survey the faint bruising on my breasts, my hips, and the inside of my thighs and the two hickeys on my neck with an amused smile. Perhaps I’m sick in the head, but I love seeing his marks on me. Love feeling the pulsing ache between my thighs, knowing he fucked me good last night.
Allowing my mind to wander to Reeve, I test my emotions, and, nope, I’m good. I have zero regrets. Dillon blew my mind last night and then some. There is no part of me that regrets sleeping with him. I brush my teeth before heading back into the bedroom, where Dillon is stirring.
“Ugh.” Dillon pulls my special pillow down over his head. “Make it stop.”
My cell is vibrating across the bedside table, so I grab it and crawl back into bed. Dillon’s arm juts out, and he pulls me back into his chest, nudging my ass with his morning wood. My pussy pulses with need like the greedy cunt she is as I retrieve my messages.
I have several from Ash, asking me to call her when Dillon leaves to head home. That can only mean one thing—she spent the night with Jamie. Hoping she doesn’t regret it, I read Audrey’s message next. She wants me to call her the instant I wake, no matter what time it is. That doesn’t sound good, and my spidey senses tell me it’s something Reeve-related.
“Why the sigh?” Dillon asks, dotting kisses along my bare back.
“It’s nothing,” I lie, not wanting to talk about my ex.
“You sure?” He grazes his teeth along my neck, and I close my eyes as he jerks his hips against my ass.
“Yep.”
His fingers slide around my waist and creep lower. “Are you sore?” he whispers against my ear, sending a flurry of tingles along my sensitive skin.
“Not that sore,” I confirm, eagerly parting my legs for his hand.
He dips two fingers inside me. “Always so wet. I fucking love it.” Slowly he pumps his fingers in and out of me while his other hand kneads my breast. Anticipation coils in my belly while he rolls a condom on, and I’m reveling in the newness of our intimacy. When he slips into me from behind a few minutes later, I let loose an appreciative moan, arching my back and pivoting my hips in sync with his thrusts. He’s gentler today, and while I hate I can’t see his face or kiss him, I love this angle and how it grants him access to touch me everywhere.
We both come within seconds of each other, and we lie there, silent and sated, pressed as close as two people can be. Dillon dusts kisses all over my neck, my shoulders, and my back, and I could happily stay like this all day. Until my tummy rumbles, reminding me it’s been hours since we ate. “I think that’s my cue to get us some breakfast.”
“Brunch, you mean,” he says over a yawn. “It’s already one.”
Kissing his strong arms, I slide out of the bed, perching on the edge of the mattress while I pull pajamas out of my drawer. The bed jolts behind me, and Dillon curses. I whip my head around to see what’s wrong. Dillon is on his knees, with his back facing me, his fingers frantically searching the bed. I lean over, placing a hand on his back, and he jumps. “What’d you lose?”
“My, ah, mobile phone. I think it went down the back of the bed.”
I frown, glancing around the room until I see his bag on the floor under wrinkled clothing. Getting up, I move to it, finding his phone under his crumpled pants. “I found it.” He buries his face in the pillow as I approach, and I set his phone down on the table. “What’s the matter?”
“My head is pounding,” he says, his words muffled as he speaks into the pillow. “Could you get me some tablets.”
“Of course.” I press a kiss between his shoulder blades before heading out to the kitchen.
When I return a few minutes later, he’s sitting up against the headboard, cradling his head in his hands. Slivers of buttery light filter through the blinds, casting him in a golden light.
I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
The comforter is bunched at his waist, and his naked chest is a work of art. He’s all smooth skin, defined curves, and ripped muscles. The ink on his body only adds to his hotness, and I wish I could capture this moment on film. His hair is sticking up all over the place, disheveled from my fingers, but he still looks sexy as fuck.
Dillon could easily be a model if the rock star thing doesn’t work out for him.
“Here.” I hand him a glass of water and two pain meds.