“Dia, I love you,” I remind her. “But I’m not going to be the boyfriend you deserve until I sort my shit out.”
I feel like I’m just feeding her excuses at this point. I just wish she knew how much I mean them. Every second I spend with her feels dangerous. Like I’m breaking my own rules and tearing down walls I spent years building.
She doesn’t understand how strong my instincts are. It took everything for me to stop running and sort of be with her six months ago. And it’s going to take a lot more for me to stand still for the rest of my life.
She sighs. “I…”
Here we go.
She’s going to dump me.
“Thank you for being honest with me.”
Back the fuck up.
“What did you just say?” I blink at her.
She gives a weak smile. “I said thank you for being honest with me. I’m okay with waiting while you work on yourself.”
I blink at her.
Then my mouth is on hers before I can resist my impulses. There isn’t even a tiny part of me that gives a fuck about her parents sleeping down the hall as I slip my tongue past her teeth, making her lips my prisoner the way she did the black vessel in my chest.
“How are you even real?” I rasp against her parted lips, my hand gliding into her hair and gripping a fistful to facilitate access to her neck. I’m yanking her head back, needing to taste every inch of her and brand her skin with the thank-you she deserves.
I’m sorry I’m so fucked-up.
Don’t leave me.
Words I might say if I wasn’t so busy giving her the hickey of the century. Then my lips are back on hers, but this time, I’m not backing away. I kiss her until we’re damn near suffocating.
“Eager much?” Dia laughs through the kiss.
“Fuck yes,” I say shamelessly.
She seems to think I’m eager for something other than kissing because her hand curves around my cock—by the way, I’m so hard my briefs probably have a hole in them—and I catch her wrist, pulling her hand away.
“Not before you come.”
Before I realize what I’m doing, her shorts are on the floor, and her tan legs are wrapped around my neck. I need this. Maybe even more than she does. I feel so fucking undeserving of this girl. Of her golden heart and selfless personality. I feel as though I have to prove myself, and her moans are the only proof I’ll accept.
I have to dig my thumbs into her waist to keep her hips from bucking when I glide my tongue up her slit. I lick her up and down, testing the waters before diving in fully and devouring her pussy like it’s the only purpose worth devoting my life to. I eat her clit so fast and hard I have to hold her down, robbing her of an escape as she squirms in my arms.
I usually have to take my time with Dia. She tends to hold back, and I know her to need my fingers and my tongue to finish. Hence my surprise when her eyes snap open, disbelief mixing with her unassumed moans. I changed my mind.
They should make her moans heaven’s soundtrack.
It might just be because it’s been a while since I’ve taken care of my baby like this, but I still take pride in how fast she starts to shake. I can tell she wants the pleasure to last longer, and for once, she’s the one trying not to come.
“I’m still mad at you,” she whimpers in a weak attempt to convince herself that she’s the one in control. It’s obvious that she hates how fast I went from turning her down to tasting her pussy juices.
“I know, baby.” I ease her guilt, and that seems to be the permission she needs to let go because she peaks a moment later. I relish every second, sucking her clit inside my mouth and letting her come all over my face.
And I’m not done.
Not even close.
I intend to make her come at least five times tonight. Maybe even six before I have to sneak back out through her bedroom window. I’ve just untangled Dia’s boneless legs from my neck when the words she said to me echo in my brain.