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I cleared away the debris from our meal, and then reclaimed my seat, bringing another couple of candles with me. The sun had set by now, and it was fully dark, apart from the tiny dancing flames around us.
Event Horizon segued neatly into Pearl Jam—a song I recognised but couldn’t name. The moody vocals and haunting chords added to the ambiance. What would Dean do if I pulled out my camera and shot some pictures of him? His face by candlelight, half in shadow, called to me. I itched to capture the moment.
“Dance?” He held out a hand.
Entranced, I let him tug me to my feet and went straight into his arms. It was dancing in the loosest sense of the term. We swayed together to the music, on our private dancefloor. I never wanted the song to end.
I’d invite Dean to stay at my place. I didn’t think he’d refuse, but it didn’t hurt to check we were both on board with the idea.
“I know you said you were only interested in one night with me,” I whispered, “but we didn’t have a whole night, did we?”
“We didn’t.”
“So, if you want to stay here, with me, that’s okay. You know, to finish what we started.”
His lips crashed into mine. I’d take that as a yes. I let him sweep me along, but when he lifted his head, I said, “I need to shower first.”
“I want to watch.”
“Never mind Star Wars running deep in you; I think you have more than a hint of kinky in there.”
He smirked. “You only just realised that?” He cupped my breasts through the stretchy top, flicking his thumbs back and forth across the nipples. It made me hot and wet for him. “It has to work for you as well, though,” he said.
“Believe me,” I whispered. “It does.”
“Good.” His teasing of my nipples was merciless, and I squirmed, enjoying it far more than I would have guessed. “I plan to take my time with you tonight. Make you shout my name and beg me to fuck you.” He stole a kiss and nipped my lower lip. “I also want to fuck your pretty mouth again. That was hot.”
“What are we waiting for?”
“Hmm... Impatient, huh? I may have to work on that.”
Standing here, my arms around his neck, my ovaries doing a little cheerleader routine, I’d promise him anything. “How d’you mean?”
In response, he untangled my arms, swept them behind my back, and held my wrists in one large hand. “This. And more. Would that freak you out?”
More. My mouth went dry at the thought. “Like bondage?”
“Exactly.” His gaze burned into me. “Ever done that?”
“No.”
“Want to try it?”
I swallowed, not sure how clearly I could speak. Lust spiralled through me. “Yes, please.”
He smirked again. It suited him so well. “Good girl. We can stop at any time, remember.”
I thought back to the supposedly erotic movies that had been big in the cinema the past couple of years. “Do I need a safeword?”
“How about you say red if you want me to stop? Amber if you need me to slow down.”
“And green means I like it?”
“Green means you’re comfortable, feel safe—and yes, you’re fuckin’ loving it.”
“Cocky,” I teased.
His eyes darkened, the blue and green reflecting the candlelight in a myriad of sparkling pin pricks. “The things I’d like to do with you, pretty little sandy girl...” He dropped his head and brushed my lips with his, the zing lighting me up like a million-watt floodlamp.
This wasn’t chemistry. It was light-the-touchpaper-and-run before I burst into flames.
He released me, and cupped my face to give another soul-stealing kiss, his possession absolute. “Let’s go.”
I blew out the candles, and we finished the clean up together, before I took him upstairs, to my apartment.
It was hot and stuffy, as I predicted. I opened the windows, settled King with his dinner, and turned to face Dean. He leaned against the counter, hands in pockets. His gaze tracked my every movement.
“I’m going to take that shower,” I said. Before I chickened out.
He nodded and followed me the short distance to the bathroom. Like the rest of the apartment, it was small. A walk-in shower, a basin, and a toilet. It was fine for a single occupant that didn’t take up much room, and the lack of space meant I had to keep it tidy.
“Nice,” said Dean, behind me. “Now strip. Keep your eyes on me. Top first.”
My yoga vest was stretchy but tight fitting. It was difficult to wriggle out of it elegantly. I tugged the hem and yanked it up, hoping it didn’t get stuck as it sometimes did. I managed to peel it off without looking like an idiot.
“Drop it, and then put your hands on your head.” Dean’s voice was gravelly. He closed the distance between us, and when I complied, shaped my breasts with his hands. “These are perfect.” He dropped his head and sucked one nipple, and I squeaked at the contact, every nerve ending leaping into life.
He grazed his teeth across the sensitive bud, but then lifted his head, the smirk in place. “Now the pants. Leave your panties on.”
The cropped pants were easier to shimmy out of than the top was, and I left them on the floor. I stood there in my cotton panties, with Dean’s gaze eating me up.
“Mmm... Black and lacy,” he said. “They look good against your pale skin.”
“Thank you.”
If I was hot before, now I was burning up. When Dean stood at my side and stroked my pussy through the fabric, I thought I’d come right then. My lungs were tight, and my pulse rocketed along. Need bubbled in my veins.
His skilful fingers rubbed up and down, the friction from the cotton adding a new layer of urgency. He held my wrists again in his other hand, and I was unable to move.
I rolled my hips and tried to push into the movement, but he tutted and pulled back. “No, Steph. You take what I give you.”
“But I want to come.”
“Not yet.” He circled my clit, and my knees trembled. “Are we still green?” he asked.
“I guess so,” I grumbled.
“Say the word.”
“Green.”
“Good girl.” He swept a kiss across my lips. “Now take them off.”
“How?” I asked. He held my wrists.
“You’re going to have to ask me to do it for you.”
I liked this game. Very much. “Please, Dean. Will you take off my panties?”
“I’d love to. You have to keep your hands still. Okay?”
“Yes.” It came out breathless. We’d barely started, and I was on the verge of spontaneous combustion. Would I last the night?