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Chapter Thirty-Eight

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“I can’t be gentle with you tonight,” said Dean, his voice rough. “I’m going to take what I need.”

His words were probably intended to scare me, but I was stronger these days. I couldn’t ignore the zing of dark excitement that unfurled in my gut. “That works,” I said, trying to sound calm, “but I want to know where you’re hurt.”

In reply, he skimmed his hands up my sides, his frown deepening. “You’re wet.”

“Not much. Don’t change the subject.” Being so close to Dean made me breathless.

Amusement flashed in his eyes. “Steph, I’m the one in charge here. My rules. Not yours.”

“So take charge, then.”

His eyes darkened, and he slid his hands under my ass, to lift me up. I slung my arms around his neck and clung to him. He stood, walked a couple of steps, and then turned around and sat on the sofa, still holding me tight.

Next thing, he crashed his lips to mine. He was hungry and needy, and he just about devoured me.

Desire, a simmering heat in my belly, surged to life, and I kissed him back. He tasted of vodka, unsurprisingly. Gods, how I missed him. Missed this. It’d only been a few days, but it felt like a lifetime.

He lifted his head. “Take your shirt off,” he said. “And your vest. I want to see your gorgeous tits on display.”

I was tempted to strip slowly, to drag out the process, but the heat in his eyes was scorching. I needed this too. I popped the buttons open rapidly, before pushing the damp fabric off my shoulders and slipping out of the sleeves. My lace-trimmed camisole was next. I tugged it up, but before it was over my head, Dean’s warm hands were splayed on my back, his lips tugging at each nipple in turn. I wore no bra today, and I was glad.

It felt like electricity arcing from my breasts to between my legs. I was wet there too, but not from the rain. I squirmed in his lap, and he chuckled against my skin.

“I’m not going to let you come yet. You have to earn it.”

Forming coherent words while he had his mouth on me was impossible. Pleasure sang in my bloodstream, headier than the strongest cocktail. Dean was my drug of choice, and I planned to OD tonight.

He rasped his teeth across one pert bud, and I groaned. How I’d craved that little sting of pain... I wanted more.

As though he heard my thoughts, he released my nipple with a pop, and then blew across the wetness.

I sucked in a breath at the change in sensation. When I looked down, my tits were standing to attention, begging for his touch. I was tangled in my camisole. That had to go. I wrenched it over my head and dropped it on the floor.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and I smiled. I missed that, too. Hell, I missed everything about him.

“I want you bent over the arm of the sofa,” he said. “Ass in the air.” He squeezed my butt through the denim skirt I wore. “Stand up and take this off. Panties too. And then lean over the arm.”

I stole a quick kiss, and he growled.

“What’re you waiting for?” he asked.

I loved the way his gaze ate me up when I stood in front of him and shimmied out of my skirt. The anticipation of what was coming was a thrill that buzzed through my veins. I’d never tire of this. Of Dean. And if I could only have him for a short while, I’d wring every delicious second out of our time together.

I hooked my thumbs into my panties and tugged them down. Stepped out of them. Stood naked in front of him.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Give me a colour, Steph. Are you green?”

Even though he threatened to be rough with me, he had enough control to check I was okay. How could I not fall in love with him? Little things like this made me want to swoon. “Very, very green.”

He licked his lips. “I don’t see you bending over.”

I complied. I positioned myself with my legs apart, feet on the carpet and hands gripping the arm of the sofa, and waited. Was he going to spank me? Fuck me? Or both?

Dean took his time, standing and coming to me. He hummed his approval, and then caressed the curve of my butt. “Still green, baby?”

When he called me baby, I’d agree to anything. “Yes. God yes. Fucking emerald.”

He stroked me some more, a gentle sweeping touch that teased. The slap came out of nowhere. I wasn’t braced for it, and fuck, it stung. The second was on the other cheek, and then two more in swift succession. All hard. They drove the air from my lungs in shock, each strike setting my skin on fire.

My head spun, and my ass burned, but I was soaked between my legs. Talk about being turned on. I wanted him inside me.

“Your ass looks so pretty now,” he rumbled behind me. “I think you can take more. Tell me you’re green.”

I didn’t have enough breath to squeak, let alone speak. I gasped for air and found my voice. “Green,” I whispered.

“Good girl. Count with me. I want you to take another six.”

Six? I wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week. I’d love every second of the discomfort. It would remind me of tonight.

Smack. It reverberated through me. “One.”

Smack. He hit the top of my leg. “Two.”

The spanking continued. I whispered the count with each strike. The fire roared up from my ass and threatened to consume me whole. It was freaking amazing. Every worry, every insecurity fled. I was reduced to a creature of sensation. Waiting for the next smack. Whimpering when he hit, but my blood singing at the same time.

Sex,” I whispered, and he chuckled.

“You were supposed to say six. Still with me, Steph? Give me a colour.”

It felt as though I was floating. My ears buzzed, and the roar had softened to a steady hum. He wanted me to give him a colour. My reactions were slow. I could have been walking through molasses. A colour. I saw rainbows and shooting stars when I closed my eyes. How could I pick a single one? This was the best high ever.

Dean nuzzled his lips against the small of my back and nudged my legs wider apart. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Give me a colour. I want to fuck you so bad, but I won’t, until you tell me green.”

“Green.” I had to force my mouth to work, my tongue to speak, but I got the word out.

“Mmm huh.” He unzipped his jeans. There was a crinkling of foil.

Every sound was amplified. Every part of me was alert and waiting. Needing. When he closed his hands around my burning ass, I whimpered, but in good way. The press of his dick against me was brief. He lifted me a fraction, changed the angle, and pushed into me in one solid glide.

Fuck. It was beyond perfect.

Dean groaned. “You feel like nothing else.” He pulled out to the tip, before slamming back in. Hard. And again.

He rode me, driving hard and deep, fucking me like never before. With his hands squeezing my breasts and pinching my nipples, I surfed the edge of pain, climbing higher with each thrust. It was as though he redrew my circuits, wiring me for his touch. I moaned and cried his name, and I’m pretty sure I was begging him, too. Pleading with him to let me come. He teased and tormented me, taking me to the edge and then backing off.

His rhythm faltered, and he grunted. “So good, baby. I can’t hold back.” He’d been stroking around my clit, and now he rubbed it, making my hips jerk and my back arch.

“Come for me, Steph.” He pinched the little bud, and I shouted his name as I tumbled headlong into an earth-shattering, world-changing climax.

Dean followed, groaning as he came. He slumped over my back, but I was still floating.

Things went fuzzy after that, like waking from a dream. Dean must have disposed of the condom, and we moved, but I didn’t pay attention until I found myself wrapped in a blanket, sprawled across his lap.

Dean stroked slow circles on my arm and smiled at me when I looked up. “Hey,” he said. “Welcome back.”

I reached up for a kiss. “That was”—I sought an adequate word—“amazing.” I wanted to curl up against him and never move. Part of me knew this couldn’t last, but I’d take it while I could.