I cried out, my hips bucking slightly at that. “Dean!”
He bit lightly at the tip, then his hair brushed against my breast, and I heard the sound of the foil packet tearing. His hands moved away from mine for a moment—too long a moment—as he put on the condom. Then, one hand slid down my thigh, hooking my leg around his hip again, and his mouth devoured mine once more. Hard, fast, wet, his tongue thrust into my mouth. The cradle of my hips lay against his erection again, his hips circling and moving ever so slightly against my own spread legs.
“You ready, baby?” he whispered against my mouth, and I felt his hand tug at my other leg, the only thing supporting me other than the two immovable objects I was wedged between.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back, biting at his lip. He growled low in his throat and lifted me off the ground, ever so slightly, my back sliding up the slippery wall. The head of his c**k probed against me, and before I could suck in a breath, he slid me down on the hard length of it, spearing me and bracing me against his own hips.
My breath shuddered out of my throat, my arms clenching tight around his neck. Amazing. Holy God. His hands slid to my ass, and his hips moved slightly as if settling me against him, and the slight motion made all the breath whisper out of my throat again.
He pressed an open-mouth kiss to my lips. “Feel good?”
All I could manage was a shuddery gasp, and I dug my fingernails into his shoulders. Dean rocked his hips slightly again, and the small motion made friction happen in just the right places, and I gave another weak gasp.
“Abby,” he whispered against my mouth, thrusting slightly again, his fingers digging into my hips. “God, you are so f**king sexy.” Again, a small thrust and wriggle, and the pulse of friction that shot through my body. My legs locked around his hips, and I squeezed my inner muscles the next time he thrust, and he moaned against my mouth as well.
The next thrust was harder, more forceful, more friction. The next, too, and his arms were cords of steel as they locked my hips against his, shoving me back against the wall, thrusting slightly. Those gentle, deep thrusts were undoing me more than anything I’d ever experienced before, and it wasn’t long before my hips were bucking slightly against his own, increasing the friction, and I began to shudder, gasping as an orgasm ripped through me in slow, steady waves. The feeling intensified as he thrust into me again, rapidly, and I felt his strong body tremble against mine, a groan escaping his mouth as he pressed me against the wall so hard that I thought I’d sink through it. I clung to him, body slick and trembling as he finished his orgasm and slowly released my rubbery legs, sliding me back down to the ground, our bodies separating.
He wasn’t done with me, though. His hands moved to my wet hair, brushing it off my face and planting several more hot kisses on my dazed face. “I’m sorry—that didn’t last as long as I wanted it to.” Dean’s hands slid to my waist, a possessive gesture.
Was that him not at his best? His worst was better than my last boyfriend’s ‘best.’ “Short is good,” I said weakly. “The water’s getting cold.”
He pressed another possessive kiss on my mouth. “Next time we’re doing it on the bed.”
Next time? My mouth curved slightly at that… and then my stomach rumbled. He laughed and I gave a small chuckle. “Can we eat our food first?” I said in a small, plaintive voice. “That pizza looked amazing.”
We turned off the shower and his hand went to the small of my back, steering me back out of the bathroom in an intimately possessive gesture. The colorful sarongs were the only things we had to wear, so I wrapped up in one while Dean knotted the other at his waist, the fabric slinging low on his hips. Low enough to make me breathless. He caught my glance and the self-confident smile slid over his face. “There’s more for you later, baby.”
I rolled my eyes at his cocky, teasing voice, drying my hair with the towel and then discarding it on the floor. Dean moved ahead of me into the living room where the food was laid out, and it took everything I had not to race past him to get to the food first. There would be plenty for both of us, but it was hard to quell the competitive edge to my starvation.
Dean moved to the far side of the table, but instead of sitting down, he grabbed his seat-pillow and dragged it over by mine so we could sit together. He patted the pillow next to his. “Come, sit. We’ll eat our way from one side of the table to the other.”
Sounded good to me—I moved to sit next to him and curled up on my cushion, legs crossed. There was a bucket of ice and Corona nearby, and Dean pulled two beers out, twisting the cap off mine with his bare hand and then handing it to me. Quite the gentleman. I took a sip of the beer and closed my eyes. “Heaven.”
I took another sip, washing the flavor in my mouth slowly, savoring it, and looked over to see Dean doing the same. Well, sort of. His gulps were twice the size of my sips, but he had the same blissed-out expression. My stomach growled again, and the sight of all the amazing food was too much to wait any longer for—I grabbed one of the thick brown plates and handed him one, taking the other for myself, and began to load it up with food, tasting as I went. There were chicken wings with buffalo sauce, celery sticks with dip, potato chips, pretzels, pizza, hot dogs, chili, and just about everything you could imagine for a tailgate party. Except football, of course. I laughed as I accidentally spilled some of the chili on my fingers and Dean leaned over and licked it off my hand. “Do you think they’re going with a theme here?” I asked.
He nodded, then took enormous bites out of the relish-covered hot dog in his hand. “They’re going to see how sick they can make us,” he said around bites.
I didn’t care—I grinned and took a bite of the pizza and gave a moan of delight at the taste. If I never ate again, I’d still die happy.
Dean glanced over at me and smiled, a boyish look. To my surprise, he reached over and grabbed my left hand as I reached for a beer and examined it with great curiosity, his emphasis on my fingers. Then, he looked over at me, relieved. “Not married?”
He’d been looking for a wedding band. My heart skidded to a stop. “No,” I whispered.
“Boyfriend?” He asked, trying to keep his voice light as he released my hand and reached for another beer. He didn’t look me in the eyes.
“No boyfriend,” I said in a small voice. The world crashed down around me, a little. Okay, a lot. “You?”