Ashes, p.18
Ashes, page 18
I can feel his cock through his jeans, straining against the denim, pressing against the front of my blouse. I take the throb of his erection against me as an invitation and reach a hand between us, ready to palm him through his pants, but he stops me again.
“You first,” he insists. “But I want to watch.”
“Watch me what?” I ask.
He stands and steps away from me, and it’s as if someone has thrown a blanket over the sun. A different kind of chill invades my body, but he doesn’t break our contact for long.
He puts two fingers under my chin and lifts my face so our eyes meet. “Take off your shirt,” he says. He crosses his arms over his massive chest and waits.
I whip the damn scrap of fabric over my head and toss it aside. His face is pure lust. My bra is sheer; my nipples pebbled hard; the dusky outlines easily visible through the barely-there lace.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Change of plans.”
He bends and sweeps me into his arms, then sets me gently on my bed. He unfastens his belt and drops his jeans. He’s not wearing underwear, and his cock greets me happily, the bob of his impressive length reminding me of the last time. My body responds to the memory, to the sight, and to the anticipation.
He’s mine.
He’ll be mine forever.
I can’t look away, transfixed by his beauty, his power.
His muscular torso twists as he yanks off his T-shirt.
“Baaaaaby,” I mewl, begging him like the greedy bitch I am. I rub my thighs together as I watch him from bed.
I’m so wet just watching him, I can’t take it. My jeans are still on, but with the air on my bra, what little there is of it, I’m aching everywhere. My back arches, I’m curling my toes… Fuck, I might come if he just breathes on me at this rate.
But it’s good. It’s so good, the way he climbs onto my bed, kneels above me, straddling my body with his legs. His cock is so close, it nearly grazes my chest, and I try to wiggle my ass on the mattress to bring that tasty tip to my mouth. The barbell that’s pierced through the tiny ridge of tender skin on the underside of the head beckons to my lips. I want to tug that silver stud between my teeth, licking to soothe against the sensation until he cries my name, but again, he stops me.
“I wanna ravish your tits until you scream,” he promises. “And then, I’m gonna taste your come. After that, you can do what you want.”
“Too much talking,” I grit out, but I smile as I echo what he said to me earlier.
He holds both my wrists above my head against the mattress and adjusts his weight so his mouth is over my lacy cups. He tears away the fabric with his teeth and masterfully flicks the tip of one nipple with his tongue. I lose my breath and thrash against the hold he has on me, but it’s all instinct, all reaction.
I love it. I love him.
I love the flood of pleasure that pours from his mouth, nipping and laving my exposed tip raw. No one else could make my body react this way.
This is him. This is me. Us.
The lava in my core, the breathlessness of every second I wait for him to suck me deeper into his sweet, hot mouth, is so pure, I squint against real tears.
“Baby,” I beg. “Oh God, baby.”
He knows just when to switch to my right breast, the cool air meeting my swollen nipple and bringing with it another kind of sensual agony.
He releases my hands so he can cup both breasts, squeezing and sucking, kneading, and nipping until I’ve got my legs around his hips and am grinding against his length.
My jeans are a horrible barrier, my drenched panties sticky with the evidence of my want.
We’re wordlessly in tune as he tugs his mouth away from my tits and unbuttons my jeans, one agonizing button at a time. His face is flushed now, his lips puffy from working my body, and I want that mouth, those perfect, sensual lips, to taste the effect he has on me.
I don’t have to tell him, because he’s already between my legs. My panties are on as he strokes his fingers along the insides of my thighs.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “I could come just smelling you.”
I reach for my underwear, wishing he’d shred my panties the way he did my bra, but he swats my hand away.
“Mine,” he growls.
As if he’s read my mind, my panties are gone, literally, two scraps of fabric that split open at the seams under his fists. I know the feeling because right now, I want to burst, explode against the confinement of this pent-up need.
He tosses my panties, or what’s left of them, on the floor and kneels between my legs on the bed. His gaze is burning hot, and he puts one palm on the inside of each thigh and spreads my legs wide. He watches, taking in my trimmed pussy, the wetness of my arousal nearly dripping onto the bed. My legs quiver under his hot hands, but he holds them there and just looks.
His raw appraisal makes me feel even hotter, and I open my legs wider, tempting him to take all that’s his. And oh, does he take me. He drops his face to my pussy and breathes against the tender skin.
The cool air blasts my nerve endings before his tongue strokes liquid fire along my seam.
I buck against his palms, but he’s holding me firm, keeping me open. Now he’s the lion, and I am the meal as he feasts on my body. He flicks my clit with his tongue, lapping me until I’m even wetter.
I’m so on fire with need, I’m trembling and begging. Sounds are spilling from my mouth, my thighs are fighting a war they can’t win, but I’m no longer in control of my reactions. My body shakes and moans and moves as he wants it to, responding to him and him alone. When he frees one thigh, it’s only to move his hand to pinch my swollen clit between two fingers.
“Holy fuck!” I nearly launch off the bed, but I quickly settle back into a rhythm. His mouth against my opening, his fingers on my clit, and then, before I can prepare myself, three fingers thrust knuckle-deep inside. He doesn’t go in easy but hard, tugging his fingers against my walls until I’m shuddering and screaming, pulling his hair as I ride his face.
But I don’t just come once. He’s not going to let that happen. As soon as I stop screaming, he’s kneeling over me, his cock dangling against my mouth.
“Open,” he commands.
As if he even has to ask.
I lick my lips and grip his shaft with one hand. While I stroke the underside of his balls with the other hand, I lap my tongue against the tender pierced foreskin. I take the length of him into my mouth and wet him. When I close my lips around him, the piercing creates the slightest resistance, and he sucks in air, cursing and holding on to the wall behind the bed for support.
“Enough,” he grunts.
He’s on his back and tugs me up to sitting.
“Get on,” he demands. “I wanna watch your perfect fucking body while you ride me.”
I want the exact same thing. But not yet. I kneel above his chest, my tits raw from his teeth and tongue, my pussy already sated but somehow still ready for more, for him. I hold his face in my hands and gently kiss his lips, his nose, his chin.
He lies there, letting me show him how much I love him, exploring all the different ways this new thing between us feels and sounds. His eyes are closed, but they fly open when I move away from his face.
He watches my every move as I straddle his hips. I lower myself onto him slowly, letting every inch of my body expand to fit his size. “Oh…fuck,” I groan, dropping my head to his chest.
My hair falls into my face, and I’m dizzy as he fills me, his cock so long and thick, I can’t believe I have to ride him. But as soon as I adjust, I’m ready. I clench my thighs and throw back my head. My sweaty hair tangles over my shoulders as I lace my fingers through his. He locks his elbows so I can use his strength, gripping his hands while I work my hips in lazy, sensual circles on his erection.
I grind and work my hips on his, and his face goes hazy, his eyes smoky with emotion, passion. I speed up, his length hitting just the right spot while I tip my hips forward so the pressure on my clit matches the perfection happening inside.
“Baby, fuck!” I come again and again, pleasure spreading through my body. My nipples feel alive, on fire, my thighs burn as I clench against him. When I finish, panting and sweating, I don’t move, instead letting him take that moment to arch beneath me. He jerks his hips and thrusts, his sheer strength and size moving my body up and down on his cock. Our fingers still laced, my body flushed and raw, he roars, his essence flooding me. I feel the delicious drag of his stud inside me, adding that extra little bit of sensation that, fuck, we don’t even need. It’s dangerous how explosive we are together, and as we come down, cooling and sighing, it occurs to me that this is exactly what I thought I could have with him.
More than just fucking. More than just his enormous, tattooed body bringing mine the escape of a rough release. As I collapse against his chest, my knees are shaking and my thighs feel like twin rubber bands, loose and bendy.
He pulls me close, the smell of our sex heavy in the air. It’s delicious and decadent. It’s more than just his smoky-whiskey scent, the fresh air, clean sheets, and promises that made me want him in the first place. This is us, the union of what we become when we’re one. As I wrap my arms around his sculpted chest, I let my eyes flutter shut.
This is it. I know it is.
This is us.
This is love.
And it’s just the beginning.
22
Dylan
I stop walking, standing outside the front door with my fingers laced with Rosie’s. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
She tugs me forward, twisting the knob. “Don’t be silly. Everyone’s expecting you, and they’re excited.”
“Everyone?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Uh, yeah. The entire family is here.”
I yank her backward as she starts to take a step.
She lets out an exaggerated grunt. “Seriously?”
I tilt my head, needing the affirmation so I don’t walk into a shitshow without being prepared for the worst. “Even your dad? He’s excited?”
She nods, leaning into me and running her free hand over my chest. “Even my dad.”
I blink, still confused as fuck. The man has hated me since the day he laid eyes on me. “You’re lying to me, wildcat.”
“He knows he’s been wrong about you your entire life. We had a long talk, and he knows it’s time to make amends.”
“Make amends?” I repeat, no more clued-in than when we pulled in.
“He fucked up, and now he’s going to make sure you know he’s sorry.”
My eyebrows rise. “He’s going to apologize to me?”
She nods. “But I hope you’re willing to do the same since you’ve called him an asshole more than once.”
“Well, it’s not like he was nice to me.”
“He’s not nice to anyone, Dylan.” She flattens her palm on my chest, right over my heart. “You can either forgive each other and start fresh, or we’re going to have a very long and tension-filled life. I’m a daddy’s girl, and I always will be. So please, do me a favor and play nice.”
I wrap my arm around her back with her hand still clasped in mine. The position makes her back arch, pushing her tits against me. “I can do nice, wildcat.”
She laughs and smacks my front with her free hand. “I’m being serious.”
I waggle my eyebrows. “So am I.”
“Sweet Jesus. This is going to be a long day.”
I lean forward, bending my neck, and place a soft, chaste kiss against her lips. “Nah. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
Her eyes flutter open, and she smiles up at me with the purest, most beautiful smile. When she looks at me, I forget all the bad shit in my past and think only about her and the good things in my life.
“Can we go in now? My makeup is starting to melt.”
“You don’t need to wear that shit on your face. You’re so goddamn beautiful without it.”
She rolls her eyes. “I wear it for me and you. I like it. Why? Do you hate it?”
I shake my head. “No, wildcat. I don’t hate it, but I never want you to change who you are for me. I don’t think there’s a time when you’re more stunning than when you first wake up in the morning.”
“You’re so full of shit,” she mutters, finally pulling me into the foyer of her grandparents’ house. “We’re here!”
“Fuckin’ great,” I mutter, earning myself the stink eye from the princess of light.
“Behave.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I say, toeing off my boots in the foyer and pushing them into the neat little row that takes up half the space.
How many freaking people are here? Based on the number of shoes, sandals, and boots, it looks like half the town has taken up camp at the Gallo compound.
“Back here!” a woman yells back, but it isn’t her grandmother’s voice.
“Is your entire family here?” I ask, not moving as quickly as she’d like since she’s pulling me forward with all her might.
“Yep. All of them.”
“Fuck,” I hiss, hating this.
Maybe if I’d grown up in a family instead of with only my father and brothers, I wouldn’t be shit at being around other people’s families. But here I am, shitty with my people skills and never one to worry about hurting any feelings. But I can do this. I did it the other night with her grandparents, and I didn’t come off like a complete jackass.
“Dylan,” her grandmother says, walking toward us with her arms extended.
I freeze for a second, because no one in my family greets one another with a hug. You’re lucky if you get a damn hello or so much as a grunt of recognition.
“Hey,” I say as my arms open on their own like she’s somehow controlling my movements.
Her hug is firm and short before she backs away, still holding on to my arms. “We’re so happy you’re back.”
“I’m honored to be here,” I tell her, and I’m being sincere.
Rosie rolls her eyes again before laughing at me, knowing I’m on my best behavior and not acting entirely like myself.
“I hope you brought your appetite because if you leave here hungry, it’s your own damn fault, baby.”
I smile at her, loving the ease of the woman. “I’ll eat everything I can.”
“Good,” she whispers.
“Lemme see him,” a woman as old as Rosie’s grandmother says, moving right past my girl without as much as a hello.
“Aunt Fran. Wait,” Rosie says, holding up a hand. “Oh, forget it. Good luck,” she says to me and laughs as she finally drops her arms.
I stare down as this little woman stalks right up to me, reaches out, and starts rubbing on me like we’ve known each other our entire lives and have been intimate for just as long too.
“Oh, he’s nice,” she says as her hands continue to roam. “Firm and young. Best combination.”
“Dylan, this is our very handsy aunt Fran, Sal’s sister,” Grandma Gallo explains. “Don’t pay her any attention. She just enjoys men and likes to piss off her husband.”
My eyebrows go up immediately. “Her husband?” I ask, horrified as I glance around, waiting to get my ass kicked by an old man.
“You’re from around here. Do you remember a biker named Bear? He was probably already old before you left.”
“Bear?” I whisper and swallow, feeling all the color drain from my face. “Um, yeah. He’s kind of hard to forget.”
“Woman,” barks the voice I heard a dozen times as a kid, calling me a pissant and a nuisance. He stalks into the foyer with his eyes staring straight at Fran. “Can’t you ever leave the young ones alone?”
“You mad?” she asks him and doesn’t stop touching me. She doesn’t even look his way to ask the question.
Fuuuck.
“Baby, I see I need to teach you another lesson about who you belong to.”
She looks up at me with the sweetest smile and licks her lips. “You know how much I love that, baby. Sometimes I need a special reminder.” She winks at me, and I almost die of embarrassment. “See,” Fran whispers, giving me a wink. “Works every time.”
“Walsh,” Bear says, staring at me up and down as he wraps an arm around his woman and pulls her against him. “You haven’t changed a bit in the last…what? Ten years?” He extends a hand to me, something he never did when I was young.
I stare down at his open palm, wondering and thinking it may be a trap. But then I give in, knowing I have to trust someone eventually. “More like seventeen, sir.”
“Hmm. Manners? Never had them before,” he says to me, raising one eyebrow as if he’s not convinced I’m a different man than I was when I was eighteen.
“Growing up will do that to a person,” I reply as he releases my hand, and Rosie slides up next to me, holding my arm.
“Be nice, Uncle Bear. I’m sure you’re not like your eighteen-year-old self.”
Bear laughs loudly. “I don’t know how I survived. I had a death wish and a bad attitude.”
Rosie’s father enters the foyer with his wife next to him. “Attitude’s still intact, old man,” Joe says to Bear.
“Piss off with old-man shit.” Bear ticks his chin toward Joe, eyeing the salt-and-pepper in his hair. “You aren’t young anymore.”
I’m so focused on Bear and Joe, I don’t notice Suzy Gallo, Rosie’s mom, as she walks up to us. And without warning, she pulls me into an embrace. “Thank you,” she mutters into my T-shirt. “Thank you for saving our Rosie.”
I peer over at Rosie, and she shrugs. “Go with it,” she whispers. “She’s emotional.”
Suzy pulls her head back, glaring at her daughter. “And you’re not? You cry every time the ASPCA commercial comes on television.”
“Mom, those poor animals,” Rosie says in the saddest voice. “I want to save them all.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. You two are every sob story’s dream and total suckers. I don’t even want to know how much you’ve sent them over the years,” Joe says, running his hand down the side of his beard.
Suzy looks away from her husband and stares up at me with the same blue eyes as her daughter. “I hope you’re hungry. We have a lot of food,” she says, skating over the money issue for the animal charity.
