Page 100 of Dream House
I feel it rise in her, an erotic wave of promise and pleasure. When she opens her mouth, panting against my mouth, I know innately how hard, how deep, and how fast to thrust. She breaks the instant I know she will, shuddering, softening, breathless and boneless beneath me.
“Oh God… Oh God…” she mutters between inhales. Her sweat mingles with mine. I can feel her pulse around my fingers, and this?
This is life.
I kiss her again, slowly, gently this time, easing my hand from her. And even though I’m not in her anymore, for a long, blissful moment, I am still with her.
The rise and fall of her chest steadies, and she blinks like someone waking from a dream. “I—I didn’t expect that.”
My laugh is a low rumble. “That makes two of us.” I squeeze her sweet thigh. I need to keep touching her. The look on her face tells me she’s already questioning what we’ve done, and I can’t let her regret anything. “I didn’t expect it, but I sure as hell wanted it.”
Stella smiles, but I know her. I know how things were after that night outside her bedroom. When the energy between us was so intense, it’s a wonder we didn’t knock each other down. She was practically a missing person after that close encounter.
Now that we have collided, I have to make sure she doesn’t disappear. I want to ask her if she’s okay, but somehow I know I can’t reach her with words.
I lean in and kiss her with slow, languid pressure. When I draw back, I still read a question in her eyes, so I lean down and kiss her again. Longer and slower this time.
The next time our eyes meet, her smile is easier. Softer.
I kiss her a third time. Slow. Gentle. No demands. Only reassurance.
I thought I’d be satisfied bringing her to orgasm, giving her that kind of pleasure. But now I realize it’s not enough. Not enough for me.
And I’m not talking about my pleasure. Yeah, my dick is still a steel bar wedged against her, but that’s not what I’m thinking about. I want to see to her.
I want to be with her.
And I don’t want her running away.
If she let me join her in her bed, I could hold her until morning. Pretty damn hard to run away if my arms are wrapped around her. And that big, white bed of hers would give me plenty of room to spread her legs, dive in between them, and fuck her with my mouth.
I open said mouth to ask this most integral of questions, but a sound from upstairs cuts me off.
A door opening.
Stella goes rigid beneath me.
Someone upstairs steps out onto the balcony. The footfalls aren’t light or delicate. Not Nina’s, or Livy’s, or Pen’s.
A man’s.
It’s only when Stella’s grip on my hair tightens that I realize I’ve tensed, ready to intercept whoever has found his way upstairs. But Stella surprises me.
“It’s Tyler,” she whispers.
Tyler. Upstairs. In Nina’s room.
I’ll be damned.
Good for him.
And why the hell is he coming down?
I want to utter all of these thoughts, but when I open my mouth, Stella places her other hand over it.
“Shhh.”
Tyler makes his careful way down the stairs, and I hear his footsteps move into the dining room and fade into the kitchen.
