Page 100 of On the Ropes
“When I saw you at Benny’s that first night, I remembered thinking the word wowza,” I added.
“Wowza?” he drawled, eyebrow raised.
“Yeah, well, I might not have had a crush on you in school, but I’m sure my immediate and very awkward crush on you recently has been hysterical for you to witness.”
“You mean like the time you called me a Sports Illustrated cover model?”
I covered my eyes. “Yes. And all my other babbling attempts at flirting that have failed miserably.”
His lips ghosted across my jaw. “You’re wearing my shirt and naked underneath. Wouldn’t call that failed. And I like you flirting with me. A lot.”
His rough palm skated down my thigh, dipping under that shirt to grip my hip. His mouth was doing that leisurely neck-kissing thing that never ceased to turn me on.
“You liked it?” I asked, back arching as his hand roamed up my belly. The pads of his fingers circled lazily around my nipple. I bit down on my lip, as if making a sound would shatter a morning that felt removed from real life.
“You made me feel like my body was mine again,” he murmured. “Made me feel confident. Powerful. I liked you looking at me like you wanted me as badly as I wanted you.”
I trailed my nails down his back until I could grab his ass. He nipped at the crook of my neck with a harsh-sounding breath. “I did want you,” I whispered. “I do want you. If I’d had it my way, I would have dragged you to bed that first night.”
He made a noise that was part dark laughter, part low growl. Then he dropped his mouth to my shirt-clad breasts. With a hunger that sent waves of heat to my core, he sucked on my nipples through the fabric until I was boneless and writhing beneath him.
“Dean,” I gasped, pushing my breasts into his lips. “Your migraine. You’re not… Do you feel… Are you okay?”
With his other hand, he grabbed both of my wrists and gently held them over my head, pressed into the arm rest behind us. The action set my entire body on fire. His hips pinned me to the couch, face hovering a few inches over mine. When he kissed me, it was with a slow savor. A savor that turned commanding and possessive as he began rocking his cock against my bare sex. Grinding into me, swallowing every sound I made with a sweep of his tongue.
“How do I feel, Tabitha?” he asked, thrusting against my clit.
“Good,” I panted. He bit my ear. “Perfect, I mean. Hard. So hard, so…oh God.”
“Better than okay, then?” His grin was half-wicked, half-sweet.
I matched it, capturing his bottom lip between my teeth and tugging. “So now we’re cocky, huh?”
His quiet laughter sent me into that full-body shiver. As did his next kiss, the pressure of his fingers on my wrists, the deliberate movement of his hips between my thighs. With every slide of his cock through my folds I was climbing closer and closer to orgasm, splayed out on this couch with the morning sky still dark outside. He dragged his mouth down my cheek to my ear and began tonguing the shell, up and down. Sensation spiked through me. I nuzzled against him, urging on those lips, the scrape of his teeth offering a pinch of pain just when I needed it. His hand slid back under my shirt to thumb my nipple in strokes that matched his cock, that matched his tongue, and suddenly I was poised to explode.
“Yes…yes…,” I started to cry, eyes closed, head tipped back, needing all of it from him. But then he stopped all of his movements, and I groaned in protest. Dean gripped my chin and gave me a rough kiss.
“Not like this,” he growled. “In my mouth.”
Dazed and out of breath, I could only watch as he dropped down my body, shoved the shirt over my hips and propped my legs open wide. I was already shaking, so fucking close the slightest touch was going to set me off. I thread my hands through his hair, and his eyes found mine as he curled two fingers inside of me. My back curved off the cushions so dramatically Dean had to hold me in place. And then he pressed his palm over my mouth and firmly licked my clit, and I broke completely apart. I screamed against his hand as pleasure detonated outward from his tongue and his fingers, licking and fucking me through peak after peak of my orgasm.
He eased me through the aftershocks with an understanding born from the past five days of learning my body’s needs inside and out. The intimacy of that knowledge had me staring at him, wide-eyed, as he crawled back up with a look on his face filled with affection and lust and desire—an endless wanting that would have scared me if I wasn’t wearing the same expression. I shifted off the couch before he could settle on top of me. His lips quirked as I pressed him back and tore off his shorts. His cock rose, thick and veined, and I knew exactly what I wanted.
I took a second to admire him, his scars and chest hair, rippling stomach and powerful shoulders. With a pleased smirk, I straddled him so he could watch me tug my shirt off and send it flying across the living room. Through a tiny gap in the curtain, I caught the first glimpse of the sky over the row homes, beginning to lighten.
“Tabitha,” he groaned, gripping my hips and starting to move me. But I shook my head and kissed him instead, then took a long, long time kissing down his throat. His head tipped back, a strangled breath escaping when I reached his chest. Dean was so strong, and his body had endured so much, and he deserved to be worshiped the same way he’d so eagerly done. I let my lips and my mouth taste his skin, caress every flexing muscle as his fingers sifted through my hair. When I finally reached his cock, I nuzzled my cheek against it. It was like velvet over steel, and nothing made me happier than flattening my tongue at the base and dragging it to the tip while Dean’s lips curled into a primal snarl. He speared his hands into my hair, twisting it back. I waited, teasing him, stroking him gently with my mouth poised over the tip.
“Do it,” he commanded.
I took Dean’s cock into my mouth and let it sink as deep as I could to the back of my throat. I would never, for as long as I lived, forget the sounds he made—a husky, grateful moaning of my name that had me aching to come. I moved my lips as slowly as I could manage, enjoying myself, enjoying the view—flexing abs, his throat exposed, the way his teeth bit his bottom lip.
Dean had other ideas. Gripping my face gently, he sped up my motions, starting to fuck my mouth and rock his hips. I moaned around his skin, almost unbearably turned on.
“Your mouth is so hot,” he gasped. “So wet.” I hollowed out my cheeks and sucked even harder. “Fuck, Tabitha, what the fuck,” he spat out through bared teeth, and I’d never felt so needy and hungry. His hand slipped between us to palm my breast. My nails bit into the side of his ribcage. Maybe I was going to come like this without even being touched, just the pure erotic power of reducing Dean Knox-Morelli to these primal urges. But I shouldn’t have worried. Not a second later and his hands were locked around mine, tugging me up.
“I need to fuck you. Now,” he said, dark eyes glittering. I released his cock and nodded, speechless. I still wanted to take care of him, so I straddled his hips again as he settled back against the cushions.
“Condom?” I asked, hovering over him.
