My heart is pounding. Holy hell, I’m insanely turned on. So is he—I feel the proof of it when he grips my ass and yanks me against him, grinding our lower bodies together.
“You get me so fucking hard,” he growls.
He rotates his hips, bending slightly so his shaft lines up in the cradle of my thighs. Then he rocks forward and his erection rubs over my clit, triggering a shockwave of pleasure that sizzles along my spine.
“Naked,” I choke out. “Now.”
With another chuckle, he ignores the frantic request and kisses me again. His lips are as greedy as before, utterly dominating, and just when I think this frenetic, passionate make-out session couldn’t possibly get any hotter, Dean abruptly slows it down. His tongue tickles my bottom lip. His perfect teeth give it a tiny nip. Then he buries his face in my neck and lavishes it with soft, open-mouthed kisses that leave shivers in their wake.
Since he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to get naked, I take matters into my own hands. I capture the hem of his sweater and draw the heavy material upward. I get it up to his collarbone, and he lifts his head to help with the rest of the way. The moment his sweater comes off, I eagerly sweep my palms over his warm, bare flesh.
He makes a husky noise and threads his fingers through my hair, watching me with lust-filled eyes as I caress his chest.
This guy is built. I damn near purr with happiness as I explore the hard planes of his chest. I trace each sculpted pec with my index finger, then target one flat nipple and press down on it. He jerks, his breathing going heavier. I trail that same finger down the line of dark blond hair leading to his waistband, then flatten my palm and stroke the defined ridge of his abs.
Dean’s lips find my neck again. With deft fingers, he works the material of my shirt up and eases it over my head.
He sucks in a breath. “No bra?”
“Seemed redundant.”
Pleasure ignites inside of me when he cups my breasts. He sweeps his thumbs over my nipples, and groans softly. “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to play with these tits again.”
My head lolls to the side, and he takes advantage and licks a path from my neck to my ear. He sucks lightly on the lobe and I sag against his warm chest, losing myself in sensation. Dean continues to tease my nipples, but uses only the pads of his fingers. He’s barely making contact, and my nipples tighten painfully every time his fingertips ghost over them.
“Perfect handful.” He squeezes both breasts, his thumbs dancing along the underside of each one. “And these nipples. Jesus Christ, baby.”
He dips his head, and I cry out when he flicks his tongue over my right nipple. After all that tortuous non-attention, the firm, purposeful lick he gives me is like an electric shock through my body.
“Hell yeah,” he groans. “I could suck on these sweet little nipples all night long.”
And then he follows through. At least with the sucking part. He closes his lips around the hard bud and draws it into his hot, wet mouth.
“Oh fuck.” I gasp.
“Feel good?” His breath tickles my breasts as he kisses his way to my other nipple.
“Mmm-hmmm.”
“Is it making you wet?”
I mumble something unintelligible, because he’s licking playful circles around my nipple and I no longer remember how to create words with my mouth.
“What was that?” he teases.
More gibberish comes out. “Mmrrmblergh.”
Dean laughs. “Okay then. I guess I’ll have to find out for myself.” He hooks both hands under my waistband and tugs my leggings and panties off. After I kick them away, he wastes no time bringing his hand between my legs.
I don’t expect it when he slides two fingers inside me. “Oh my God,” I moan. The wave of pleasure nearly knocks me off my feet.
“Jesus. You are wet. Dripping wet, baby.” A growl leaves his mouth. His eyes are feral, glittering. “If I don’t lick this pussy right this second, I’m going to lose my mind.”
I expect him to push me onto the bed. He surprises me by backing me up against the door. He sinks to his knees and wrenches my legs apart, and I shiver when I see him peering up at me, lust darkening his gaze. He licks his lips and I almost come on the spot.
Dean smiles wickedly when he sees my expression. “You want my mouth on you? My tongue?”
I manage a jerky nod.
When his mouth nears my core, I make a strangled sound.
When his tongue finds my clit, someone else makes a sound.
It’s not me, and it’s not Dean, and as Hannah’s cheerful voice echoes in the hallway, the two of us freeze in place. Me on my feet, Dean on his knees, as if we’re performing a perverted tableau for a live audience.