Page 55 of Love You Truly

He nods and licks his lips. Then he pushes me backward, and I topple onto the bed with Dash on top of me. He holds himself above me, and I reach up to run my hands over his muscled arms.

“Don’t move a muscle. Just let me make you feel good.”

“Seriously?”

Bending to kiss me again, Dash sweeps his tongue along the slit of my mouth until I open for him. His tongue melts against mine and answers my question ten times over. Moving down my body, Dash pushes my shirt up, exposing the skin of my stomach. The cool air in my house gives me goose bumps. Oh wait, no…that would be Dash doing that with his tongue.

“Yes,” he growls.

Holy moly. A girl doesn’t need to be told twice to lay still.

I’m pretty certain Dash has a magic tongue. Everywhere he touches me, my skin flames up like he’s igniting kerosene with a lighter. I shudder as he reaches his hands up, pushing my shirt higher until it hits my chin, and I wriggle free of the annoying, unnecessary fabric.

Then, ahh. Dash’s tongue circles one nipple while his hand plays with the other one. My breath leaves me in a shaky exhale, and I reach for something, anything, to grip. When my hands land on Dash’s back, I sink my fingers into his muscular form until he lifts his face to mine with a sparkle in his eyes.

Shaking his head, he reminds me, “That’s not laying still.”

“But I need to touch something. And you’re the something.”

Placing each of my hands back on the bed, he ruffles up some of the covers and shoves handfuls of the feathery down into my fists. Then he resumes his ravaging of each breast until I moan.

I feel weirdly jealous of all the women who’ve gotten this treatment before me and also grateful because they’ve clearly made it possible for Dash to be as talented as he is today. I decide to focus on that part. No reason to get all in my head about other women when I’ve asked to be another in the long string of them.

Sliding my pants slowly down my legs, he runs his fingers along the skin of my thighs. I slip out of the sweatpants and lay beneath him, naked except for a flimsy lace thong, not at all uncomfortable with him seeing new parts of me.

I’m nervous because I want and don’t want this at the same time. Or let me rephrase. My body wants this, and it won’t shut up about it. That much is clear. It’s like a bell ringing in my head telling me it’s long past time for me to have a good time with a man.

That other part of me…the part that doesn’t want it…that’s the romantic part. It’s the woman who screams silently, telling me I should hold out for real romance and the kind of relationships with the type of men I know don’t exist. It’s easy to quiet that voice because I have the weight of experience on my side. In all the years I dated, I never met anyone who came close to satisfying what I wanted—intense chemistry and deep understanding. It was always only one or the other. Or a bit of both. Or neither.

I know better than to keep holding out for something I won’t find. I’m mature enough now to focus on my goals for Autumn Lake like an adult.

Yet…doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun.

This is Dashiell Corbett. He has a reputation for hookups, and I have every reason to trust the legend that precedes him. But maybe, just maybe, this is something more. That idea is enough to push me forward.

Dash lowers himself to the floor, and I tilt my head to see him kiss his way along one leg, which he places on the bed, bent at the knee. He does the same with the other leg. And then his tongue lands right at my center, hot and wet against the shred of fabric that separates him from where I want him to be.

I gasp at how good it feels, even through the fabric of my thong. “I was hoping you’d be wet for me,” he says, that same smirk-smile still on his face. “But you outdid my expectations.”

“It’s just a small piece of fabric,” I tease.

“Still soaked.” He pulls the fabric away and sucks my clit into his mouth. I gasp as he circles me with his tongue before sliding the thong down my legs and putting it into his pocket. “And now it’s mine.”

I don’t have time to protest because his tongue is on me, sweeping up my center and delving inside. I can’t stop the moan that leaves my lips each time his tongue goes back for another pass, circling against my flesh and teasing my clit.

Oh. My. God. I finally stop thinking about how Dash got this good at what he’s doing because I’m lost in it. I’m panting. I’m moaning. I’m flying.

There’s no limit to how high he seems like he can take me with his mouth on my most sensitive parts, so I keep flying higher. Higher. Until I’m cresting the top of a peak I’ve never visited before.

The cascade of tiny bursts of light and heat continues, and I ride out the orgasm until I’m not sure whether I’m here or in the middle of a fever dream. The only thing that gives me a clue is the sight of Dash stripping off his running clothes and standing in front of the bed with an erection that makes me salivate.

“Okay, Mallomar, now you can move,” he says, giving his stiff length a few pumps in his fist. I sit up and greedily replace his fist with my own, circling the head and running my hand down his beautiful hard length.

He exhales through gritted teeth and lowers himself onto me as I continue to work him, running my hand up and down his shaft. “Fuck,” he bites out, moving my hand and interlacing our fingers.

I feel drunk on the weight of his body on mine. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with any man, let alone one who elicited so much pleasure.

He circles my entrance, teasing me with tiny previews of how he’ll feel inside until I’m writhing beneath him and moving to position myself better. But he’s toying with me, making me want him more and not giving me what my body craves.

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