Page 48 of Crave Me

“You love it,” I chuckle as he brushes the wet hair from my face.

I don’t know why that comes out of my mouth, and based on his reaction, he’s feeling the same way. He doesn’t move though, he just continues to look at me like I struck a chord, suspending us in a tense moment that neither of us moves to break. His eyes are so crystal blue they’re almost transparent, and being the center of his focus makes my heart beat rapidly in my chest.

“Yeah, princess. I do,” he says before he kisses me. His kiss is the same as it always is, passionate and demanding, and my heart tumbles around frantically, making me feel things that I shouldn’t. His fingers slide into my hair, holding my head in his big palm, angling me exactly where he wants me. Our tongues caress in the center and I lift my leg, attempting to hook it around his waist. The height difference makes it hard, but he grabs my thigh with his hand and squats down, lining his thick length up with my core and working his way in with a few powerful thrusts, each piercing making him feel so much thicker.

After a moment, he’s sliding home, and the feeling is indescribable. Those damn barbells rub the inside of me, making me see stars. He pounds into me, still holding my head and never breaking our kiss. He keeps his cock buried deep, grinding it into me, rubbing my clit on his pelvis. The hair on his body is trimmed short and the rough stubble adds a painful sensation to the pleasure, something I’m realizing I love. But deep down, I know it’s so specific to him.

I moan into his mouth as he kisses me, his fist in my hair tightening brutally, his other hand digging into the flesh of my thighs. He fucks me hard and I love every minute of it.

“This isn’t going to take long, princess. You feel too good. Always so good.”

“I don’t care, just don’t stop.”

I run my hands over his back, the muscles straining and strong, the water cascading down over us. He sucks my tongue into his mouth before pulling away and resting his forehead against mine, his hand never leaving my cheek, our breaths mingling.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he huffs, his mouth slightly parted, eyes hard on my own. He feels insanely good, hitting every part of me and lighting me up from the inside. My orgasm doesn’t build, it slams through me like a freight train. My moans are smothered as he captures my mouth with his, pressing our lips hard together as he pumps into my body two more times before releasing. Our bodies tremble against each other as we ride this wave of bliss.

When we come up for air, the water has run cold, and I start to shiver. We take turns rinsing off quickly before Dallas opens the door and grabs a huge fluffy towel, wrapping it around me as I step out. He steps out behind me, grabbing one for himself and drying off. It’s bizarrely comfortable and domestic.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“God, yes.”

We dry off and throw on comfy clothes, Dallas in a pair of black, low-hanging joggers, and me in one of his T-shirts. Spending the last few days without panties has been a bit strange, but with how often Dallas wants to be inside me, it’s been beneficial. Speaking from experience, he’s the kind of man that will rip them off you if they stand in his way. We move to the kitchen and work together to make pancakes when his phone alert starts to go off in rapid succession, vibrating on the bar in front of us. Then it starts to ring.

“I should answer this to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Of course, I’ll finish these.”

He grabs his phone but only walks to the other side of the bar, answering the call.

“Hey, Momma.”

My heart squeezes. I’ve never been able to say those words and I have to swallow down the envy. I try not to eavesdrop, but he isn’t doing anything to make his conversation private. I focus on my task, flipping the pancakes and watching them cook on the flat top.

“Merry Christmas to you and Dad, Mom.”

My eyes go wide, and I look at him, his equally as large. It’s Christmas? I quickly do the math in my head. Kinsey’s birthday was on the twenty-third. I’ve spent two nights here so far. Holy shit, it’s Christmas Day. I woke up Christmas morning in my boss’ bed and then was fucked by him in his shower. We’ve been so preoccupied living in this little bubble it seems we both forgot the date. His house isn’t decorated at all for the holiday, so it wasn’t even on my radar. Christmas is usually a sad reminder of how alone I am. I have a few traditions of my own that I hope to share with my family one day, but I don’t go all out and celebrate. Dallas finishes up his phone call, talking to his mom, dad, and sister, Kinsey. I plate our pancakes just as he’s returning to the kitchen.

“Looks like we’ve been a little preoccupied and forgot about Christmas.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I say with a bit of a fake laugh, slightly uncomfortable with the situation.

“Do you need to call your parents and grandparents?”

I stiffen, my body tense, my hand hovering with the spatula extended to place it in the sink.

“I, uh, my phone died sometime yesterday. I’ll reach out to them later.”

He doesn’t ask any follow-up questions but moves in front of me, putting his hands on my hips, his touch light and comforting. I relax into him, releasing a deep breath. He leans down and kisses my cheek, sweetly.

“Merry Christmas, Blaire.”

“Merry Christmas, Dallas.”

We spend the rest of the day on the couch, taking turns picking Christmas movies and eating an obscene amount of popcorn. I wanted to string it together to make a garland, but Dallas lacks the string and needles. Being with him is the complete opposite of what I thought it would be. He’s so much more complex than the brash, arrogant dickhead I see at work. He has a huge heart, loves his family more than anything in the world, and is one of the most genuinely caring people I’ve ever met.

After being locked up with him for days, I’ve learned that the brute side of him comes out of pure protection over what and who he loves most. The distillery is one of those things, and regardless of his own twin brother hiring me and his younger brothers and parents supporting it, I am the sole representation of the disruption to what he loves. I shouldn’t feel guilty because I love my job more than anything, but I do.

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