Page 109 of Dean

It’s only then that he stares down at me, placing his dick right at my entrance and pushing inside. I’m wet and open, swallowing him slowly as he slides forward. His breath comes out trembling and shaky, and I’m holding on for dear life. This is so much better than just the tip. So much better.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans as he sinks balls-deep into me.

“Yes. Yes, so good.”

The stretch is delicious, the way I feel split open. But then again, I knew I would as soon as I saw his cock. It’s huge, just like the rest of him. His thick arms bracket my body, making me feel consumed and safe at the same time. His lips meet mine for a filthy yet tender kiss as his hips arch backward and then slowly slide back in. We moan intoeach other’s mouths as he does it once more, almost relishing the feel of my rim hugging his dick.

He’s in no rush either. He’s savoring it. Savoring me.

And I let him. I’ve never felt this way during sex. It’s always been rushed and frantic. Not that I don’t like that. But I like this more. It seems more romantic. Like he’s cherishing this time with me.

The fucking is slow, a meeting of skin and breath as he moves in and out of me, drawing out my orgasm until I’m panting with the need for release.

“You want more?” he asks, and I nod, not sure how he can give me more when this is absolutely perfect. But he somehow manages despite never having done this before. His elbows lock and my legs move over his shoulders as he pulls out of me entirely and rams back in. A surprised gasp leaves me at the way this feels, the intensity of it, the angle. I lock my ankles behind his neck to keep myself there as he pistons his cock in and out of me. I’m mewling, crying out each time his dick hits my prostate, my cock leaking profusely as I take his dick over and over. Dean’s sweating, his face red, the tendons in his neck bulging. I know he’s close, can feel the way he’s shaking above me.

I am too. My hand reaches down, and I grab onto my cock, stroking it quickly, feeling my release barrel up through me. It hits me like a tidal wave, my back arching up, my cock twitching as I explode. My rim tightens around Dean, and he lets out a low grunt as his movements start to stagger. And then I feel it, his release pulsing inside of me, marking me.

He continues to draw it out, as if not wanting it to stop before lowering my legs, collapsing on top of me, and kissing me softly.

“Fucking good, yeah?” he asks, and I nod, letting him continue to kiss me until his cock softens and slips from me. I can feel his cum dripping from my hole and I can’t help but reach down and touch it, making sure this isn’t all a dream.

It’s not. Dean rolls onto his side and pulls me into him, holding me tightly.

“Was it good?”

“It was fan-fucking-tastic. I want to do that again. And again.”

“As long as you don’t go. As long as you don’t leave me.”

I sigh and snuggle up to him. “I won’t. I’m sorry. I wanted to give you the choice to evict me and I went about it badly.”

“It’s okay. I should have stopped you from leaving. Tied you up and forced your hand.”

I let out a small laugh. “Yeah, well, we can move past it. Is that okay? Can we forget this night ever happened? Well, except the sex. I don’t want to forget that.”

“Yeah, Avery. We can.”

That’s all I need to hear. That’s all I fucking need.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

DEAN

I can’t stop staring at Avery’s ass.I’ve been inside that, I think as I stare at the long purple dress he’s wearing. I’ve felt the rim constrict against my cock as I came inside of him. Raw. Bare. Fuck, it just makes me want to push that dress up around his hips and fuck him again. Right on this rickety kitchen table.

Once was not enough.

I can’t believe he almost left me last night. The fear I felt when I saw that box on his floor. That he wanted to leave me. That he was going to pack up and go.

The color in my life was going to bleed and run. I wasn’t going to have it anymore. I want more of it. I don’t want it to be pulled from my life.

But he didn’t leave. He stayed. He stayed up, painting something for my walls.

It’s a symbol.

I know it is.

It’s him putting his mark on my life, a more permanent one.

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