Page 16 of Dustin
I place my hands on his arm to push him away and make him move. My hands drift up to his face and the dark sweep of his lashes: his firm sensual lips and chiseled cheekbones. I used to love looking at his face.
I used to think about it all the time. I still do. He’s not the only one that feels like I’m always there. He also manages to dominate my every thought when I’m not around him. I’m torn between running for the hills and pulling him in and being with him.
My dad made a terrible mistake by asking me to do this. He might have inadvertently kickstarted something he tried so hard to stop five years ago.
“Are you going to kiss me?” I ask quietly.
My tongue darts out to wet my lip, and Dustin’s eyes zoom in on the action.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” he questions, his eyes dark with lust.
“Yes,” I answer simply.
The answer is more than enough. My nails dig into my palms as anticipation builds in my gut. I should have known Dustin wouldn’t just go for it, though. He always liked to draw things out. He starts by kissing my forehead. Then my nose. A soft, soundless kiss against my cheek. He moves to my ear and tugs on it softly with his teeth. It’s torture.
“Just kiss me!” I say, frustrated.
He pulls away and grins. The genuine grin is like a punch to my gut. I watch both his dimples appear, and it’s such a surprising sight. I haven't seen a smile like that from him in a while.
“Always so impatient,” he says, tsking.
His hand goes to my neck and the other to my waist. He pulls me closer and begins leaning in. Then his lips meet mine. Hot, hard, unyielding. His hands slide up to cup my jaw and neck, holding me in place as he kisses every thought out of my head.
He pulls back, his eyes fierce.
“I really missed that,” he whispers.
He doesn’t give me a chance to reply before diving back into the kiss. I hear nothing but the thundering of my chest. My heart feels like it’s running a marathon. And I know without a doubt that Dustin has inputted himself back in again. The last time it killed me to get him out. I’m not sure I’ll be able to do so again.
He pulls away for a fraction of a second to pull off his white shirt. His muscles are sleek and sculpted, all sinuous lines and strength.
Then he kisses me again, more desperate this time and demanding. I soften against him, and he responds by fisting his hand in my hair. His fingers find the straps of my dress. My heartbeat skitters as he slides the fabric an inch down my shoulder, leaving my shoulders burning.
I can see it in his eyes. He needs this. And so do I. With one deft swipe, he shoves the strap of my dress from my shoulder, then he does the same for the other one. Dustin’s jeans slide to the floor about the same moment my dress slithers down my body and pools at my ankles.
“So fucking sexy,” he says almost reverently.
His mouth is on my neck, and he’s nibbling and kissing his way down south. I shiver as he unhooks the clasp of my bra with one hand, baring my breasts for him.
He cups one breast greedily. His tongue darted out to stroke my aching nipple. I reach down to cup his erection through his boxer briefs. His lips close over my nipple, and he starts to suck.My head falls back as I moan. He sucks and teases my nipples with his mouth, just how I like it.
He doesn’t stop sucking until his hand finds its way into my thong. He shoves the material aside and plunges his finger into me.
“You’re so wet, baby,” he mutters. My moan becomes a cry when he parts my slit with his fingers.
“Dustin,” I cry.
“I need to be inside you right now,” he says, brushing his chin over my nipple. His fingers thrust into me, and my knees buckle.
His dick is in my grip. Dustin groans as he drops his forehead to mine. I manage to free his shaft from his briefs, and we both start to work each other with eager hands.
Suddenly he pulls out of my throbbing core. I hiss against his neck in annoyance, but it soon turns to anticipation when I find myself on my back in bed with a naked, sexy man standing over me.
“Madison?” he calls, kissing his way up my body.
“Hm?” I say, my voice husky with lust.
“I don’t have a condom,” he informs me as he thrusts a finger into me again.
