Page 98 of Pucking the Team
I nodded. Wow. I’d learned something new. “Yes, that is a bonus. No recovery time.”
His smile dropped, and his gaze lingered on mine. “So turn around, Pip, and let’s keep going with our multiple orgasms.”
My stomach did a flip of excitement, and I turned around.
For a moment I was aware of Dylan shucking off his jeans, and then his big fingers took the zipper at the back of my dress, just below my nape.
Very slowly he undid it, the material slackening around my chest and ribs.
He was still breathing deep but not fast.
My heart was going fast. I tried to slow it and stared at an abstract painting in red, white, and black.
“You fucked Ben and Theo,” he said quietly.
“Yes.”
“Our time together won’t be like that.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
The zipper was undone to the hollow of my back now.
“Er…I guess so,” I said, “You’re not like them.”
“So what am I like?” His breath was hot by my ear.
“Different. Intense. Kinky.”
“Yeah, I’m all of those things.”
My dress pooled at my feet, revealing my red underwear, suspenders, and stockings.
“Jesus, you’re going to test my stamina,” he said. He wound his hands around my waist and pressed in close.
His cock lodged against my ass cheeks as his right hand slipped up to cup my left breast.
“Come this way,” he murmured and kissed the rise of my shoulder. “We’ll take this upstairs.”
He took my hand in a firm grip and stepped in front of me, gloriously naked now. Within seconds, he was leading me up the staircase. I stared at the roped muscles in his back, at the dimples above his ass cheeks and his taut butt.
Dylan was like no man I’d ever met. He fascinated me yet also made me a little nervous. His confidence was off the scale, and there was a darkness to him I wanted to understand.
“In here.” He pushed open a door to a bedroom.
I stepped inside and paused to let my eyes adjust. It was darker than downstairs, and candles had been lit on the bedside tables and a dresser. The wooden-framed bed was large, the sheets black and silky, and above it was an erotic painting of a woman leaning back, her spine arched, and a man between her legs, giving her oral sex. The bliss on her face was undeniable—mouth parted, eyes closed, jaw slack—and instantly my pussy clenched and I wished I was her.
“Nice.” I pointed to it.
“Don’t worry, that’s in your future.” He released my hand and moved to the bed. “Come over here and lie down.”
I sashayed toward him, my best catwalk strut that was accentuated because of the high heels.
His jaw tensed, and he flexed and curled his fists as though harnessing restraint.
I loved that he had to do that. That his need for me was intense and vibrant and impatience was clawing at him the way it was me.
