Page 44 of One Night Only
“Well, you got me now, so get used to it,” I whisper, kissing her lips as I drag my fingers through her soaking wet slit.
She winces when I graze her clit again, hips bucking. “No, Dallas, I can’t. I’m too?—”
“Uh-uh, baby.” I shake my head, cutting her off with a soft, chaste kiss to her parted lips. “You owe me one more. I said three and I fucking meant it.”
CHAPTER 19
EMILY
Ijolt awake, ripped from a deep, blissful slumber, gasping when I realize I’m not at home in my bed. It takes a few seconds for me to collect my wits, looking around at the somewhat familiar room, the exposed bricks, the collection of cowboy hats hanging on the far wall, the big arched windows that, today, look out at nothing but a sea of gray, a hint of the Manhattan skyline barely making its presence seen through the blanket of heavy rain and low-hanging clouds.
Blindly, I drag an arm over the bed beside me, feeling it empty, the sheets cool to the touch, and I sit up, confused to find that I’m alone, wearing a different jersey than the one I’d worn last night, Dallas’s number still on it, only this one is alternate colors. I’m completely naked below the waist—no pants, not even underwear, nothing—and it causes memories from last night to crash over me like an unforgiving wave.
After having another orgasm ripped out of me, I was a depleted mess lying on the floor. I couldn’t even move; my limbs were like jelly. Dallas made me… squirt. Oh, my God. I didn’t even know that was possible. I thought it was something only porn stars were capable of. And even then, I had my doubts as to whether or not it was real. But it is. It’ssoreal. And I did it. Andit wasn’t weird or gross like I’d imagined it to be in my mind. It was literally everything and more. Like a surge of pressure building low in your stomach, like the tension you feel when you’re climbing to the very peak of a rollercoaster. You know the drop is coming, but as much as you think you’re ready for it, you’re not. The release, and then the sudden burst of euphoria that crashes through your entire body. It. Was. Everything. And, like an addict hooked on a new drug, I kind of want to do it again.
Holy shit. Who the hell even am I right now? I bury my face in my hands, giggling like a goddamn school girl.
Dallas ended up collecting me off the floor and carrying me through to his bedroom, and I clung to him like a fucking koala because I knew if I let go, I’d not only fall, but I’d fall apart. It had been a lot. Not only the multiple orgasms, but everything else that led up to it. I told him the truth. And because of that, I was holding on to nothing but a thread, and it was bound to break. And it did break. I broke. In the shower. But thankfully, Dallas was there to keep me together as I sobbed in his arms.
Yes, I showered with Dallas. I knew I needed to clean up. I was a mess, covered in my own cum. And so was he. He came in his pants, for God’s sake. Which, by the way, is a kink I didn’t know I had.
I knew I couldn’t shower alone because my legs were boneless. But I couldn’t risk Dallas seeing me. Even after everything we’d done, I just wasn’t ready for that. When I asked him if he’d shower with me with the lights out, I felt certifiable, but he didn’t hesitate. He got everything ready, turned the water on and got the bathroom all nice and steamy. Then he flicked the lights off and guided me in, helping me remove his jersey and holding me steady. It wasn’t completely dark as the frosted window let in the lights of the city outside, but it was dark enough, and Dallas was a complete gentleman, keeping his eyes up when he looked at me, not even attempting to sneak a glance downwards. He held me close to him under the steady spray ofwarm water. He massaged his body wash into my skin, penetrating the stubborn knots in my muscles with strong, resolute strokes of his expert fingers.
When I felt his hard length stir between us, I grazed it with my hand. I wanted to return the favor, get on my knees and give him exactly what he needed, what he deserved. But he stopped me, enveloping my hand and entwining his fingers with mine.
I looked up at him with a furrowed brow and said, “But I want to.”
He offered me a soft smile and slowly shook his head. “No, baby. Tonight wasn’t for me. It wasallfor you… I just wanna hold you.”
And I know I might be losing my goddamn mind, but I think a big part of me fell for Dallas Shaw in that moment.
I’m unexpectedly torn from my thoughts by the opening chords of Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5” blaring in through the bedroom door that’s been left slightly ajar, the music loud and overwhelming.
Throwing the duvet off, I make my way to my feet that are thankfully covered in a pair of Dallas’s socks so as not to freeze my toes on the hardwood floor as I pad carefully out into the apartment in search of what, I don’t even know.
When I catch sight of Dallas in the kitchen, hair standing up in every direction, shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweats that hang dangerously low on his hips, I slap a hand over my mouth, watching him.
He’s oblivious to me, dancing to the music, spatula in hand, mouthing the words of the song into his makeshift microphone, and it’s only then that I see he has Beats in his ears, clearly not registering that the music has connected to the speakers, not his buds.
I move slowly, careful for him not to see me as I enter the kitchen. From what I can see, he’s making eggs, and my tummy growls, but I remain silent, pulling myself to sit up on the islandbench, watching him and trying not to laugh as he shakes his glorious ass to the song.
When he does a little shuffle twirl, he stops suddenly, a hilarious shriek that sounds nothing like him and everything like an old woman coming from his mouth as he clutches a hand over his chest.
I throw my head back on a laugh.
“Holy fuck, Goldie,” he shouts. “You scared the shit outta me.”
I tap my ears, indicating for him to take his Beats out, and when he does, realization falls over him when he hears the music playing through the apartment.
“Shit, I’m so sorry. Did I wake you?” He looks genuinely panicked, glaring at the buds in his hand. “I can never figure these dang things out,” he mutters, tossing them onto the counter.
“You didn’t wake me,” I assure him with a laugh.
His eyes rake slowly over me as he stalks closer, gently pushing my knees apart and settling between my thighs. My skin erupts in goosebumps when he latches onto the sensitive spot at the base of my neck, licking the trigger point before murmuring, “You hungry?”
I moan, tipping my head to the side, granting him better access. “Yeah, but I wasn’t expecting breakfastanda show.”
“Smart ass.” He chuckles, licking and sucking the spot that makes my back arch, but before we can get too carried away, the oven dings, and he groans, pulling himself off me.
