Page 62 of Glass Half Full
The words sear my skin with the fire I’ve been craving. He could have said something sweet. He could have called me beautiful. He could have gotten up and pressed soft kisses to my skin.
I don’t want that right now. I want him to keep looking at me like that, like I’m damning him and saving him all at once, like I’m something he’s scared to pray for, like I’m something he wants to pray to.
I reach for the clasp of my blue bra behind me and unhook it before pulling the straps off my shoulders one by one. By the time the bra finally hits the floor, I can see the rise and fall of Dylan’s chest even from where I’m standing. The cool air of the room hits my bare skin, a tremor-inducing contrast to the heat of his gaze as his eyes roam my chest.
I don’t cross my arms or look away. I let him take me in. He looks almost pained as he traces patterns over my body with his eyes, like it hurts him not to follow those same dips and swirls with his fingers, his tongue.
“Dylan,” I murmur, “touch me.”
I move closer, and his knees spread as I step between them.
When his hands grip my hips, I can feel the power in the room shift. I’m his. He’s mine. I’m his again. The scales rise and fall as his touch roams up my back, his mouth trailing along my stomach. His tongue darts beneath the waistband of my jeans, and I moan as I twist my fingers in his hair, completely lost to him. Then I’m guiding him higher, taking him where I need him, and he’s once again here to offer whatever I ask for. We continue like that for so long I can’t decide what I like better: being at his mercy or having him at mine.
Then his tongue flicks my nipple for the first time, and I know I’ll be his for as long as his mouth is on me. I can’t hold back a moan when he slides his hand to my other breast, rolling my nipple between his finger and thumb as he continues licking the other. I moan louder, again and again, when he starts to suck and pinch me so hard it hurts.
“Your skin tastes so fucking good,” he mutters against my breast before he starts kissing me everywhere, frantically, all along my stomach and chest like he’s scared I’ll disappear. It’s overwhelming, and I gasp and reach for his hair again, doing my best to stay standing.
He shifts back on the mattress before pulling me down on top of him. This contact, the closeness of him, the thump of his heart under mine—it’s exactly what I need. We kiss furiously, like we’re enraged with each other, livid that we could possibly want one another so much.
I let out a frustrated hiss when my hands find the neck of his t-shirt. It needs to go. Now.
“Off,” I mutter against his lips before sliding my tongue into his mouth again.
His hands palm my ass, squeezing and kneading it, making me grind against his body in sheer desperation before he flips me onto my back. He sits up enough to tug his shirt over his head. I drink in the sight of his bare chest. He’s wonderfully real, real and here and ready to give me all of him, unafraid of his own flaws and accepting of mine.
He tugs at the button of my jeans. “Off.”
We both grin at the repetition of my order, and he braces himself above me as I shimmy out of them. When he lowers down onto me again, I wrap my legs around him, exploring the planes of his back with my palms. The rough denim of his jeans against the aching skin of my inner thighs is driving me crazy.
“I need you out of these,” I beg, sliding my heels along the backs of his thighs.
“Agreed,” he mutters where he’s busy kissing my neck. “We need to get naked. Now.”
I let out a breathless laugh, and he shifts off me so we can tear ourselves out of the rest of our clothes. When I glance over and see his cock for the first time, hard and thick and straining for me, I lose it and lunge for him.
“Shit, Renee. Oh, fuck.”
He continues calling out curse words as I take him between my lips and work my mouth up and down his length. I don’t go slow. There are no teasing licks or flicks of my tongue across his tip. I just take him deep and hard and fast, showing him how much I want him, how desperate he’s got me, how crazy he’s been driving me all night. The shyness is completely gone now. I want to show him everything he makes me feel.
One of his hands gathers up my hair. I had an elastic around it at some point, but that’s long gone. I hum a little as I keep going, and he groans when I wrap one of my fists around his base. I twist my grip back and forth as I keep sliding my mouth up and down, and it only takes a few seconds of the motion before he’s pulling my head back to stare at me with bleary, lust drunk eyes.
“Renee, that feels...Jesus Christ, you have no idea. If you keep going, I—”
“I want to,” I cut in. “I want to keep going.”
It’s the truth. I’m doing this as much for me as I am for him. The heat of him in my mouth, the way he gasps my name every time I go deeper—it might be the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever felt.
Dylan shakes his head. “I can’t even tell you what it feels like to hear you say that, what it does to me, but I want you on me more. I want...”
“What do you want? Tell me. I need to hear it.”
His voice drops an octave, and a darker need than I’ve seen all night slips into his eyes. “I want to fuck you.”
“God, yes.” All the air seems to be squeezed out of my lungs. “Fuck me.”
It only takes a few seconds before he’s grabbed a condom out of his night stand and ripped it open to roll it on. The sight of his hand sliding down his length is hypnotic.
His jaw drops and his eyes fly wide open when I slip my own hand between my legs. I’m completely soaked, twitching with need for him. Shimmying up his body, I position myself over his cock and lock eyes with him as he holds himself in place.
