Page 100 of At First Flight
He leans in, kissing me again, deeper this time. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and when I open for him, he groans into my mouth like he’s been waiting years for this moment.
My shirt comes off first. Then his hands roam with careful patience, touching the places I used to keep hidden. I’mnot self-conscious, not with him. He makes me feel like every inch of my body is worth worshipping.
When his mouth moves down my neck and across my collarbone, I clutch at his shoulders. The scrape of his stubble, the heat of his breath—it’s all too much and not enough.
I whisper his name like it’s a secret I’ve only just learned how to say.
“Dean…”
He lifts me, easing me down onto the bed with a devotion that makes my chest ache. Then he kneels above me, fingers teasing down the curve of my thigh, slow and maddening.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over my ribs.
“I’m…” I swallow. “It’s never been like this with anyone else. Just you.”
He pauses. Looks up at me.
“What kind of ‘this’?”
“Someone who sees me. Who makes me feel…” My voice cracks. “Safe. Wanted.”
His mouth softens into something dangerously close to love.
“Good,” he says, dragging his hand slowly up my side, “Because I want you so badly, it’s tearing me apart.”
He makes good on that promise, bit by bit, stripping away the last of my hesitation. My shorts. My underwear. My composure. Every touch is intentional. Every kiss demands a response I can’t help but give.
By the time he moves over me, he’s stripped bare, too. Not just physically, but emotionally. Every inch of his skin is etched with want, and his eyes hold nothing back.
When he presses into me, my whole body arches, demanding. The air leaves my lungs in a sharp, shaking breath.
“I want you to feel me tomorrow. Every step you take I want you to remember that you belong to me,” he says softly, brushing a kiss against my cheek.
In the past, anger of being someone’s possession would bubble like lava, but with Dean, the need inside me is so sharp, I need something to anchor me to him.
And God help me, I’d give him anything.
He thrusts inside me like a man haunted, like etching himself inside me. Deeper. Harder. Until I can’t keep quiet.
His name leaves my lips again and again, tangled in breathless gasps and soft curses. The headboard rocks gently with every thrust, a steady rhythm I hold on to like a talisman.
I’m unraveling beneath him, in the best way, like he’s pulling every broken thread and weaving me into something new.
His hand comes down beside my head, steadying both of us.
“I’ve never wanted anyone like this,” he groans against my neck. “You wreck me.”
I don’t answer, I can’t, but I tilt my hips and meet him, body to body, heartbeat to heartbeat, giving everything I have left.
And when I come apart, it’s not just pleasure—it’s a full release of my soul. Every wound, every doubt, every fear burns away under the heat of it.
He follows seconds later, collapsing onto me, breath ragged, body trembling. For a long time, neither of us speaks. He rolls onto his side, pulling me into his arms.
I press a kiss to his shoulder, curling into his warmth.
“Good night, Lila.”
“Good night, Dean.”
