Page 75 of At First Flight
His fingers travel up the sides of my shorts and slip under the camisole. His rough fingers feel like a torch against my skin, and I hiss behind my teeth at the contact.
“Dean,” I moan breathlessly.
“What if that’s not what I’m hungry for?” he tells me as he steps forward, pressing his body against mine. I’m pretty sure my pussy is jealous at the contact. I do nothing to hide my sudden gasp.
Leaning forward, Dean presses his lips against my bare shoulder.
His free hand joins his other as he wraps them around my waist, his thumbs close enough to brush the underside of my breasts. It’s a freaking miracle I’m able to hold myself back when every ounce of my body screams for me to take what I desperately want.
“What is it you want?” I murmur shakingly.
“I think you know exactly what I want. What I’ve wanted since I first saw you.” Dean’s voice is gravel and heat, his lipsbrushing my bare shoulder, his nose trailing up the soft curve of my neck like he’s memorizing my scent. His fingers flex at my waist, holding back like he's tethered to some invisible line.
But I’m done pretending.
No more teetering on the edge. No more waiting for permission to want something or someone I’ve already chosen.
“Dean,” I whisper, my voice low but firm. And when he pulls back, eyes searching mine, waiting for me to say something, anything, I rise to my toes, thread my fingers through the thick hair at his nape, and grip tight.
“I’m not asking.” My voice is husky. Steady. “Fuck it. Fuck all of it. Kiss me, Dean. Touch me. Right now.”
Something primal flashes in his eyes. A low groan rumbles from his chest, like the tension in him finally snaps, and then he’sonme. His mouth crashes to mine in a searing, hungry kiss that scorches away any lingering doubt.
Our lips collide, all hot, demanding, and messy, and I honestly can’t tell who moved first. All I know is that Ineedmore.
Dean’s hands grip my waist hard as he lifts me like I weigh nothing and sets me on the edge of the counter. The cold granite bites through the thin material of my shorts, but the press of his body between my thighs burns like wildfire.
“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, grinding against me with a low growl. His hardness pushes against the very ache he’s caused, and my legs wrap around him like instinct. Like muscle memory. Like I wasmeantto have him right here.
He pulls back a fraction, his breath ragged, his eyes wild. “You don’t get to say things like that and not know what it does to me.”
“I do,” I say, pulling him closer with my legs. “That’s exactly why I said it.”
His mouth crashes into mine again, rougher this time, all teeth and desperation. And I kiss him back like I’m starving because I am. For him. Forus. For every second of this tension that’s been simmering for weeks, finally breaking into flame.
My lips part as his tongue begs for entrance. He explores my mouth as his hands reach up to cup my breasts. Dean pauses, just for a beat, before his hands move to my waist, gently shifting me closer to him. His eyes search mine, dark, heavy with want, but still searching for something. Permission. A flicker of doubt.
Slowly, gently, he gives me enough time to say, "No." His restraint is almost maddening, but I can see it in his eyes, the battle he’s waging with himself. He’s giving me a choice, letting me decide, still holding a piece of himself back.
But I don’t want that space. Not now. Not here. I want every second of this. Every touch. Every word.
I don’t need to say anything. We both know this is what we want. And as his body presses closer, I know I’m not backing away anymore. This is where I want to be.
When I lean farther into his touch, Dean moans as his thumbs brush the peaks of my nipples.
“I want to taste these. Can I, baby? Can I suck on your tits?”
“Mm-hmm,” I utter, lifting my camisole to my neck.
My skin shimmers in the dull light coming from beneath the cabinets. The tips of my breasts a dusky pink against my pale skin. Dean squeezes one of the breasts while leaning forward and stroking his nose against the other.
“God, you’re beautiful. These breasts?” he says as he cups both, his lips brushing against the soft skin of one. “They’re so fucking gorgeous. Are they sensitive, baby?” I jerk as he pinches one of the nipples. “Can I make you come this way?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“Hmm. Challenge accepted.”
Like a starved man brought to a world-class feast, Dean swirls his tongue around one point. It stiffens with each pass. I squirm on the countertop, rubbing my silk-covered pussy against his boxer-clad cock that perfectly aligns at our heights. My desire intensifies as he latches onto my nipple, sucking the peak into his mouth and gently brushing his teeth against the tip.
