Page 36 of Flying High

Chapter 16

Abbi

“Dean,enoughalready.”

This time I mean it.

Sort of.

Enough of the foreplay, which admittedly has my eyes rolling back in their sockets, more of the pounding that my body is so, so ready for, and I know he can deliver. I tug at his hair, trying to bring him to his feet, but he seems very reluctant to remove his tongue from me.

I know, cry me a river.

He’s been on his knees for a solid ten minutes, right underneath me, holding one foot in place on the tiled ledge that runs along one wall of his shower recess. Warm water and steam flow around us, and the way he’s keeping me right at tipping point has me wanting to claw at his skin. It seems he’s into edging, and I tuck that away for a time when I can unfairly return the favor.

Last night was epic. It should go down in the sex chronicle or wherever the hottest nights of sex are recorded because,holy cow,can that man deliver an orgasm. Multiple orgasms, actually.

While he may not have spent a lot of time dating and courting women, he sure as hell knows his way around erogenous zones. I think I may have come from him licking and nipping at the soft skin behind my knees, for God’s sake. Every inch was explored, and when he found a spot that made me squirm, he worked on it until he wrung a climax out of me. And that seems very unfair because I’ve barely had a moment to focus on his body which is like my own private playground of delights—smooth skin, hard muscles, and abs that I want to lick.

Dammit, why am I being deprived of his abdominal delights? I frown and look down at him, hot eyes meeting mine from his position between my legs.

“You really want me to stop?” he asks, pressing a line of open-mouthed kisses across the top of my mound and running one hand up the back of my straight leg. Gah, he doesn’t play fair.

“Well, no, but it seems like you’re doing all the work down there.”

“I’m quite happy where I am,” he responds lazily, reaching the crease where my leg joins my ass and running a wet finger along that line. It’s not exactly ticklish, but it does make me shiver a little. He slides that finger ever inward, and when he reaches my entrance, inserts just the tip, watching me all the while. My body knows it wants more than he’s giving it and clenches hard, trying to draw him in.

“You don’t play fair, Dean,” I comment, wriggling my hips, trying to push down on his hand.

“How fair do you want me to play?” he teases and brings his other hand to the front of my slit and ghosts it up and down.

“Fairer than this. Please, I can’t take any more teasing.”

“Okay, no more teasing. Remember you asked for this,” he says and immediately changes his approach. The gentle finger entering me from behind is joined by two others, and they slide deep. I’m dripping wet, and there’s very little resistance as he pushes into my tight channel.

At the same time, he presses past my folds and pinches my clit between the pads of his fingers.

“Fuck!” The twin sensations have me throwing my head back and rising on my toes. Every muscle in my legs is as tight as a drum, and my vision turns white at the edges. My scream echoes in the small, tiled space, and my inner muscles contract so hard I think something might actually snap. If he hadn’t been working me up to this, well, since yesterday, I suppose it would’ve beenwaaaytoo much, but the pressure of that pinch and the fullness inside me are so perfect I think I might be in paradise.

When my body comes down off that high, and I become aware of my surroundings again. Dean is holding me upright as I sag against him under the warm flow of water.

“Jesus, Dean,” I utter, panting. “I need to be lying down for something like that next time, okay?”

Do I sound ungrateful? I swear I’m not. But honestly, I think I may have lost consciousness for a moment there. Who even knew an orgasm could be that strong? None of mine have been until I met Dean.

He snorts into the side of my neck. “One of these days, I’m going to camp out between your legs and eat you out until you fall asleep from exhaustion,” he says.

I believe him.

“Not today, though, because I seem to recall that you have some wedding function to attend?” As soon as I say the words, I regret bringing the wedding up. It’s been at the back of my mind all night and again this morning. I don’t have regrets about the two of us being together, but it’s all a bit complicated. And I basically deal in complicated, so that’s saying something. The whole point of Dean’s mom enlisting my matchmaking services was to find him a date for a wedding. So now that I’ve inserted myself into the dating schedule and ended up in bed with Dean, where does that leave things?

“Hmm,” he replies, turns off the water, and reaches for a couple of fluffy towels he grabbed before we started our shower. Once we’re wrapped and dry, he leads me back into his bedroom, and we sprawl comfortably on his bed.

Certainly, I’m in all sorts of trouble with my job, but that ugly mess can stay separate while I try to figure out what’s happening between Dean and me. I don’t want to assume anything or push him to take me as a date, and equally, I don’t want to be used as convenient arm candy. Not that I think he’d do that to me, but there’s the pressure from his parents and friends.

“I can practically see the wheels in your head turning, but I don’t want you to worry about this. I’ve been thinking about it since last week.” He takes my hand in his and brushes his lips over my knuckles.

“After that night at the airfield, I called James and told him I’d be attending without a date.”

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