Page 56 of It's Only Love

“No, now it’s your turn,” she commanded, pushing him back down and surveying the body stretched out underneath her. Her eyes started at that beautiful face of his, that made her insides turn to jelly before traveling down the wide expanse of his chest. His pecs jumped under her perusal and she arched an eyebrow at him, show off. He just grinned at her and she trailed her hand over his six-pack. Pressing over each of the bulging muscles before following the small trail of blond hair that stopped at the top of his pants.

She bit her lip as she remembered what it felt like when she had her lips around him, sliding him in and out of her mouth, how much he enjoyed it and the pleasure she had given him. She moved her hand inside and rubbed over him, grinning as his breath caught in his throat when she did. She dipped to cup his sac and squeezed gently, earning a dark curse from his lips. She grabbed the sides of his pants and boxers and pulled them down, he lifted his hips and then he was free.

She stared at him, thick and hard, stretching up and resting on his lower abdomen, she licked her lips teasingly and he groaned, his eyes roving over her body. She remembered she was fully naked, the thought panicking her until she saw the raw desire in his eyes as he watched her. Her breath left her at the sight of this strong, sexy man so turned on by her, and her confidence soared.

“Now who’s beautiful?” she asked, her voice thick. Her nipples puckered, he growled and the next thing she knew she was on her back, his body covering hers. His weight settled on her, teasing her with its hot, hard plains and seductive scent. She parted her thighs, allowing her body to cradle his, and he settled himself against her, his cock coming up against her slick sex, both of them groaning at the sensation.

He placed his elbows either side of her shoulders, his hands cradled her face as he looked down at her. His eyes searching her as he stroked over her cheeks, forehead, eyebrows, and mouth as if memorizing her. Her throat felt thick with emotions she didn’t want to be feeling, she had never been adored like this. She lifted her head to kiss him, to break the spell, but he dropped his head lower and licked across her nipple then sucked hard.

He thrust his hips at the same time, entering her slowly. He thrust gently, pushing himself inside, nearly to the hilt then withdrawing at the last moment, he did it again and again. The delicious friction and sensations it created had her eyes rolling back into her head, the next time he tried to withdraw, her muscles clenched around him tightly. A strangled sound left his throat and whatever control he had been exhibiting, snapped.

He bared his teeth and started pounding into her with hard, fast thrusts, and she loved every minute of it. She wrapped her legs around him, holding on for the wild ride. She latched onto his firm biceps, just as she had imagined, but this was better than any fantasy. He was wild, a beast, grunting and snarling with every pound of his hips. When they had sex in his truck she was on top, she controlled the tempo, she was in charge of the way he moved and what he felt. Now he was in control and a force to be reckoned with. He controlled and dominated her body, what sensations she felt and when. She surrendered to him and took what he gave, relishing it. She knew she would have scrapes on her back in the morning, but she didn’t care, seeing him so savage in his need heightened her own arousal like nothing she ever experienced.

She dug her nails into his back and tilted her hips, so he hit her deeper, she moved a hand down and sunk her nails into his firm ass. He cursed and tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her closer for a brutal kiss. Thrusting his tongue in time with his hips. She tasted herself on his tongue and she felt her orgasm building but was taken aback by the intensity of it. She buried her face in his neck as she cried out, her grip on his ass tightening, a cry tearing from her throat. He grunted as her muscles contracted around him, squeezing him so tight before he cursed again and followed her over the edge into bliss. He shuddered and she felt him inside of her, hot and wet.

They stayed locked together, her face buried in his neck and she could feel his pulse pounding, the beat matching hers. When their breathing calmed, he pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose, then her lips and they both moaned as he slid out of her. He didn’t move off her, just stayed there covering her body, her soft skin pressed to his. She ran her hand up and down his back and they settled into silence.

“I’m sorry, I was too rough,” he said, his voice gravelly. She opened her eyes and looked up at his concerned expression with disbelief, what? That had been perfect, he lost control, owned her body, and she loved every moment of it, she was still humming and throbbing with satisfaction.

“Are you serious? That was amazing!” she gushed, feeling herself blush under his scrutiny, “No apology necessary,” she lifted her lips in a lazy, satisfied grin. He looked down at her, shocked, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he tried to roll off her, but she latched onto his shoulders and snuggled into his chest, and she felt his arms go around her. She knew snuggling was a no-no for keeping this casual, but if this was the only time she would have with him she was going to do what she wanted. She was exhausted and as she drifted into her dreams, she realized this was the happiest she felt in a very long time.

*

She woke in the morning, snug and warm in her blanket burrito, the smell of the fire still lingering in the air hours after the embers burnt out. Her muscles burning deliciously, she burrowed in and smiled as she inhaled Dean’s lingering scent. The smell evoking memories of their night together. Turns out once wasn’t enough, neither was twice. Third time’s the charm? Still not enough. He woke her in the early hours trailing hot, wet kisses down her spine, his palm squeezing her ass. He got her so worked up that she begged him, honest to God begged. Of course, he had been happy to oblige, he was a gentleman like that.

But today was a new day, the antics from last night were a one off, a casual fling. They flung and got it out of their systems or at least tried to, she wasn’t sure she had him out of her system yet. She never experienced anything like that with her previous partners, all two of them. Dean made her feel alive, sexy, desirable, and confident. The way she felt when he looked at her? Unparalleled.

It also worried her, she couldn’t become attached to him and she was fast learning that Dean was the kind of man women became attached to. She would be leaving town once the house was done, they had some fun and now it was back to reality. With a deep sigh she threw the blanket back and sat up, looking around the brightly lit room. Even during the day with the bright sunshine streaming in the wide windows, it still felt cozy.

She wrapped his bathrobe around herself and decided to explore the house since she hadn’t gotten to see any of it last night due to the blackout. She left the living room and went across the hall, through the open archway opposite and found herself in the kitchen. It was an open plan room, brightly lit from a wall of full-length windows with a door facing out onto the terrace. Outside was a corner sofa curving around a glass table with a firepit in the center, a pair of armchairs, and against the wall was a barbecue grill.

She could just picture Dean standing at the grill, flipping burgers laughing over his shoulder at Beau and Taylor’s back and forth, then Justine and Christy would come out through the doors with a pitcher of cocktails and snacks for everyone. She smiled at the visual and then realized what she was doing. Where had that come from? It unsettled her how easily the scenario had come into her mind and how right it felt. She turned her focus to the rest of the kitchen, trying to ignore her thoughts.

The kitchen itself was gorgeous, wooden counter units ran along the walls and an island sat in the middle with wooden stools that had pale yellow and blue cushions. There were bottles of various oils and dressings clustered together, a spice rack, cookbooks, and a fruit bowl decorated the counters and island. It seemed more like a family country style kitchen than somewhere a bachelor would meal prep.

The whole house felt like it was designed for a family rather than just one man. And like the living room, it felt cozy and inviting. She could sit at the island and chat to him while he cooked, there was nothing sexier than watching a man in the kitchen. She sighed at her imagination again, getting frustrated and left the room. The hallway carpet was a soft, plush cream color which ran up the wide staircase. She flexed her bare toes, loving the feel of the material squishing between them.

When she reached the top of the stairs there were four doors leading off the landing, she could hear the sound of running water coming from behind one of them. Dean must be in the shower, she longed to join him, clearly she couldn’t get enough of him after all. If she were his girlfriend, she could slip inside quietly, let the robe fall to the floor and step inside the steamy – argh! What was wrong with her?

She moved away and went to the first room on the right. It was a spare room with just a bed, dresser and TV so she moved to the next one, opened the door, and stepped inside. The room was brightly lit from the huge windows along the south wall, sunshine flooded in, Dean was clearly a fan of natural lighting. As she looked around, she realized this was his study.

There was a worn, wine colored couch with a black throw casually draped over the back. A bookcase was on the wall opposite, she went over and scoured the titles, intrigued to see what he had. She found a mixture of crime novels, mainly Scandinavian authors, but a few American authors she recognized, “how to” guides on running a business, DIY books, and a couple of biographies. She even spotted a sneaky romance here and there. She ran her fingertips along the broken spines, some of them deeply cracked from multiple reads.

Next to the bookcase was a small filing cabinet and a rubber tree plant that looked a little neglected. There was a map of the world mounted on the wall above with pins in a few countries, was he marking where he had traveled? She had never been out of the States herself. She turned toward the wide window, there was a wooden writing desk in front of it with a leather chair tucked underneath. She could picture Dean sitting there going over his accounts, and then getting distracted, and looking out the window.

She ran her hands over the wooden desk, loving the feel of the grain beneath her fingertips, wanting to touch the things he touched, his possessions. There was a fancy looking computer, a small wilted bonsai tree, a notepad with “Iris Motors” stamped across the top and a pen pot. Beside this was a photo frame of Dean with his mother, Iris. As she studied the photo, she could see that there were similarities between the two. They had the same mischievous, sparkling blue eyes with matching dimples.

She looked out the window and gasped. She was looking down over the back of the property which had another small terraced area with a stone path that led to a large pond. The pond had a miniature concrete water fountain in the center of it. Small birds were lining up along it, dipping their heads under the streams running off the fountain, and flapping their little wings, enjoying their bath. The pond had flowering lilies scattered across the calm water. Behind the pond were two rows of orange and apple trees, with collections of both fruits dotting the ground surrounding them.

It was beautiful, so bright and colorful and alive with nature. It was perfect and so evocative she could imagine sitting at the desk and writing, looking out the window for inspiration and at that moment she wanted nothing more. She felt her mind stirring with thoughts of her next novel. The bubbling from the fountain, the birds singing, the sun shining, and the breeze ruffling the trees all sparked her creative instincts, flaring them to life. Suddenly ideas started bombarding her, thick and fast, too many to keep up with. Like the dam of writer’s block had been cleared and the thoughts that had been mounting up rushed out.

She cried out in excitement and grabbed for the notepad and pen on the desk and began scribbling furiously, stopping now and then to ponder and watch the birds. She didn’t know how long she was writing before she realized she wasn’t alone in the room. She glanced up from her scribbling to see Dean leaning against the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. Her stomach clenched, God he was gorgeous, although he had an odd expression on his face, was he annoyed she snooped through his house?

“Oh, hi,” she said, feeling a little guilty at being caught in his study, pen and paper in hand.

“Hi yourself,” he replied smoothly.

“I didn’t mean to snoop, I was looking for you when I came in here, and then I looked out the window and needed to…your house is lovely,” she finished lamely.

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