Page 23 of Dirty Dillon

When her skin is pink and wrinkled, I help her from the bath and pat her dry with a fluffy towel. Cressida’s eyes follow my every movement, dark and trusting. Once she’s wrapped in the towel, I pull her against my chest, cradling her head under my chin. “You’re safe here, Cress. No one will ever hurt you again.” Not Blake, not her vile excuse for a father. She’s mine now, and I will protect what is mine.

Sliding one of my t-shirts over her head, I lift her into my arms and carry her to bed. Cressida nuzzles against my neck with a contented sigh.

I don’t have words for my feelings right now. I have enjoyed Cressida’s sassy talk on every level, but this feeling is something I didn’t know I yearned for. Providing for her. Protecting her. It cuts through all the noise, leaving a sense of purpose that is new and peaceful.

I set her down next to the bed and look her over. “I love your tight dresses and fuck-me heels, but princess, I think you wearing my shirt is the sexiest outfit of all.”

“It smells like you.”

“Get in,” I whisper softly as I pull back the covers, guiding her into the warm embrace of the sheets.

She looks up at me with expectant eyes, but I shake my head gently. I know what she’s thinking. “Tonight, we’re just going to sleep,” I tell her, climbing in beside her. My cock aches with unsatisfied desire, but I know this is the right choice. For her. For us. At least for now.

Cressida seems surprised, but she doesn’t argue, another first. Instead, she snuggles against me, her back pressed against my chest as I spoon her.

“Are you sure?” she asks, rubbing herself against me, teasing me through my boxer briefs. “You don’t have to hold back on my account.”

I let out a low growl, my grip tightening around her waist. “Don’t be a brat,” I warn, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “We both need rest.”

“Fine,” she sighs.

“Quit pouting.”

“You can’t even see me!”

“I don’t need to see you to know you’re pouting. Be a good girl and you can have your reward in the morning. Rest now.”

“Sorry, I forgot old people need their sleep.”

My cock flexes against her. I love her bratty mouth.

The dark, quiet room is a cocoon of peace around us. Nuzzling the back of her neck, I inhale her scent deeply.

“Rest now,” I whisper again, placing a soft kiss against her skin. “Tomorrow we’ll make up for lost time.”

“I ache for you,” she whispers.

Her simple confession spears me with intense need. “You’ve had a rough night, princess. I don’t want you to regret our first time together. You still want me in the morning, I’ll keep you in bed all goddamn day, I promise.”

“I regret a lot of things, Dillon, but I don’t think I could ever regret you.”

We settle into a comfortable silence, our breathing syncing as sleep claims us both.

In the dead of night, a soft moan wakes me. Cressida is writhing against me, little whimpers escaping her lips. Is she having a nightmare?

“Dillon,” she breathes, arching into an invisible touch. I can feel the heat radiating from between her thighs, and my cock hardens in response.

Not a nightmare then.

“You dreaming about me, baby?”

Her breath changes as she wakes just enough. “Mmm. Yes.”

I’m humbled and turned on. Fuck am I glad to be the man of her dreams.

I grind into her from behind before I can stop myself, my arms reflexively tightening around her. I’m half asleep but fully aware of her soft skin beneath my callused hands as they move lower. I relish her soft gasp when I cup her between her legs. She’s soaked for me, all hot and creamy and ready.

We’re in a surreal space between dreaming and awake. Everything is slow and languid, just the two of us in our own little world. She’s got me spellbound.

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