The fingers over my underwear slid a little lower, dipping beneath the band to outline one of my bare lips with a single finger. He ran it up and down just once before groaning.
Should I be embarrassed? Maybe. More than likely, but I wasn't. Not even a little bit.
Dex pulled away again, sitting straight up on his knees. In a quick move, he pulled his t-shirt over his head, and then went for my pants and underwear tugging both down my legs. He tossed them over his shoulder when he was done, shooting me a smile that was more reassuring and pleased than smug.
He grabbed the back of my knees and pulled me forward so that I was on the edge of the couch. His gaze was direct and intense. He looked down at me, my legs just slightly spread, my breasts hanging out of my bra and shirt. And I just laid there, a big pile of need and want. That big hand slid from my knee, making a slow trek across the inside of my thigh, his knee, his palm going up, up—holy crap—over the outlined ridge of his jeans inches from the apex of my thighs.
"I wanna fuck you so bad," he murmured, palming his hard cock roughly. He plucked at the zipper of his jeans, shaking his head simultaneously. "But not tonight. I'm just gonna lick your pussy tonight, baby. I wanna make sure you get this isn’t a one-time thing."
That was probably my cue to pass out, and I'm not sure what it said about me, but subconsciously I spread my legs even wider. Dex must have seen it because a smile spread over his mouth. He glanced up and fell over me, arms straight, kissing my lips once.
I'm not sure what was hotter. Whether Dex's immaculate body in general, or the smooth muscles beneath his colorful skin, or the way he slid down to his haunches before he lifted one of my feet up from the floor and draped it over his shoulder. Then his tongue was there, dipping between my legs to flick and lick at the moist skin. He sucked on my lips, on my clit, and then slid the tip of his tongue inside. In and out, circling, flicking, time after time.
I thought I was going to pass out. Or cry tears of joy.
It took all of no time before an electric tingling started at the base of my spine, expanding like a supernova, and an orgasm swarmed throughout my entire body, making my legs shake and my insides clench in satisfaction.
The sound of his zipper making its way down broke through the daze I was in. Sweat beaded on the back of my neck, my lower back, everywhere for all I knew. Dex dropped to his hands over me, caging me in. But it wasn't the tattoos or the piercings that caught my eye at first, it was his stiff cock bobbing that I couldn't help but stare at. The tip bobbed just short of my belly button as Dex flexed his hips.
Was he going to...?
He lifted a hand and wrapped it around the base of the thick shaft, angling it down so that I thought for a second that he was going to slide it in me but instead, he touched the tip to my slit and holy friggin’ crap. The mushroomed crown tapped that needy little button of nerves that screamed for this man, sliding the smooth head up and down the wet lips. Dex shuffled his body so that the length of his long, hard dick rested against me.
Was that me panting?
And then he moved, his hips and length going up and down. The underside of his broad tip brushed over my clit with each stroke. It was so thick, so unbelievably hot, I wiggled my hips for more. My body knew, it knew what to do even when my brain wasn't functioning, searching for memories of things I'd seen in the past. I tipped my hips up and watched him glide his shaft over me, coated in my juices, faster and faster. The tip hitting my clit every single time.
I couldn't stop watching.
"That feels so good," I whimpered as the thick reddened head peeked out from between my legs.
His breathing got heavier. A slow nod worked his neck. He thrust forward, those dark, tattooed fingertips gripping my thighs tightly. All that ink on his fingers shouldn't have been so hot up against my plain bare skin, but it was. Holy crap, it was. My insides clenched and wept when the meaty underside spread me around him.
I wanted him. Wanted him in me. Filling me. Helping me live. But the words wouldn't come out of my mouth.
Startling blue eyes flicked up to mine, lazy and unfocused. "Iris." He kissed me, closed lips on closed lips, lingering as he whispered into me, "Love this."
I came again with a cry. Hoarse and so loud I was just a little embarrassed, but the sensation was so friggin' fantastic it wasn't enough to regret it.
Dex yelled—yelled!—a split second later as long, white shots exploded in milky streams over my stomach and breasts. His hips pumped the air mindlessly, thick drops falling from the crown of his cock.
I'm not sure which one of us was panting more afterward. Those dark blue eyes slowly slid up my stomach and chest until settling on my face in a lazy smile. I couldn't help but smile back at him.
"You're amazing." The words just came out of nowhere and I felt silly.
But then he smiled even wider and the brief moment of awkwardness I felt was worth every second to get that in return. Dex lowered his face to kiss me gently, his breath washing over my cheeks and mouth unevenly.
He pulled away, reaching for the t-shirt he'd torn off and used it to clean off my upper body. I tucked everything back in and pulled my shirt down. After handing me my underwear and pants, I put them on while watching him clean himself off, too.
We ended up laying on the couch in the only way we managed to fit—me half on top of him. Like he needed to talk me into it. Ha. I laid my head down on his chest, over his Captain America tattoo and just a couple inches from the loops through his nipples. His skin was damp with sweat, his heartbeat pounding quickly into his ribs.
I traced my fingers along the lines of his abs, watching as the muscles there convulsed at the same time Dex let out a pleased little sigh. This friggin' guy...
If someone would have told me two months ago that he would be one of the most caring people I'd ever meet, I would have laughed in their faces. Yet, here I was. My virginity technically intact, my stomach a sticky mess, sprawled happy and warm over Dex Locke.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before that I'd been sick," I told him, trailing my fingers over the smooth skin of his abs. "I'm not embarrassed by it or anything—"
He rolled onto his side so fast it made me mutter, "Whoa" under my breath.
A deep furrow cut between his dark eyebrows, his mouth twisted down into displeasure. "Why the hell would you have anythin' to be embarrassed about, Ritz?" he asked.
I blinked. "Well, no reason, I guess. It's just an ugly scar."
It was Dex's turn to blink. "You had cancer," he hissed angrily. "And you're here. There's nothin' ugly about that."
The man who detailed his already beautiful body with even more gorgeous tattoos said that to me? I was torn in that split second between wanting to cry and accepting the fact that realistically, I was well on my way to being more than halfway in love with him. With him and his harsh words, and possessive touches, and quick temper.
Holy shit.
I was in love with The Dick.
I blinked again. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.
Don't cry, Iris!
I nodded to myself; I could do this. I could keep it together.
"I know. I know, trust me. I know that I’m one of the lucky ones." I slid my hand from his stomach up to his neck, touching the silky flesh there with nervous fingers. "But I've lived most of my life being 'that cancer kid'. I didn't want to be that person here too. I wanted you guys to like me for me not because of this."
It was Dex's turn to blink a slow draw of ink colored eyelashes that were too long for such a masculine face. "Babe, I think you got some of the worst luck I've ever heard of." He touched the tip of my nose with his index finger. "When I first saw ya, I saw a pretty little girl who got her bro to find her a job. A little girl who didn't grow up a Widow like the rest of us. Now, I know you. I know that you've gone through just as much shit, if not more, than the rest of us. You've survived a hell of a lot, Ritz. Your pa, your ma, your nana, and raisin' your bro on top of this," his thumb touche
d the edge of my scarring.
And then he blinked again. Once, twice, three times, and I swear, I swear, I swear that his eyes looked glassy between those eyelash flutters.
"And here you are. Life bein' unfair and all. I respect you, babe. Not just because you break my goddamn heart every single fuckin' time I see you smile but because..." He blew out a long breath of air from his lips, blinking blue eyes again and again and again. "I just do. You got me?"
I didn't. Not really. This feeling in my chest swelled and swelled to a size that made it painful to breathe. But I nodded anyway.
"I fuckin' wish you would’ve told me before you told everybody though," he admitted in a low voice. "Thought I was gonna throw up on the fuckin' table."
I cringed and ducked my face under his chin, nose to the raspy column of his throat. Slim's hurt face at the bar flashed through my brain. I didn't piss people off that often but when I did, I pissed everyone around me off. Ugh.
"Hopefully there won't be anything else for me to tell you anytime soon. I've told you more than I've told anybody else ever. Even Sonny." I sighed. Another person I pissed off. The one person who rarely ever got mad at me. "The last time I had to get radiation, I didn't tell him until I was almost done with treatment. He was so mad at me, Charlie. I thought for sure I wouldn't hear from him again."
Fingers tapped across my hip. "Was that right after his ma’s car wreck?"
"Yeah. That's part of the reason why I didn't tell him. He was already so stressed about her accident, and he'd taken off so much time from work. I didn't want to make things worse for him," I explained.
Dex hummed deep in his throat. Those long, artistic fingers tap danced across my pelvis. "Makes sense now. I remember him losin' his shit a few years ago. Trashed his place, got into a fight with half the Club. He was a fuckin' dick ‘til he took off. Didn't tell any of us where he was goin'."
Whoa. I had no idea he'd done all that. He'd shown up to yia-yia's house with bruised knuckles but I'd been so worried about our relationship, it just hadn't seemed like the time to push. "He came to stay with us for about a month. Now he's mad because I didn't tell him about going to Busty's."
"He'll get over it," Dex said, squeezing my hip.
"Eventually."
He hummed again. "He's mad but he'll get over it. You just gotta quit keepin' shit to yourself."
"I know." I sighed. "I know. I won't. Not to any of you again."
Those familiar fingers, tipped in black ink, threaded through mine and he growled, "You better not."
Chapter Thirty-Two
I was torn between wanting to kill Luther and giving him a hug.
The only thing keeping me from figuring out a way to overflow his toilet was the fact that there had been quinoa patties waiting for me on his kitchen island. Because I mean, they were quinoa patties. Someone, somewhere had made these and I doubted that the Club had any other vegetarians in their crew besides me from the stink old Pete had made with the black bean burgers.
So for that, he'd live and his toilet would survive to see another day.
But for inviting that Becky girl and a handful of other women that gave Dex the googley eyes when their dates weren't looking—Luther would suffer imaginary torture.
Repeatedly.
When the heck had I become this person? This girl that had to grit her teeth because jealousy threatened to make her pop a few blood vessels. The smile on my face felt forced, fake, unnatural.
And the worst part was that we'd only been at his house for fifteen minutes tops.
Why hadn’t I pushed harder to stay at Dex’s house instead? I’d told Dex I didn’t want to go. It wasn’t necessarily that I never wanted to see Luther or other Widowmakers again. I just didn’t want to see them any time soon. The whole crap in Dex’s office had been mortifying. The last thing I wanted was for them to look at me with “Poor Ris” on their faces.
I hated that damn look.
Dex had simply looked at me with those thoughtful eyes and stroked the line of my nose. “You told me to go fuck myself in front of club members. You, who says friggin’ and ef, babe.” He blinked. “Think you called me a dickface, too. Didn’t ya?”
Whoops. That was a positive.
The tip of his finger tapped my nose as he exhaled loudly. “Trust me, honey. I’m sorry I said that to you but the only thing anybody is gonna remember from that day is what you called me, not the other way around.”
I had supposed in that moment that Dex had a point. Hadn’t he gotten into a fight after that?
I finally relented and agreed to go to Luther’s place. The possibility that there might be people there that knew Dex more intimately than I did never even occurred to me.
Based on the number of bodies at his house, the "get together" Dex had told me about that morning, was going to be an all day event. It wasn't like I could complain. I didn't have any right to judge him for the people he'd been with...I couldn't even finish the thought without nausea clawing its way up my throat.
I was that jealous bitch.
I bumped into a short blonde as I shuffled out of the kitchen with my friggin' quinoa patty and fruit salad in hand. The girl looked in my direction and gave me a slow, apprising smile. In jeans that looked painted on and a tank top that barely held in her huge boobs, she was all confidence. And gigantic boobies.
"Sorry," she said in a soft voice that wasn't entirely convincing.
Oh boy. Had Dex slept with her too?
You don't want to know.
Oh hell.
I flashed her a strained smile. "Sorry about that."
And then I fled.
Wuss.
Luther's massive backyard was packed with Widowmakers and their families. There was a pretty big pool right smack in the middle of the property with quite a bit of kids splashing around, screaming. Adults littered the folding tables and chairs that had been set up around the perimeter as classic rock blasted through the speakers mounted on the back patio.
It was nice. Really friggin' nice.
But just like at Dex's niece's party, I felt out of place without my brother and the black-haired man I'd slept under last night. The only way to change that was by making friends, right?
But I could make friends later. When I wasn't standing awkwardly by the door like my freshman year of high school in the cafeteria.
There was a cluster of black vests and different shades of white and black t-shirts by one of the tables all the way in the back. Of friggin' course. I side-stepped my way through the screaming kids running around their moms, and spotted Dex's dark hair. He was sitting down, elbows to his knees, watching one of the other members with a disinterested expression on his face.
One of the men, an older one I hadn't seen much of during my stay in Austin, hit him with the back of his hand, tilting his chin up. Immediately, those pure blue eyes shot up and around the chairs surrounding him. He gaze shifted and drifted past the men, past the women, until finally landing on me.
I waggled my eyebrows, circling the chairs the Widows had grouped together. The side of Dex's full, pink mouth quirked up at my gesture.
"Hi guys," I said loudly enough for the dozen other members to hear me.
Ten different variations of "What's goin' on, Ris," came back to me as I came to stand in front of Dex, waving at the Club members in return.
I lifted up my plate. "Can I sit with you?" I asked him. The idea that he would say no wasn't even a figment of a possibility in my brain.
Dex sat back in his chair spreading his legs wide, his bright white t-shirt popped even more against the colorful figures of his sleeves. The corner of his lips stayed tipped up. "’Course you can, honey."
The obvious choice was probably to sit in his lap but instead, I turned around and crossed my legs before sinking to the ground between Dex's feet. I felt him shift behind me, his thighs closing in around my arms. Fingers sifted through my hair, pulling the strands over one of my shoulders.
"What'cha got
?" he murmured into my ear. He twisted my hair around his fingers in tight, messy knots.
I showed him my plate.
Dex plucked a piece of watermelon off of it with his other hand. A low rumble of approval resonated through his throat after licking his fingertips clean.
I think I shuddered a little when he picked up a grape afterward with those long graceful fingers.
We ate silently. I finished the quinoa patty in three bites while Dex picked pieces of fruit off, wrapping and unwrapping my hair from his fist over and over again. His chest was warm on my back while we sat there huddled. The rest of the Widows talked about a trip some of them were thinking about taking along the west coast.
Under Locke Page 42