“I do.” I kissed his neck, inhaling his skin. It was time. “I’m ready to give it to you.”
His hands roamed my back and stopped at my ass. Both cheeks ended up in his hands like they always seemed to do. He squeezed, owning me. “Give me what?”
“My virginity.”
His body stilled. “You sure?”
“Positive. You can have whatever you want from me too. What I have is yours. And that includes my body.” I kissed his jaw, rubbing my soft lips over his rough stubble. “My heart.” I found his lips and tasted them, falling apart and knowing he’d spend the rest of his life holding my pieces together. “And soul.”
And then Dylan Meyer took my mouth, lips and tongue, and kissed me so hard I faded away. Within his kiss and touch, I was concealed from the world. No one could hurt me if I had him. It was better than any promise. It was a permanent safe zone.
“Hold on. I’m going to carry you to the bedroom.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I have to. Hold on tight, and if you set one foot on the ground, I’m going to spank you.”
I held on as he struggled to his feet. The pain shone from his eyes, so I hid my own against his chest. “It’s a good thing you weigh close to nothing,” he grunted, taking small steps.
I rolled my eyes, bobbing dangerously in his arms. “Is this really necessary?”
“What I’m going to do to you in that bedroom isn’t. But everything I’m doing now is.”
“What sort of unnecessary things are you going to do to me?”
“I love you,” he growled, struggling with everything inside of him to make it to his bedroom.
“Please let me—”
“I. Can. Do. It.” He grinned triumphantly down at me, his smile wide, his teeth straight and lips smooth; it was glorious. Dylan never smiled that wide. “Told you. Now get your ass down. You weigh close to everything.”
He set me down on my feet. His bedroom was plain and sparse. Bed, dresser, and window opened to a lake. The sun was starting to set, streaming light into the room. It reflected off the clear blue water, painting his white walls teal. It was so beautiful I could only stare. His mattress was uncovered, and he had pillows without cases and there were hampers of his clothes along the side of his wall.
“I’ll get more furniture later.” His voice came from behind me. “Anything you want?”
“I’ve never shared a room with a man before.” The possibility made me smile at his bed, imagining waking up to him in the morning, the next one too. “I’ve always wanted a big bed with lots and lots of fluffy sheets and pillows.”
“Fluffy sheets and pillows. Done. Anything else?”
“I’ll probably take most of the closet.” It was ajar, empty, waiting to be filled.
“It’s yours. Fill it with all the pinks sweaters you want. That it?”
“No. I want one more thing.”
“What?”
“You,” I breathed. I stared at the empty room, eager to make it ours.
“I’m yours.” He stepped behind me, his heat hot, and his hand settled on my waist. “Let’s get you out of these clothes.” He tugged at my shirt. “Arms up.” I obeyed immediately, already breathless. My sweater was off, leaving me in my dark purple t-shirt bra. He unsnapped the back effortlessly and slid it off my shoulders, peppering my neck and shoulder with soft, warm kisses. “So soft,” he purred. “So good. Turn around.”
On shaking knees, I complied, showing him my breasts. He gazed at them as his fingers moved to the buckle on my jeans. Lust burned in his cobalt eyes, sending a layer of consuming fog over me. As he stared my nipples hardened, wanting. I may’ve moaned, but all I really heard was my heartbeat.
“Can I cheat and have a taste of these sweet pink nipples?”
I arched in his arms, giving them to him. They were his. “A long one.”
“You want me to have a long taste?”
“Mhm.” I watched in desperate hunger as his lips closed around my elongated flesh. He sucked me into his mouth and sent an intense rush of pleasure straight to my core. It tightened in anticipation. He sucked harder, rolling my nipple around his front teeth. The slight twinge of pain was pure, intense torture. It swept me up, controlled me, and made me his. “Can you bite me harder?”
“Hmm,” he rumbled, flicking at my hardened flesh. I watched as his lips closed around me once more and he applied the slightest hint of pressure.
I cried out, quivering in his arms. I wasn’t even completely naked yet and already close to letting go. “Now lick me,” I gasped.
“I must say, Sweet Hillary, that I enjoyed you bossing me around.” He flicked his tongue against me before pulling it back into his mouth with a deep core clenching suck of his lips. “Now come, baby.”
My orgasm was a breathless, shocked gasp as he moved on to my other nipple. He repeated the process, sucking, biting, licking at me the way I planned on licking at him.
His fingers gave way, leaving my zipper open. Pushing my jeans down my legs, I stepped out of them, standing in my pink boy shorts. I looked down to find a wide wet spot spreading through the cotton.
“Turn around. Hands and knees on the bed. Show me that perfect ass, baby.”
My knees locked and I stumbled, but I managed to follow his order. My breathing was louder than my pounding pulse. He stepped behind me and palmed my ass, squeezing me roughly, painfully, wonderfully. I felt like liquid, an unsolid form that could seep between the cracks, yet so incredibly in the moment I was aware of everything.
“This is the way you’re going to lose your virginity. I’m sorry it can’t be the way we both want, but I’ll make up for that someday. I can’t be on top. You’re not going to be on top. I want you to know that this isn’t impersonal. It’s the only way I can make love to you. Are you comfortable with this?”
Was he serious?
“I couldn’t get more comfortable with this.” To show him I ground my ass against his hands.
“You’re going to come one more time before we do. I’m going to be too big for you at first, but we’ll work on that too.” His hand slid lower. “We’ll go slow.” Lower. “Until you can take every single inch of cock.” He found my clitoris through my panties and stole my breath.
I fell forward as he rubbed me. “Must you really call it that?”
A sharp crack sounded off my ass. “Say it, Hill. You want my cock, don’t you?”
“I want your penis.”
“Cock.” One more smack.
My orgasm was violently consuming. It was fog, a thick protective mist entrapping me. “Please give me your cock,” I cried.
“Always such a good girl.” My panties were being peeled down my cheeks. “Knees up one at a time.”
My right knee rose tiredly, followed by my left. I was exposed in front of him. Naked. Bare. Wide open because I wanted to be.
“I’ve got one condom.” His fingers found my vagina and slowly began to enter me. “Your tightness is unreal. Can you take more?”
“Try.”
His long fingers eased inside, fighting against my virginity. But I wanted him, and soon the motions of him moving them in and out of me were making my legs shake. My tightness grew used to the foreign sensation of being full, wanting it at the same time it fought him. His fingers brushed against sensitive starving parts of me. I rose onto my hands and looked up at the teal painted ceiling, hoping my moans weren’t heard. Dylan’s bedroom was on the other side of the apartment away from everyone else, but my moans were uncharacteristically loud, a wanton woman losing herself in the man she loved. I wasn’t quiet.
Suddenly his fingers disappeared and I heard the sound of plastic ripping. Bare feet on the carpeted floor. Hands on my hips. Not being able to predict his actions forced me to trust him. It was heady and satisfying finally trusting a man this much.
“I want to make one more deal.”
“Deal,” I breathed.
“Don’t you want to know what it is I
want?”
“Don’t care. Sex. Now.”
His chuckle wafted over me. “I do always give you what you want.” His penis carefully teased my entrance.
It was wider than his fingers, more firm, and thick. When he spread me, I dug my fingers into the mattress. When he pushed even more inside, stretching me apart, I howled. There was a pinch deep inside of me, a burn that made me a woman who was protected instead of a girl who’d been hurt. Dylan stilled, his breathing matching mine. This ragged breathless rasp of pleasure and desire.
“Does it hurt?”
“Yeah, but so good. Keep going.”
“You love me?” He pressed deeper, tearing me apart.
“Yes. Do you love me?”
Deeper, filling and stretching me like I’d never been. I felt overloaded by him, as if he’d never fully fit inside of me. But I wanted him inside of me regardless, deep, so deep it was just us as our bodies connected.
“Do you remember the day we met?” He moved into me, making me sob with pleasure.
“Of course.”
“When I asked if it was okay for you to be alone with me?”
In my desire-filled fog, I recalled the blurry image through my pain and tears. “Yes,” I senselessly responded.
“That was the moment I fell in love with you. The moment you trusted me, me, after you’d been hurt. I fought my feelings for you,” he moaned, voice rasped as he filled me. “Because I knew what you’d do to me. I knew you’d want me to be me. When I saw your pain, I saw you. I saw someone so good I had to have her.” And then Dylan Meyer took my body.
He pumped into me, pulled back out, filling me unbearably deep. The fullness was confusing. It felt too good. Too. Damn. Good. Our bodies met, skin against skin, sweat sliding across our flesh. A pressure built inside of me, growing, rising, coming for me until I gave in to its torture. My body was corded in pleasure. My screams tore at my throat. My heart soared high above the teal rays. My nightmares faded so far away I wasn’t sure they existed anymore.
But I did.
I existed.
I wasn’t afraid anymore.
When my body sagged I fell, curling up on the mattress. His body weight fell with mine, curling up on top of me. He was still inside of me, this thick beautiful intrusion I never wanted to be free of. Tiny shivers raced over my body like aftershocks. The smell of his sweat and skin made my mouth water. I was wrapped in him in every way.
“Don’t fall asleep,” he begged, his lips brushing my shoulder.
“I won’t …” My eyes slid closed.
“I want to make one more deal.”
“Anything.”
“If you promise me forever I’ll promise you the same. I have to have this—you. I have to have you, Hillary.”
“I’m already yours.”
“Promise,” he whispered, sounding intoxicated.
“I promise.” My brain drifted.
“I’ll never lie to you. I’m sorry I ever did it. I’ll be there for you every time you need me. You’ll never have to suffer on your own again. I’ll protect you. I’ll love you. I’m yours, aren’t I? I want to be yours.”
“You are mine, Dylan.”
One more soft barely-there kiss. “I promise, Hillary.”
***
I felt both heavy and hollow when I roused.
My bones were absent, and my pleasure weighed down my body. I risked opening one eye to find the teal glimmer had shifted to white blinding unbearable light. I rolled over to find Dylan passed out on his back, naked, hard, smooth body open to me. I found his chest and blocked the morning, falling swiftly back to sleep. The second time I woke I was far more unpleasant.
With a grumble, I rolled over, covering my eyes with my arm.
A sharp, loud smack cracked off my right cheek, and then there were hands on my ass, rubbing me, sliding between them. When Dylan found my hole, I smiled into the mattress.
“You really should do something about your snoring. Roll over, baby.” I groggily followed his order, staring sleepily up at him. His eyes were heavy with sleep, and his hair was a mess, but his smile was genuine and his hands roaming. “Legs open. Wider.” He found my core and parted me, locating my clitoris on the first try.
My moans exhaled as I looked into his eyes, not awake for five seconds before getting lost in him.
That’s how it would always be. I would be forever lost in Dylan Meyer.
“I used to think I’d never get over Harley.” His fingers increased their speed, making my clitoris hard and hungry as he rubbed me. “I thought when I lost her I lost the only woman who’d ever loved me, who I’d ever love. But maybe we were a part of each other’s lives for different reasons. Maybe she was with me because Bach would need her later. Maybe she was with Bach so he could have you. And maybe you were his sister so we could find each other. It was foolish of me to think I’d never get over her. Because I have. I think maybe, all I really wanted was to be loved. I am under your spell, my sweet Hillary, and I never want free. You loved me when there was nothing to love. I gave you nothing, and you made my coffee perfect, you helped me walk, you took me away. You showed me that I could be strong. That is love. I have it, and I will keep it forever.”
My orgasm started when his speech ended.
I reached for him, grabbing the arm with his tattoos. My body felt too full of good, this overwhelming emotion I had forgotten about, if I ever had it. Straight A’s didn’t make me happy; they made everyone else happy. Cheerleading, college, friends—these things didn’t make me content.
His tattooed arm did. It was some bad within the good. His dirty talk lit me on fire. His strength made my weaknesses safe to be frail. Dylan Meyer was good beneath his bad, and that made me perfectly content.
Because there was some bad now beneath my good.
And I had earned the right to soar.
Epilogue
Dylan
5 years later …
“My balls are suffocating.”
I laughed at Bach, bending over to straighten the hem on my pants. “Are they even big enough to suffocate? Maybe they’re just coughing.”
He glared at himself in the long-standing mirror, turning this way and that in his all-black suit. “I look like an asshole.”
“No argument there.” I stood, examining my own self in the mirror as well. My suit was identical to his, except my tie was sea green. I’d struggled all morning to contain my cowlick, but the damn thing kept popping up. I shrugged, as good as I was going to get. After all, it wasn’t my wedding. I was just the best man.
He took a deep strangled breath. “Have you talked to Hillary?”
I walked over to the couch in the hotel room and sat, giving my leg a break. Five years later and it still acted up on off days. I could run five miles before the pressure got too much. I could only chase Aubrey and DJ around for so long before I had to sit down. Having a one-year-old who had just discovered the wonderful world of walking was a beautiful, terrifying thing when your wounds would never fully heal.
“This morning. She told me all the nasty things Harley did at her bachelorette party last night. Even took pictures.”
He didn’t react. Harley would never cheat on Bach. It amazed me sometimes how perfect I thought they were for each other. That I’d spent so much time feeling betrayed made me intensely embarrassed when I thought back all those years. Bach and Harley were my best friends. They were there for every moment, every tear, every smile, and every fight. We were a family like I’d always wanted growing up.
“Harley won’t answer my calls.”
I looked down at my Tom Ford’s, a gift from Nena, and tried not to roll my eyes. “She’s fine, bro. I heard her yelling at Aubrey about eating in her dress.”
His reaction this time was relief. “Her wedding rules are ridiculous. We haven’t had sex in six months.”
“Try having a baby around. I can’t even think about sex before DJ starts to cry or Aubrey wants to play the piano.”
But we both smiled because Aubrey was freakishly intelligent and picked up on the piano effortlessly. A second grader who could play the piano but refused to learn to tie her shoes.
“Married life,” he supplied, smiling like a douche. “Can’t wait for that woman to be my wife.”
I looked down at my black band on my ring finger. “Why’d you wait so long? Hillary and I’ve been married for two years already.”
“Harley was busy opening her youth club. I was busy taking over the dealership in Houston. You and Hill stole the light with your wedding and then she had little DJ. I just wanted to make sure Harley had the time to be the princess she is.”
“Kids? Aubrey’s still waiting for that sister. The other day she put barrettes all over DJ’s hair and made him wear Hill’s high heels. The damn kid loved it.”
His chuckle mirrored my own. “Crazy how much he looks like my dad.” The smile on his face faded.
It was true. DJ had the dark brown hair and sea green eyes of a Bachmen thanks to Hillary’s DNA, but he was a Meyer. A good, untainted being who smiled like the world was made of light and giggled like nothing would ever make him stop. He was my first son, and I’d do everything in my power to make sure he was better than me in every way.
“No frowning today. You’re getting married. And since you pussied out about the bachelor party the least you can do is smile.”
“I’m smiling.” But he didn’t. “Can I tell you something?”
“Sure.”
“Harley wanted to wait six months so her birth control could wear off. She wants to get pregnant on the honeymoon.” Terror shimmered in his eyes.
“Bach.” I shook my head at my best-friend, guessing his thoughts. “You’re going to make a kickass father. You helped raise Aubrey, and you’re around DJ all the time. I get why you’re afraid. I was afraid too. How could we raise kids? But we’re doing it. We did it. Harley wouldn’t let you fail anyway.”
He turned away, but not before I caught the relief flash in his eyes. He glanced at his watch and then nodded, grabbing his cell phone and keys off the dresser. “Let’s go. Time to make Harley a Bachmen.”
Damage Me (Crystal Gulf Book 2) Page 34