by Piper Lawson
I hooked my leg around his hips. He grabbed my other leg and lifted me onto the counter. His mouth was lighting fires everywhere, down my jaw, my throat, back to my mouth, but something didn’t feel right.
“Not here,” I said breathlessly, and pulled him upstairs with me.
We tripped on the stairs but somehow made it in one piece. He pressed me up against the wall at the top of the stairs. His body was hard, his hips against mine. One hand was cupping my breast under my tank and the other behind my neck. There was a desperation that caused him to move roughly, in contrast to the usual smoothness of his movements.
“Do you have any idea,” he murmured between kissing my lips, my neck, my collarbone, “how fucking useless I’ve been?” He grazed a thumb over my tight nipple and I moaned. “The guys think I have the flu. I spend every free second in my room or in the shower, because I can’t think straight. All I think about is you.”
Something made me want to reciprocate and I told him how my law professor had caught me daydreaming about us on the desk.
“Mmmm. You have a desk, don’t you?”
“Sure do.”
His hands stilled and he looked down at me, his lips turning up in a wry grin made tense because of our current situation. The wanting was there, but so was something else.
It seemed to spur him on as he grabbed my ass with both hands now and lifted me against the wall, pulled my legs to wrap around him.
“See, now aren’t you glad for friction?” he managed as his mouth slanted on mine. “Otherwise you’d be on the floor right now.” Of course he’d sneak that in at a time like this. That was part of what made Dylan himself—the nerdy smartass intertwined with the sexiness. Damn, I liked this guy.
“I was thinking of something with a little less friction.” As I pulled his mouth to mine, I unwrapped my legs from around his waist and backed toward the shared bathroom at the end of the hall, pulling my tank over my head and tossing it on the floor on the way. His eyes were hungry as he followed me, like a predator stalking its prey. And who was I kidding—this gazelle had already given it up.
One of the great features of this house was a giant glassed-in shower. I’d imagined us in it more times than I cared to admit.
Dylan followed suit by stripping off his shirt, started on his jeans. I pulled down my shorts and moments later we were naked, our gazes hot and hungry. His body was as perfectly formed as I remembered, his impressive cock already straining upward toward me. He was devouring me with his eyes, like he’d waited years and not two weeks to see me.
I turned on the shower and stepped in. He was half a beat behind me but I held up my hand to his chest before he crossed onto the tile. “Um …” I glanced down and he followed my gaze. He realized he still had his socks on.
“Fuck,” he half laughed and half swore it, stumbling to pull them off. It thrilled me that he’d been so distracted he forgot to get his socks off. But I was impatient. I grabbed his hand and pulled him under the streaming water with me. I wanted to feel him slippery and desperate against me.
He cupped my breasts with his hands while he bent to kiss me. His thumbs slid over my nipples, this time sliding from the water. The sensation was entirely new but just as hot.
Every stroke was driving me exponentially higher. And still, I needed more. My hands were in his wet hair, then running down his chest, around his back, pulling him closer. My fingers brushed his cock experimentally, which made him groan.
Dylan bent his head to suck on one of my nipples and his hand moved lower to squeeze my ass. I didn’t think I’d ever been this turned on before. Then his fingers moved around to my wet opening, and he slid two into me at once. I wanted to growl.
It was hot, like the first time, but somehow different. The first time we’d been caught off guard by the need, the sensation. Surprised by the way we fit together so well and the way our bodies responded to one another.
This time we knew.
This time we’d been waiting on it, thinking on it for days. So the moment we touched he was on a mission to take more from me. Take everything. And his taking still gave so much back because his pleasure fuelled mine and mine his. Dylan completely overwhelmed me with his words and his body.
“I want to be inside you.” His voice was hoarse while his fingers worked me. A whimper escaped at the slick sensation of him sliding over me. “Fuck, you’re so tight and wet. Are you this wet for me all the time?”
“Yes,” I admitted on a low moan. His mouth was still on my breasts while his fingers did wicked things to other parts of me.
“Dylan, we can’t be doing this.” My brain started to catch up, but I worried it was too little too late.
“Uh … we kind of are.” And so we were.
“This is the last time.” His teasing was too much, the fingers driving me higher, harder, hotter. His mouth sliding over my breasts, my collarbone. Tongue then teeth then lips, a whirlwind of sensation.
I grabbed his cock and stroked it along my folds while he hissed out a breath. It was impossible to prolong this.
“Tell me what you want,” he said through a clenched jaw. “Fast, slow … tell me.” I wanted anything he could give me. But I had a week of material to draw on. And because of how much he wanted me, how powerful he made me feel, one vision in particular rose to the top.
“I want you to fuck me from behind while I touch myself. Then I want you to come all over me.” His eyes blazed at my words, and he set out to do exactly that.
Turning to brace myself against the tile with my forearms, I felt one of his hands rest possessively on my hip as he positioned himself to slide into me. My head turned so I could lock eyes with him just as he found my opening with his hard length and slid in slowly.
His bottomless brown eyes watched me as he entered inch by excruciating inch. He was so big and I was tight around him. I arched and felt him slide even deeper.
“Wait,” I gasped, and he stilled until I nodded for him to move. When he did it was unreal.
Dylan’s arm wrapped around my waist to hold me to him, the other palmed my breast. I reveled in the heavy drag of it, of him sliding in and out. Alone it was incredible, but when I reached down to graze my clit with my fingers, it shot me right into the stratosphere. He was breathing hard. He looked down to watch me, watch us, and I saw his jaw tighten. It gave me a perverse pleasure knowing I was the one who made him feel this, who got to see this beautiful and complicated guy unravel.
Our flesh slapped together over and over, just audible above the rain-like sound from the shower. Our heavy breathing was locked in an old rhythm. We picked up speed, and I felt the bolts of hot tension building down my spine, through my legs.
“God, Dylan, I’m coming,” I moaned, and the feel of him and my fingers pushed me over the edge. My head fell back against his shoulder harder than I’d intended, but my neck muscles weren’t cooperating. Suddenly I was drowning, not in water but in sensation. He was all around me and over me and in me. Through my lowered lids I could see Dylan’s dark hair, plastered to his face, the water beading on his dark eyelashes.
My spasms seemed to get him there, and he groaned my name as he jerked out of me and spilled himself on my back, one hand braced against the wall beside me. Dylan collapsed forward, pressing me against the wall. I could feel his wet hair against the side of my face and his heart jackhammering in his chest.
We stayed there for minutes, me leaning against the tile, him above me. His face was tucked into my shoulder, his lips on my neck. I could feel his hot breath and its pace gradually slowed. The hot water continued to rain down on us, oblivious to all that had happened.
“You’re killing me, Lex.” When he finally regained enough composure, he grinned and kissed my cheek. “Not that I’m complaining.”
I let him pull me back to my bed after that, grateful the girls were gone for the day. I had no idea what I’d do if they walked in and found out what, and more importantly who, I’d just done. But I forced it ou
t of my head.
“Can I tell you something? Promise you won’t jump down my throat.” Dylan was propped up on his side, trailing his finger over my shoulder as I lay on my back beside him.
I looked at him, suspicion on my face. “OK.”
“I used to think about you sometimes,” he confessed. “In high school.” My eyebrows shot up but he continued. “I’d see you in the hall, or at my house with Ava, and you were always so much … more than the girls my age.” His smile grew smug. “I never pictured you naked until I was sixteen though.”
“Seriously?” I hit him lightly in the shoulder, though part of me warmed thinking about it.
“Yeah. Teenaged guys are sick like that.” He grinned, not looking apologetic in the least.
“But we never hung out.”
Dylan shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I remember your eighteenth birthday, you were wearing these black leggings and those boots with a spikey heel.” His head tilted back like he was remembering. “I used to imagine you wrapping those legs around me, my fingers grabbing all that red hair.” Dylan drew a strand though his fingers as he talked. “Do you still have those boots?” His eyes glanced toward my closet and I laughed.
I would’ve hit him again but was too busy wondering what else he’d imagined. As much as it shouldn’t have been hot, it was.
“And now that you’ve had reality to compare it to?” I teased him.
The smile stayed on his face but his eyes lost some of their humor. “You’re a thousand times better in real life, Lex. Nothing compares to this.”
Wow. OK.
“But it’s not just … this.” He trailed a finger down my arm gently. Returned his gaze to mine. “It’s you. You’re so unlike the other girls here. Smart and funny and driven.”
I was still trying to drum up words. They weren’t coming.
Dylan sensed I didn’t have anything to say and continued. “Your ass isn’t half bad either.”
This time I hit him. It seemed easier than trying to process his words.
“I guess growing up isn’t the worst thing in the world.” He winked and dropped his mouth to my shoulder, trailing light kisses across to my collarbone. He was as sweet and leisurely as he’d been hot and desperate minutes before.
“What else is better? Now that you’re all grown up and everything.” When I found the casual words, my voice was languid.
“School’s actually been pretty great.” Was he actually talking about school now? I tried to focus.
“Is the new school, new image program working? Or is the preppy bad boy thing following you here?”
“Preppy bad boy? Is that how you think of me?” He looked amused.
“Maybe. You have to admit, you give off this James Dean vibe. But in a very likeable way.”
“Uh-huh. Well I don’t know about this preppy bad boy thing, but I have made some pretty good friends.” He pulled back and was quiet for a moment. Dylan was getting that introspective look.
“So what about high school? The popularity and the parties and everything. Was that just you going along with it?” I had wanted to ask for a while but hadn’t found the right moment. Wasn’t sure this was it but figured I’d try.
He was silent for a moment, gazing up at the ceiling before he responded. “There’s something you need to understand. I didn’t ask to be … whatever I was. It was like I woke up in someone else’s life. In high school everyone wanted to be my friend. I didn’t know why, but for a while, it didn’t matter. It was what I thought I wanted.
Dylan glanced over at me. “When you’re sixteen what’s better than being the center of attention, right? But after a while the sheen wears off. You realize a lot of the people that smile and laugh and pat you on the back really aren’t your friends. They’ll take what you say and twist it, use it against you. And there are all these expectations.
“The parties got out of hand. One time I was busted for possession. I didn’t even use, but knew lots of people that did. Lots of my so-called ‘friends.’” He shook his head. “The fine wasn’t a big deal, but my dad found out and made me do two hundred hours of volunteering to make up for it.
“By that point I was just going through the motions because it was easier to keep up appearances than to get out of it. The kicker for me was the thing with my dad. When I decided to cover for him, all my friends vanished. Then when I came back, it was like I was either a rock star or a pariah. That’s when I knew I needed to start over.”
It was possibly the most he’d shared with me at a time. I mulled it over while he continued.
“That’s part of the reason I was looking forward to school. I just wanted to be me and not the guy everyone thinks I am. Not worry about what blowing four years of expectations out of the water might do.
“I’ve met some pretty cool people.” He grinned to let me know present company was included. “Even the guys at the house are great. And though I wasn’t sure if my knee would hold up enough to play varsity, I talked to the coach and he’s going to let me try.
“Classes are probably even better than at Penn. I’ve wanted to be an engineer since junior year, but it’s like I can actually see it now.”
“Why?” I was intrigued by everything he said but latched onto the last part. Though it was clear that Dylan was one of the smartest guys I knew, I wouldn’t have pegged him for having been on a career trajectory that early. Plus, I wanted to keep him talking. I loved hearing him, what he was thinking, without having to guess at it.
“I want to build things that matter. Things that connect people, and support people. To create something that lasts.” He sounded so earnest. When I thought about it, it was totally him. As much as he could never fly under the radar, he was a behind-the-scenes guy. One who cared more about substance than flash, and doing what mattered more than what was easy. One who kept his closest secrets guarded. Except, for some reason, with me.
It felt strange hearing him talk this way. Until this year I’d always thought of him as a slightly younger, darker version of Jake—the guy with the charmed life who got everything and everyone he wanted without lifting a finger. But each revelation peeled back yet another layer, adding to what I’d already learned of Dylan. And the more I learned, the closer I felt to him.
“What are you thinking?” His brow furrowed.
“I was wondering why you do all those things for your family. Even though it cost you.” It didn’t sound like they entirely deserved him.
“Family’s not perfect, but you only get one, you know? I feel like cutting them some slack is the right thing to do.” I knew that I wouldn’t go to the wall for my family the way he had for his.
“You’re a pretty great guy, you know that?” His eyes searched my face like he was looking for something more.
And I realized suddenly that I actually wanted more. At least, wanted this—whatever this was—and the affection that came with it. Wanted not to have to banish the thoughts of him. Wanted to be able to watch a movie, and have incredible shower sex, and do normal things a guy and girl who liked each other did. To see if there was something here I’d somehow been oblivious to because of Ava, because of our age difference.
With that sudden surge of conviction, right at this moment, I wanted to blow his mind.
Dylan latched onto my devious expression. “What’s that look?” He was clearly intrigued and suspicious.
I pushed him back and moved on top of him, our gazes still locked. When my mouth descended on his, I felt his body flex as I pressed him into the bed under me. My teeth scraped his bottom lip and his hands grabbed fistfuls of my hair, used the leverage to angle me better against him.
I could have kissed him forever, but there were other priorities at the moment. Other things I wanted to do more.
My mouth dragged down his throat before I changed to a lighter touch, kissing down his pecs. Dylan’s breathing turned ragged in an instant. I glanced back up at him and was rewarded with heavy-lidded eyes gazing down at me. Understa
nding dawned. “Lex, you don’t—”
I continued down over his abs. My long hair trailed over his semi-erect cock and I could feel him tense under me. My hand replaced my hair, the lightest touch of my fingers across the head of his hard length. Then my fingers wrapped more firmly around him and squeezed.
“Who’s going to stop me?” I grinned, made reckless by the feel of him in my hand, the intoxicating sight of him already starting to come apart under me. “You?”
“Definitely not. I like a woman who knows her mind.” Dylan’s voice was rough. I loved that I did that to him.
When I took him into my mouth, my tongue swirling slowly around his tip, he groaned. I did it again, sucking lightly. “You’re unbelievable,” he uttered hoarsely. One of his hands tentatively reached out to wrap in my hair again, but he didn’t pull me harder onto him. So after several licks and strokes I did it myself, sliding my mouth down and opening my throat to take him as far in as I could. I wanted to make it amazing for him.
If the guttural sounds coming from deep within him were any indication, Dylan wasn’t disappointed. I built him up as slowly as I could to prolong the feeling, pausing a few times to take him down a few notches when I thought he was close to the edge.
After several minutes he was definitely building again, and I was nearly as ready to explode as he was. The hand in my hair had become more assertive, pulling a bit harder than I was used to, but I sensed he didn’t realize or notice what he was doing. It thrilled me that I could make Dylan come so unglued. The fact that no one else had had the privilege only made it better.
He was close, and I moaned with my mouth on him, my lips and throat vibrating. Dylan’s body tensed like he’d been shocked and he tried to push me off of him. I held on, and he came hard in my mouth. The best part? The way he shouted my name when he did.
I pulled myself up to lie on my side and peer down at him. He looked deliciously wrecked, like he’d been crawling through the Sahara on his hands and knees with no water for weeks.
After a minute he pried his eyes open, and I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. His eyes were warm and satisfied as he gazed up at me.