“Until the sugar,” she says. It’s quiet for just a moment, then we both start laughing.
“I totally forgot about the powdered sugar,” I say as it starts flooding back into my brain. “I don’t think he’d ever seen it before. He didn’t know that it clumps up and you can’t just pour it out.”
“Yeah!” Cate says. I can feel her body shake as she laughs. “He almost dumped the whole bag onto the table, remember? It got everywhere.”
“Oh man, he was so angry about that,” I say, grinning at the memory. “We offered to help him clean up, but he didn’t want anything to do with it.”
“Such a stubborn, stubborn boy,” she says, shaking her head.
She’s right. He always has been.
We stay like that, her in my arms, back against my chest, just enjoying the moment while our laughter cools off.
“I missed you, Dylan,” she finally says, snuggling back against me with a happy sigh.
I suddenly become acutely aware of the fact that I’m holding on to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. I can feel the slope of her magnificent breasts beneath my forearm and her ass pressing into me like it had been custom-made to fit.
My whole body flushes as she moves against me, and when my cock starts to harden, I know there’s no way that Cate’s not going to notice. I’m frozen for a second, torn between not wanting to mess things up with someone I’ve always considered one of my best friends—time and distance notwithstanding—and a whole different kind of wanting.
Before I can panic, she presses back against me harder, her ass firmly against my cock, cradled between her cheeks.
Okay, then. She noticed, and her body is telling me exactly what she needs.
“I missed you, too,” I say quietly, sliding my hands down to wrap around her hips.
I pull her against me more firmly, and she moans softly—the single sexiest sound I’ve ever heard—and raises a hand to my head, cupping the side of my face as she cranes her neck back to look up at me.
Any hesitation I had is gone when I see the naked desire in her eyes. Cate wants this as much as I do. I can read her as well as I always could. She needs it.
And I’m always going to do my best to give Cate exactly what she needs.
4
Cate
The air in the kitchen turns electric as my lips meet Dylan’s, a charge passing through us as if a circuit finally connected. His hands are huge and heavy on my hips, almost burningly hot, and they feel incredible.
I wonder if my touch on his cheek feels as searing to him.
His tongue grazes my lips, then withdraws, and I bite back a moan at the denial as I fight to get some of my sanity back. He makes me feel safe, and I’m acting on pure instinct right now.
I never do that.
“Dylan,” I whisper. My mouth is dry, and I lick my lips. What am I going to say? I have no idea, but my body seems to have a will of its own, and it knows exactly what it wants.
My hips press back against him, feeling the thick hardness of him against my bottom, the comforting wall of his muscular body at my back and a thrill goes through me, wild and new, intertwined with a thread of apprehension. I’ve never been this bold with anyone, never skipped past the careful three-date rule, never been the one to make the first move toward getting physical.
Never felt wanton.
I can feel Dylan tense up when I say his name. His hands tighten on my hips, and I know his mind must be warring with his body, just like mine is.
This is shameless.
This is so… not me. So totally beyond anything I’ve ever dreamed about doing, even when I imagine myself as a better and stronger and more confident version of me. I hadn’t known he’d be downstairs when I’d stormed after Jack, I’d just been so mad that I’d barely been able to see straight… which is also not like me.
I don’t rock the boat or make waves.
I’m definitely not the type to flounce around in lingerie and seduce a guy at the drop of a hat.
I’m definitely not the type to get so turned on that it’s an effort to think straight. Hell, usually, thinking too much is one of my biggest problems in bed.
A naughty thrill goes through me. There’s no bed in sight, and this isn’t just any guy, either. This is Dylan, my very best friend growing up and the one guy I’ve always felt safe with. The one person my age that I’ve always been able to relax with, even at my most insecure. Even now, half-naked in the kitchen and feeling bolder than I ever have in my life.
“We don’t have to,” Dylan says, even though I can feel how much a certain part of him wants to. Wants me. “This is fast, I know… I’m sorry, I won’t push if you don’t want.”
His voice is rough, ragged with desire, but there’s concern in it, too. That concern makes me smile, makes the last bit of worry unknot from around my heart.
If I had any doubts, Dylan has made it crystal clear that I’m the one in the driver’s seat. It’s the last piece of the puzzle, confirmation that the kind, gentle boy I remember has transformed into this incredibly sexy, considerate man.
Dylan won’t hurt me. Dylan would never hurt me.
I look up into his eyes—a warm hazel that I could get lost in—and the expression in his gaze fills me with both an intoxicating sweetness and a wild hunger, all at the same time.
“I want this, Dylan,” I murmur, even now amazed at what I’m about to do. I gently guide one of his hands up my body, covering my breast. “I want you.”
Honestly, I’m a little shocked by just how true it is. Just saying it out loud sends a hot, damp rush between my legs, and I moan—not the practiced, deliberate version I’ve used with other men, but one that slips out of me unbidden.
I want him.
The effect is immediate, like I’ve unleashed him. Dylan takes charge of my body, spinning me to face him and leaning down to capture my mouth with his. The kiss is both gentle and ravenous.
It’s exactly what I need.
I can’t help but moan against his mouth again—aching at the taste of him and desperate for more—and when the sound makes his cock jerk against me, I feel powerful. Hot. Wanted.
Dylan’s hands roam my body like he wants to touch every bit of me at once, and every place he caresses feels like just the right spot, driving me wild. I’m panting, my heart racing out of control as he teases me with his fingertips, testing and pausing to see how I react.
For the first time in my life, I’m getting what I’ve always fantasized about: a man who takes the time to get to know my body instead of just using it for his own brief pleasure. Despite the throbbing length of his erection pressed against me, Dylan is taking the time to learn my body—discovering me—and I feel like I’m going to go out of my mind with how intense it feels to be touched with such desire and care.
I don’t know if it’s a few seconds or endless, delicious minutes. I only know that his mouth is on my throat… on my shoulder… that I’m leaning into his touch and making desperate little noises and aching, trembling for more. My whole body feels like someone struck a tuning fork and now all of me is vibrating with the need for this man.
He slides his thigh between my legs, strong with muscle, and I grind myself against him shamelessly. I’m probably soaking through my slacks right now, dripping wet with need for him, and I don’t even care. There’s no space in me for shame or self-consciousness with Dylan, there’s only this growing, greedy hunger beating a rhythm through my blood that I couldn’t deny even if I wanted to.
And God, I don’t.
I can feel the hardness of him through our clothes, and even that brief contact is almost too much for me to take. It makes me crazy. It’s not enough. I tug at his shirt a little desperately, fumbling at the buttons with fingers that feel like they belong to someone else.
“Off, off,” I beg him, my voice raw with how badly I need him.
Far, far in the back of my mind, there’s a part of me that wants to blush at my own audacity, b
ut that part is quickly overruled as the cotton of Dylan’s button-down finally slides away to reveal the strong, smooth, cut chest I had just now felt against me. My mouth literally waters as he draws me close against him again, pulling me into another hungry kiss as his hands seek the clasp of my bra.
There’s a split second of cold air on my breasts before the heat of Dylan’s touch envelops them, his thumbs teasing my tight nipples in a way that makes me whimper against his mouth, that makes more heat shoot down to my core, pushing between my legs as I cling to him and rock against his hard thigh.
I need more, I need everything, and I need it now.
I reach for Dylan’s belt, but he catches my hands, pulling away from the kiss and grinning down at me. I catch my breath for a second. That look, it’s so sexy I want to bottle it. It makes me want to melt. Or beg. But I don’t have to do either.
This is Dylan. He knows me.
He gently holds my wrists and my knees go weak at the strength I can feel in his hands. It grounds me. Frees me. I want to be in his hands. I trust him.
And oh God, I’m so turned on by him right now.
“Please,” I say, nodding down toward the belt he stopped me from opening. I don’t want to wait.
“You first,” Dylan says, humor and wicked desire sparkling in his eyes. He pops open the button of my slacks and tugs them off my hips with quick, deft motions of his fingers, the soft wool slipping deliciously down my bare legs in a way that makes me shiver. My whole body is sensitized; everything feels erotic.
Dylan moves his hands up to my sides, gently caressing my curves as he kisses a line down my chest, over my stomach, his mouth like a brand against my skin.
“You’re so gorgeous, Cate,” he rumbles, and butterflies of pleasure and delight flutter through me. For once—from him—I believe the words. The desire and worship in his voice are unmistakable.
My hips tilt forward on their own as Dylan hooks his big thumbs under the creamy lace of my panties, every atom of me eager to help him, eager to be closer to him. His hands slide slowly downward—his touch both firm and delicate as he frees me from my lingerie—then he rocks back on his heels and looks up at me from the kitchen floor.
Dylan is enormous, even kneeling in front of me, and his height and strength make me feel delicate. Cherished. Especially with him staring up at me like I’m some kind of goddess.
“You’re perfect, Cate,” he says, his voice rough and low.
The sexy sound sends a full-body shiver through me, and I reach out my hands to him, too full of feeling and need to form any words of my own.
I don’t need them. Not with him.
Dylan gives me a slow, hot smile, then rises to his feet so fast it makes me dizzy. Before I know what hits me, he’s scooped me up like I weigh nothing at all and set me down on the kitchen counter. My legs open wide in an instinctive invitation, and he traces his fingers over my skin, trailing them down my chest and stomach to graze the tops of my thighs. A low, needy sound comes out of my mouth without any thought, and I arch into his touch, trying to get the most sensation out of each feather-light, unbearable caress.
When his fingertips finally make their way to the cleft between my thighs, I practically sob with relief.
The cool air of the kitchen is sharp on my wet skin, and every inch of me is buzzing with a kind of arousal I didn’t even know was possible. I’m wetter than I think I’ve ever been in my entire life. My indulgence in the bath already feels a million years away. Did it prime me for this?
I don’t know.
I can’t think.
I’m sure, though, that I’d be soaking wet for Dylan—for this gorgeous, perfect man—no matter what the circumstances. I’ve never felt this way before. Not like this.
Dylan’s eyes lock onto mine as his fingers stroke my entrance, easing into me confidently. Smooth and slow and exactly like I like it, as if he really does know my body, even though this is the first time for us.
I can’t contain a whimper of pleasure; I’m a slave to the way he’s making me feel, to the incredible intensity racing through me, threatening to overwhelm me entirely.
“Do you know how sexy that sounds?” he whispers, using his free hand to push my thighs open even wider.
I whimper again, trembling as it turns into a long, drawn-out moan of pleasure. I’m shameless. If he keeps teasing me like this, I’m going to go completely insane.
I reach up with both hands, cupping Dylan’s face and yanking him toward me for a kiss that tastes like heaven. I twine my legs around his hips, and I can feel the power coiled in his body. It makes me tremble, every nerve in me screaming to get as close to him as humanly possible.
Now.
I try to tug him forward, digging my heels into the small of his back like spurs, desperate to make him feel the same primal urgency that’s overwriting my reason. How can he be so patient?
“Dylan, please,” I groan. No… I beg. “Please.”
My breath hitches as his fingers move deeper inside me, stroking that perfect spot while his thumb grazes over my clit in slow arcs that make me feel like I’m going to come undone. The idea of him stopping is almost physically painful, but I need more.
“I need you, Dylan,” I pant desperately. His pupils are blown wide with desire, the heat in his eyes almost enough to send me over the edge right then and there. “I need all of you, Dylan. Please.”
His eyes squeeze shut for a moment, his throat working, before he looks at me and nods sharply.
“One second.” It comes out as a low growl, at odds with his carefully controlled movements as he withdraws his hand—making me whimper again at the feeling of loss, the void inside me a torturous ache—and then unhooks my legs from around his hips. He gently settles them against the counter, taking a step back, and I start to tremble.
Does he… does he not want me?
Dylan rubs a hand over his jaw, his eyes raking over my body with unmistakable longing, and the heat in his eyes reassures me.
I stare at the bulge in his jeans. Why did he stop?
“I’ll… fuck, Cate, you’re gorgeous.” He swallows hard, tries again. “I’ll be right back.”
“Dylan,” I protest, pressing a hand against my mound. I don’t want my own touch again, though. I want him. Inside me.
He stares at me hungrily for a second, then groans and sprints out of the room. I hear him rummaging around in the bathroom and some muffled swearing, and then he’s back, holding a gold foil packet between forefinger and thumb.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, capturing my mouth in a quick, hot kiss that tells me he really is feeling everything I am before pulling back with another one of those sexy, slow smiles. “I got carried away, Cate. Almost forgot to take care of you.”
I stare at him, uncomprehending, and then my heart seems to skip a beat with mingled horror and relief. I’ve spent my whole life following the rules, being so careful, and Dylan’s got me so worked up that I was going to throw that all out the window.
I completely forgot protection. I wasn’t thinking at all, just feeling.
Needing.
“I’m, uh, I’m on the pill,” I manage to stammer out as Dylan carefully opens the little packet. I know that’s not enough, though. Normally, I’m almost religious about safety.
Dylan really is taking care of me.
I give him a smile that feels sheepish and weak… but it’s still all I can do not to grab him.
“Thank you. For keeping a clear head.”
Dylan laughs, setting the condom down on the counter beside me and pulling me in for another kiss.
“Barely,” he admits. “Just… I want to do everything right by you, Cate. Always.”
My cheeks are warm and a lovely, soft heat is springing to life in my heart; a counterpoint to the throbbing inferno still raging inside me.
Dylan steps back between my thighs, nudging them wide with his hips. He looks at me for a long moment, and his hands return to settle on my hips.
/>
“Look at you,” he says softly, then groans as I let my fingers splay over his broad chest. “Cate, my God. You’re perfect—completely perfect.”
I thought I was past blushing, but the praise hits me somewhere deep and I feel heat radiating out through my skin. It mingles with the dizzying burn of my own lust, amplifying something I thought couldn’t get any more intense and making me moan. I can’t form the words—I’m too overwhelmed by need—and I press my nails into Dylan’s skin, pulling him forward with my legs.
This time, mercifully, he grants my unspoken wish; his hands go to his belt, undoing it and letting his jeans fall to the kitchen floor. His cock springs free, finally allowing me a look at the steel-hard thickness I’ve been feeling against me, and I almost gasp. The size of him, the way it twitches as he looks at me, the drop of pre-cum glistening at the fat head of him…
Mine.
The thought comes unbidden, and my mouth waters as I watch him wrap himself up.
Dylan looks up and meets my gaze, and his smile nearly destroys me. He leans in and kisses me, his huge hands sinking into my hair and pulling me in tight in a way that sends a jolt of delight sparking through me. He plunders my mouth with his tongue, and still it’s not enough. I’m trembling, the taste of him making my blood sing. I wrap my arms around his neck and draw him closer, and Dylan reaches between our bodies, his cock pressing against my slick entrance.
Finally.
I gasp as he presses into me slowly, and even as drenched and ready as I am, my eyes go wide. There’s just so much of him, impossibly hard and searing hot inside of me, and the feeling of my body stretching around him is so profound that I cry out and clutch at his neck.
I’ve never felt so full in my life, never felt so completely connected to someone as I do right now with Dylan finally inside me and his strong arms cradling me and his sweet, worshipful words filling my ears.
His hands clutch at my hips as he waits for me to adjust to his size, and I can feel him quivering with the effort of holding himself back.
Mine: MMF Bisexual Menage Romance Page 5