by Emery Rose
The funny part? He loaded up the next piece of sashimi with even more wasabi than the last one. His eyes were streaming now. It was so ridiculous I couldn’t stop laughing.
“You’re ridiculous,” I said, eying him over the rim of my teacup.
“I know,” he said with a laugh.
Tonight I was getting to see a different side of Dylan. He was fun and playful, his posture relaxed and I was really beginning to believe that the news of Sienna’s engagement hadn’t rocked his world or crushed his heart.
“Are you a masochist?” I dipped a piece of shrimp tempura roll in my bowl of soy sauce and popped it into my mouth. Mmm, so good.
“I like the head rush.”
“You’re weird,” I said around a mouthful of sushi, my chopsticks already reaching for a piece of salmon nigiri from the sushi platter we were sharing. That’s how greedy I was.
“So are you.”
“Thank you,” I said, accepting it as the compliment it was intended to be. “Were you a glue sniffer when you were a kid?”
“Nah.” He gave me a crooked grin with those pouty lips of his, the grin so boyish and adorable it was disarming. “Whip-its was where it was at.”
“Never tried it.”
He stabbed his chopsticks into the last piece of miso blackened cod, beating me to it. My jaw dropped, my chopsticks poised above the now-empty blue glazed dish, and he laughed at the look on my face when he popped it into his mouth. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
Ha. Well, he’d never be accused of being a gentleman. I settled for the gyoza instead. Not like I was going to go hungry. Dylan had ordered enough food for six, not two. “When did your whip-it addiction start?” I asked, taking a sip of my tea while I surveyed the options in front of me. Seared tuna or another gyoza?
“When I was about eight or nine, we lived in this old lady’s house in Savannah. Dot. She kept whipped cream in the fridge for her ice cream sundaes. I loved that shit. Best day ever when I figured out that if you suck on the nuzzle, it gives you a high. Poor Dot. Made her crazy thinking she ran out of it again or forgot to buy it. I used to steal it and hide it in my room as soon as she bought a new one.”
I laughed. “A thief and a druggie at eight.”
“Started young.”
I decided that I’d eaten enough and if I had another bite, I’d explode so I poured myself another cup of tea from the ceramic pot on the table. “How many places have you lived?”
He set down his chopsticks and leaned back in his seat, taking a swig of his beer. “Too many to count.”
“Why did you move so much?” I asked, curious to know more about his childhood. More about him and where he came from and what his life was like.
He shrugged one shoulder, his gaze roaming the small, minimalist sushi restaurant. We were in one of the wood booths across from a long sushi bar where the chefs served customers seated at the bar. “My mom was always looking for something better.”
“What did she do for a living?” I asked, wondering if their frequent moves were work-related.
“She bartended. Among other things.”
I waited to hear what ‘other things’ meant but he was done talking.
“You done?” he asked while simultaneously motioning for the check. Our waiter was so efficient he was at our booth, check in hand, within seconds.
I still had a cup of tea to drink and food to digest. Meanwhile, Dylan was already handing the waiter his credit card.
God. This guy. As soon as he divulged a tiny bit about himself or his past, he shut me down.
“Don’t shake it. Cover the nozzle with your mouth and inhale.”
“Am I doing it right?”
“Take it in deeper. Wrap your lips around it.”
I smacked his arm, laughing. “Enough with the double entendre.”
“Look at you and your fancy French words.”
I was laughing so hard and I hadn’t even done the whip-it yet.
Dylan reversed out of his parking spot in front of the convenience store and pulled out onto the road while I tried to come to grips with how to do a whip-it. I angled the can into my mouth and covered the nozzle then sucked on it for a few seconds before releasing it. It made me lightheaded, a little woozy but I didn’t love it. I tried it a few more times for good measure then shook the can and squirted whipped cream into my mouth.
“Mmm.” I’d rather eat the whipped cream than get the nitrous oxide high. “Dessert.”
“Fuck. You’re making me hard.” Leaving one hand on the wheel, Dylan adjusted himself in his jeans.
“Watching me eat whipped cream is making you hard?” I teased, squirting more whipped cream into my mouth. I grinned at him and leaned over the center console, armed with a can of Reddi-Wip. “Open up.”
Angling his head toward me, one eye still on the road, he opened his mouth and I filled it with whipped cream. Then he grabbed the can out of my hand and flung it into the backseat, guiding my hand down so I could feel what I’d done to him.
Feeling bold and adventurous, I unbuttoned his jeans and slid down the zipper. He tried to push my hand away. “I want to touch you,” I insisted.
“What did I say?” he reminded me. This guy was so stubborn, I knew he wouldn’t back down from what he’d said.
“Are you saying that you’d rather wait…” My hand wrapped around him through his briefs. I’d never touched him before but now I could feel how thick and hard he was and I wanted more of him. “That you’d rather deny yourself?”
He captured my hand in his and moved it away. “Are you saying you’d rather deny yourself?” he countered.
I licked my lips, feeling the inexplicable urge to taste him. To feel him inside me. To have all of him, any way I could get it. I wanted it. Wanted him. And he wouldn’t let me have him unless it was all or nothing. Ollie had always been so careful with me. He’d treated me like I was made of glass. Fragile. Breakable. A part of me must have known that it wasn’t enough for him, that he’d wanted more of me. Yet he’d never pushed me too hard. And now I understood why. He was scared of losing me. Whereas Dylan was the opposite. He pushed me to the limits because that was how he lived. Like he had nothing to lose.
It made me feel daring. Teetering on the edge of that rock cliff, on the verge of free falling into the unknown. That was how it always felt with Dylan.
Unclipping my seatbelt, I got on my knees and leaned across the center console.
“What are you doing, Starlet?”
“Giving you a blowjob.”
“Say it. Say the words.”
I took a deep breath and shoved my inhibitions aside. It was easier in the dark, the only light coming from his dash so he couldn’t see my cheeks flaming. “I want to wrap my lips around your cock.”
Dylan groaned, this low guttural sound that went straight to my core, and pushed down the waistband of his briefs. His dick sprang free, and I stared at it as if I’d never seen a penis in my life. Okay, I was not the most experienced girl around. But Dylan’s was thick and long and hard, pointing straight up and it just looked so damn big to me. Was it bigger than average? Oh God, why was I thinking about the size of his dick? Probably because it was about to be inside my mouth. And maybe other places.
The stars tattooed on his abs were aligned but this time I didn’t feel the urge to laugh. Not even a little bit.
My hand wrapped around the base and I squeezed, feeling it twitch and grow harder in my hand as I guided the tip to my mouth and wrapped my lips around it. I had no idea what the hell I was doing. I gave it a few licks.
“It’s not a fucking popsicle,” he growled. “If you’re going to do this, you do it my way.”
“What does that mean?”
I soon found out. His hand tangled in my hair and he held the back of my head, guiding me to where he wanted me.
“Suck hard,” he commanded.
I tried to take in as much of him as I could. I’d never been into giving blow jobs befo
re, and the times I’d tried, I ended up chickening out and giving a hand job. But hearing Dylan’s ragged breathing and the words that came out of his dirty mouth like a growl had me so turned on, I was squeezing my thighs together to ease the delicious ache as I sucked him hard, my cheeks hollowed. And even though I had no idea what I was doing, it didn’t seem to matter.
It made me feel powerful to know that he was coming undone because of me, thrusting into my mouth so hard and so deep I could feel him at the back of my throat. I gagged a little but found my rhythm as we barreled down the freeway, Blackbear’s “Girls Like U” blasting from the speakers.
“I’m going to come,” he warned.
“Mmm hmm,” I hummed, the vibration pushing him over the edge.
“Fuuck,” he said as spurts of warm, salty liquid came into my mouth. I felt the car swerve a little until he righted it because, of course, the first time I gave someone a blowjob I’d do it in a speeding car while they were driving.
I ran my tongue over the slit, catching the last drop before I released him and sat back on my heels, licking my lips. He glanced over at me before he returned his attention to the road and tucked himself back in his jeans, zipping them up but leaving the button undone.
“Not bad for someone who doesn’t give blowjobs.”
“Not bad?” I asked, brows raised in indignation.
“Pretty fucking amazing.” I smirked. “Take off your jeans.”
“Why?” I looked out the windshield and confirmed that we were still on the freeway.
“Just do it.”
I hesitated a moment then sat the right way around in my seat and undid my jeans, convinced that if he asked me to jump off the Golden Gate, I’d do it. I kicked off my black Vans and lifted my butt off the seat to push them down. Wriggling out of my jeans, I tossed them on the floor, leaving me in pale pink cotton boy shorts. I was wearing a black lacy bra under my off-the-shoulder black sweater.
“Touch yourself.”
“Touch myself?” I asked stupidly.
“Mmm hmm.”
I’d never done anything like this before. Not in front of someone. But the ache between my thighs was so delicious it was almost painful, and the thought of making myself come while he watched excited me. So I fastened my seatbelt, planted my bare feet on the dash and slouched down in my seat, slipping my hand inside my panties. I was already so wet, my clit so swollen and throbbing, it wouldn’t take much at all to make myself come.
“Fuck your fingers,” he said.
I slipped two fingers inside and slid them in and out, my breath coming out in little pants, my thumb rubbing the tight bundle of nerves.
“That’s it. Slower. Yes, just like that,” he rasped. His hand moved on top of mine and increased the pressure of my own, forcing me to go in deeper. “Let me see you come undone.”
My thighs quivered and my walls contracted around my fingers, my vision blurring as the orgasm crashed over me like a wave, building in intensity until it rocked my body. I collapsed against my seat, my feet hitting the floor and slowly I returned to the here and now. My cheeks heated when the realization that I’d just masturbated in front of Dylan sunk in. He, however, had no qualms whatsoever.
“You’re so fucking beautiful. Let me taste you.”
I guided my fingers to his mouth and his lips wrapped around them, sucking on my fingers like they were his favorite treat.
Grabbing the back of my neck, he yanked me toward him, crushing his mouth to mine and shoving his tongue inside. The taste of me mingled with the taste of him as our tongues tangled and danced with no rhythm and the clashing of teeth. My seatbelt flew back in the holder with the flick of his hand and he dragged me into his lap, the steering wheel digging into my backside, my fingernails scraping his skull. There was nothing sweet about this kiss. It was hungry and primal and urgent and I could feel him growing hard again, his erection pressing against my thigh.
When he pulled away, I was panting for more, giddy and half delirious, ready to promise him anything he asked. His hooded eyes roamed my face, and his lips tilted up on one side in that sexy, half-smile, like he’d read my mind.
Coming to my senses, I glanced out the window. We were parked in his driveway and I hadn’t even noticed. This was happening. I was under no illusions. Tonight we were going to cross the line. Obliterate it.
“You want me to drive you home?” he asked, giving me a chance to back out as his lips brushed the side of my neck and his calloused palm slid under my sweater, making it impossible to think straight.
I didn’t even hesitate, not for a single second. “No.”
“Thank fuck. Because tonight I’m going to ruin you for every other guy.”
That sounded like a promise.
“You’re gonna get dirty for me, Starlet,” he said, his voice husky. It was a statement, not a question.
Lord help me. I was hell-bound and about to become the dirtiest girl in town. There was no doubt in my mind that he would ruin me, and I had nobody to blame except myself. I was going to be an active participant in my own demise.
19
Dylan
We were barely through the door when I grabbed her waist and pushed her up against the closed door. I grabbed her hands and held them above her head, pinning them to the wood. Pressed up against her, I dragged my tongue down the shell of her ear, down her neck, and alternated between sucking and biting. She was squirming, trying to get closer to my cock, but I wasn’t giving in so easy.
I needed her craving me, wanting me more than she’d ever wanted anything. I needed her begging. Preferably on her knees, hands folded in prayer. I released her arms and lifted her sweater over her head. Her breasts spilled out over the cups of her black lacy bra and I needed to taste them.
Jesus, she was perfect. I didn’t even bother unclasping her bra—I pulled it down and sucked and teased her nipple, its rosy peak growing harder. Alternating between the right and left breast, she tugged my hair and chanted, “more, more.”
That’s right, I’d give her more than she’d ever had before.
My tongue and hands ran down her stomach as I squeezed her ass and she whimpered. I’d never get enough of that sound. On my knees now, I undid her pants and pulled them down, revealing the pale pink cotton boy shorts. It was so Scarlett, mixing the sweet and innocent with the forbidden. I found it sexy as hell that she didn’t care if I would prefer lace or silk. But they had to go. I slid them down her legs and licked and sucked her pussy. It was dripping, so fucking wet it would take me an hour to lick it clean.
“What do you want, Starlet?”
“You,” she said, panting, her short nails digging into my shoulders, her hips rocking, trying to fuck my face. Not happening. The next time I let her come, I’d be buried so deep inside her my dick would have its own zip code. “I want you.”
“Try again.” I pressed my calloused thumb against her swollen clit and she moaned, the sound going straight to my rock-hard cock and making it swell impossibly harder, straining against the zipper of my jeans. I knew that if I pressed hard enough, she’d explode and I didn’t want that. It was a miracle I hadn’t fucked her yet. “What do you want?”
“I want you to…” I teased her clit, just enough to get her whimpering, not enough to give her an orgasm then dragged my fingers through her wet lips, and pressed one finger against her other hole, circling it.
“Oh God,” she moaned as I got to my feet and glided my tongue around her nipple and between the valley of her breasts.
My hand wrapped around her throat, testing her reaction. “Harder,” she said, eyes at half-mast.
“Tell me what you want.” I squeezed harder before I withdrew my hand.
“I want you to fuck me,” she said, her eyes glazed over with lust, her voice low and seductive.
“That’ll do.” I kissed her hard before I lifted her off the ground, her legs encircling my waist, her mouth crushed to mine as I carried her up the stairs to my bedroom.
&nbs
p; Unceremoniously, I threw her on my bed and felt around in my bedside table drawer for the condoms I kept in there. She scooted back on the mattress, her eyes on me as her bra straps slid down her arms. I tossed half a dozen foil packets onto the bed and her eyes widened, a small gasp escaping her lips. I chuckled and stripped naked, her eyes still on me, her pretty pink tongue darting out to lick those plump lips that had been wrapped around my cock on the drive from Santa Ana. I’d nearly wrecked the fucking car but it would have been worth it.
“Get on your hands and knees for me,” I said, rolling a condom over my erection while she stared at it like she’d never seen one before.
She hesitated a moment, debating, and I got the feeling that I’d been right. Missionary was the extent of her sexual experience. That was about to change.
Starlet wasn’t always so compliant, she pushed back, she challenged me, but not this time. She wanted this. She got onto her hands and knees, her ass in the air and looked over her shoulder at me. My palm smacked the flesh of her ass cheek and she gasped as I spread her cheeks with my hands, dipped my head and bit one cheek and then the other, rimming her other hole with my finger. She pressed back against it, moaning loudly, desperate for more. I straddled her thighs, fisting my length, and guided my tip to her entrance. In one thrust, I was buried to the hilt and fuck, I had found my heaven. She was tight as a fist, her pussy so wet and warm and perfect I wanted to live inside it forever.
I stilled, giving her a moment to adjust before I started to move.
“Ohh… ohh…” she moaned, her arms giving out and her chest collapsing against the mattress, one side of her face pressed against my charcoal gray sheets. I fisted her hair and yanked her up off the mattress, and she looked over her shoulder at me. Leaning forward, I kissed her hard and deep, my hand reaching underneath her to rub her clit. She exploded instantly.
“Oh my God. Dylan,” she screamed, her tight walls clenching me, her whole body convulsing. My balls tightened and the sound of her harsh breathing and the feel of her trembling body threw me into an orgasm that temporarily blinded me. Not one of my best performances. How many minutes had I lasted? Not enough to retain my cock’s dignity, that was for damn sure. But I didn’t even care.