a final third time as I laugh. "What the hell was that for?" he asks.
"I was enjoying the moment," I state. "You ruined it. That was punishment."
The covers slip away as he shifts over me, pressing his bare chest against mine, the prickling hairs on his pecs rubbing against my nipples, making them tingle. I glance down, over the small pale scars that mar different parts of his body. Some of them surprise me because I recognize them. I know a knife wound when I see one. But I don't ask. We may have given in to the sexual chemistry, but neither of us trusts the other. Not yet.
"You never answered my question." He presses a kiss to my shoulder, one palm coming up to cup my breast.
I sigh as I relax into the mattress. "I was just thinking about my hometown," I say. Though his eyes flick up to scan my face, he doesn't reply. Instead, Dean spends the next several minutes working his way back down my body with light kisses and hard sucks until I'm writhing in his grasp.
His broad hands touch my thighs, spreading them wide and then he dives between them like a starving man. How he can do this again when he’s already done it so many times, I don’t know. I release a groan as his tongue circles my clit. My fingers tangle in his hair, scratching against the back of his skull. I press down, urging him to go faster, to make me come. He obliges and not long after, I'm gasping out yet another fast release as he arches up over me, cock hard, and mouth wet with my essence.
I don't turn away from him when he kisses me. Instead, I open my mouth to it. He moans against me, sucking my tongue in and tangling it with his own. It's dirty and raw, the sex between us. Not exactly what I expected—but in a good way. I'm happy to know that all of his swagger and confidence isn't unearned. At least, not in the bedroom.
My fingers touch his side, stroking over the dark inked lines of the tattoo of thorny roses etched into his skin. There's more on his back. The whole of his spine is nearly covered from his shoulder blades to the top of his ass, but I haven't gotten more than a few glimpses here and there. Nothing concrete to say for sure if it's just a bunch of little pieces or an entire masterpiece put together on the canvas of his flesh.
He groans and pulls his mouth from mine, resting his forehead between my breasts as he collapses. "I'm going to die from sex," he complains as I sift my fingers through his hair.
I chuckle. It's probably the most childlike he's ever sounded in front of me. Complaining about sex. "What a way to go, though," I reply absently.
He mumbles something, turning his cheek and nuzzling one of my breasts. Weirdo. We end up lying there for so long, I almost lose track of time. But it’s long enough that the sunset fades into night and darkness creeps into the room, leaving the two of us in shadows. I used to hate the darkness. A lot of bad things happen in the darkness. It was Micki that changed that for me. She taught me that everyone forgets that a lot of good things happen in the darkness too.
Darkness breeds intimacy.
In the early morning hours, there are more booty calls and deaths than any other time. Why? Because those are the prime hours of the dark. When vulnerability is at its peak. When—if death doesn’t come knocking—you crave the feeling of another body alongside your own.
Right here. Right now. I feel vulnerable. It's not something I'm used to and unlike what I expected, it doesn't make me uncomfortable. Because I don't feel alone in my vulnerability. Whether he'll admit it or not, Dean showed me a side of himself that I doubt many others get to see. The jealousy. The possessiveness. The sharp desire and will to control another human. They're all a part of him, making up who he is as a person and there's a reason behind it all. Just like I know there's a reason behind my need for adrenaline. I'm not an idiot. I know it's not natural, not normal. I know that the things my mind comes up with and the sick need for that rush of life right before I do