me.
He slowly moves toward me and stops when he’s a foot away. Pushing a strand of my hair away from my face, he says, “The only thing that makes a good fight worth it is a good fuck afterward.”
His words hit me right in the libido, and my insides squeeze with desire. “If you say so.”
He tilts his head as his eyes rove hungrily over my face. “We can add it to your list of rules if you want.”
Without another word, he dips his head and crushes my lips forcefully with his. It’s harsh and unapologetic, full of anger and passion and need and…something else. Something I can’t quite label.
I wrap my hands around his neck and whimper into his mouth because I had no idea that fighting could be foreplay. I had no idea that beneath all our harsh words was a simmering of desperate desire and an urgency to connect on a more carnal level.
Our tongues dance as we make our way toward my bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind us. Dean’s hands are rough on me, like he needs to touch me everywhere all at once and even then it’s not enough. The intensity is amazing. After all that frustration and miscommunication and confusion…this is the only thing that makes sense right now. He and I. Our bodies colliding.
“Dean,” I cry out his name when we’re both naked, and he’s tossed me on top of my duvet.
He finds his trousers in the doorway and pulls out a condom. He grunts impatiently as he rolls it on, his jaw taut with need. When he sees me lying there, naked with my chest heaving in anticipation, he shakes his head slowly, and says, “Fuck Norah, you’re so beautiful.”
The intensity in his gaze has me swooning, but before I can reply, he comes over me, holds my wrists against the bed, and slams deep inside. No prep, no swipe, no glance to see if I’m ready. He just knew I was ready. And God, was I ever. I couldn’t have been more ready. The soaked panties that were tossed somewhere in the kitchen were proof I’d been ready for a while.
What happens next isn’t a sweet, slow sexual encounter. Dean doesn’t take his time with my body and kiss every inch of it.
We fuck. Hard. Fast. And loud. Very, very loud.
Our foreheads press together as we climax at the same time, our gasps of release intermingling with one another. When our eyes connect, for a moment, a very brief moment, I let myself fantasize that Dean is my real boyfriend, and we had a real fight tonight. And what we just did was real makeup sex.
Not fake.
And the thing that makes all those fantasies feel like a reality…is the fact that Dean gets rid of his condom, crawls back into my bed, wraps my naked body in his arms, and kisses me softly before saying into my hair, “I’m sleeping here tonight…got a problem with that, sugar lips?”
“Fine by me,” I croak into his chest and bite my lip nervously as our breaths synch with one another.
He kisses my forehead and murmurs, “I’m sorry for getting upset tonight.”
I quietly gasp and reply, “I’m sorry too.”
He grunts a sound of approval, and in seconds, his breathing becomes deep and heavy as he falls asleep, still holding on to me, still breathing in my hair, still nuzzled into my cheek. It feels real. The fight, the makeup, the holding…it all feels real.
That’s okay, right? Because it was Dean who said rules were meant to be broken.
The morning light pours in through the bedroom’s frosted sliding doors, waking me way earlier than my body is ready for. When I come to, I’m spooning Norah like this is something I do on a regular basis.
It’s not.
In fact, I can’t remember the last time I spooned a woman, and now I’ve done it with Norah twice in only a week. Steeling myself, I press my nose into the back of her neck and inhale her sweet vanilla scent. It’s enough to get me hard if I wasn’t already sporting morning wood. I could so easily slip inside her right now, no condom, no barrier…just her flesh with mine. God, I bet she’d feel incredible bare. I wouldn’t have a chance at a twenty-minute dick without a condom.
Fuck, I need to get control of my thoughts or I’m going to climax in her damn sheets. I gently pull my arm off Norah, careful not to