Let Love Live (The Love Series #5) (34 page)

Making sure to keep my voice low, I greet Rachel with my standard, “Morning, sunshine” as she stumbles out of her bedroom. The curtains are all drawn, keeping out as much of the light as possible. “Medicine help any?”

She holds up two fingers, meaning
no
. “Wow, must have been a bad one if you don’t even want to talk.” One finger flies up, indicating an adamant
yes
. Lamely, we worked out this nearly uncrackable code for when her headaches are really bad. “Coffee?” One finger.

I slide her a mug, and slowly she lifts the rim to her face, inhaling the ribbons of steam. After a few sips, she’s able to open her eyes, blinking me into view. “We really need to get you to a new doctor.” Carefully, she nods in agreement.

Still not capable of speech just yet, I make her the usual day-after-a-migraine breakfast. The only noise that accompanies our meal is the birds chirping outside the window. Kicking back in my seat, I stretch out my legs and fold my arms behind my head. “Date went well?” Her quiet-as-a-mouse voice breaks the silence.

“Yeah.” I clear the table, careful not to make too much noise putting the dishes in the sink.

“So, how come you were home so early? I mean if it went as well as that shit-eating grin on your face suggests, it doesn’t make much sense that you were home before noon.” She shoots me an accusatory, but playful look. “And,” she drags out the word as she leans against the counter, “if it went so well, how come you were home
alone
all night?”

“I see the coffee is working,” I joke, handing her a dishtowel to dry the plates I’ve just washed. She holds up a finger, snagging the towel from my hand.

“Spill it.” Her elbow digs into my side, and she smiles playfully.

“To answer your questions, smart-ass, I was home early because I knew you had a migraine, so I was worried.” Admiration crinkles her brows, and lifts her lips in a soft, thankful smile. “And,” I hand her a coffee mug, “I stayed home last night because you spent all afternoon throwing up because of your headache and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” I pop a quick kiss to her forehead, and she leans against my side, hugging me as tightly as her sore head will allow her to.

“I love you, Con.” She gives me one more squeeze, looking up at me from my side. “I hate that you have to take care of me.”

“Want. I want to take care of you.”

“So, are you going to see him again?” Her eyes light up and I can tell she wants to bounce with excitement, and clap her hands, but her migraine keeps her actions muted. “Oh, can you bring him here?”

Shaking my head, I pull the towel from her hands and toss it at her face. “Yes, I will see him again, and he is not a show and tell project.” Rachel sticks her tongue out, wiggling it back and forth a few times for added emphasis.

Before walking away from her to get ready to work out, I add, “I’m going there tonight, actually.”

“Oh,” she elongates the word, not unlike some teenage girl would. “What do you guys have planned?”

“Not much,” I quip. “He doesn’t even know about it.”

Later that evening, with the takeout and a movie in hand, I press the buzzer for Dylan’s condo, nervous anticipation thrumming in my veins. Hearing the muffled sound of his bare feet approach the door only amps up my pulse. Shadows dance in the thin strip of light filtering from under the door as he looks through the peephole. Cursing the lack of my x-ray vision, I wish I could see the look of shock on his face when he registers it’s me on the other side.

“Am I missing something?” Disbelief affects the tone of his voice, making his words sound rushed, breathless almost. I almost don’t hear his question. The sight of him in low-slung sweatpants and a beat-up old t-shirt freezes all of my senses.

“Uh, no,” I stammer, holding up the food. Regaining my composure, and willing down the erection jutting against the fly of my jeans, I clear my throat. “Date three. It’s lame, but how does dinner and a movie sound?”

Making slits of his eyes, the bastard actually pretends to be considering my offer. Not one to miss the chance for a good tease myself, I turn to walk away. “No worries, we can just…” His strong fingers wrapping around my forearm stop me dead in my tracks.

“You win,” he concedes, stepping to the side of the door, allowing me just enough room to walk past him. I drop the food on the table and just as I turn to show him the movie I picked out, his body crashes into mine.

His lips, hot and demanding, part mine. His tongue plunges deep into the recesses of my mouth, licking, tasting, devouring, every inch it can. Unable to hold back any longer, my hands dive into his too-long hair, tugging hard on the ends. A grumble of appreciation vibrates in his chest as I pull his head to the side, exposing the tan skin of his neck.

“I thought you said
after
three dates,” he utters, breathlessly. My lips dance across his skin, stopping only to nibble on his ear lobe before pulling it into my mouth. The tip of my tongue traces along the outer shell of his ear as his body melts into mine.

“Semantics,” I whisper, reveling in the feel of him shuddering against me. I pull back from him, holding his face in my hands. The scruff of his light beard feels soft and prickly at the same time, the perfect mixture of textures.

Dylan’s hands reach for my ass, pulling me back into his body. “It’s about fucking time” is all he can manage before his lips crush mine. Our kiss is in perfect timing with the hard ridge of his cock rubbing against mine.

Clumsily, we stumble down the hallway, not moving our lips or hands from each other for a second. A picture crashes to the floor, but neither of us pay it any attention. The moment we’re over the threshold of his room, our shirts are off. Four hands roam all over miles of skin, raising goose bumps to the surface. Dylan lowers his mouth to my collarbone and further still across my chest. He flicks one nipple-ring with his tongue as he pinches the other and my cock grows an inch. In between moving his mouth to the other one, he mutters against my skin, “I like these.” His pale blue eyes look almost black, his pupils wide pools of bottomless desire.

When his teeth graze over my nipple, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body, I lose all sense of my control. We twist in a heap of limbs, falling to the bed. With the palm of my hand, I push him down onto a pillow and hook my thumbs into the waistband of his sweats. “I need to finish what I started last week.” Dylan raises his hips, giving me all the permission and assistance I need.

His cock springs free – thick and heavy, pulsing with a life of its own. Like some kind of magnetic force is acting between us, my hand is drawn to him. It needs to touch him, to learn every ridge and vein, to commit the feel of him to memory. As I stroke him, from root to tip, stopping to rub small circles on the sensitive underside of his engorged head with my thumb, I lean on my elbow, attacking his neck with my mouth. His jaw is clenched, straining under the pressure of his need. Nearing violence, his hips grind into my hand, pushing his cock against my palm on a loud groan. “Stop the teasing.” His words are breathless puffs, exhaled to the rhythm of him fucking my hand.

I sink my teeth into his shoulder, whispering “gladly.” Sliding down his body, his skin feels like hot silk – a heat I can’t wait to taste. Settling in between his legs, I lean back on my haunches, taking in the sight of him, spread for the taking. Holding the base of his cock steady, I lean forward, swirling my tongue hotly around the broadness of the head, savoring the salty bead of moisture waiting there for me. “Hmm,” I moan before taking more of him into my mouth.

His hand secures itself to the side of my face, holding me in place as he shoves more of himself down my throat. I let him fuck my mouth, enjoying the feel of him sliding deeply, back and forth. “So good… ahhh…Conner…” incoherent grumbles follow as he bulges and grows in my mouth. “Too close…Con…stop…”

I stop not because he tells me to, but because I have other plans. “What do you want?” Expectant eyes look up at him and unsure ones look down at me. “You.” He takes the easy answer.

I move from between his legs, pressing the entire length of my body against his. His fingers fumble at the snap on my jeans and I steady his uneasy hand. “I figured as much,” I snicker, playfully. He pulls a rueful face at me, taking a deep breath. “I think I teased you enough. So,” I hold his sexy stare. “Tell me
how
you want me and that’s exactly what you’ll get.”

His hand snakes up around my neck, pulling me in for a wildly passionate kiss. I’m no mind reader, but this kiss tells me everything I need to know. He wants to get lost, to feel something, and he wants me to be the one to give it to him. Blindly, he reaches over to the nightstand, and pulls out a bottle of lube and a condom. His lips fall away from mine, but he holds my face in his hands, making sure I don’t look away as he speaks. “I want you to make walking impossible tomorrow.”

I try to stop it, but even in my current state of crazy, lusty need, the bubble of laughter that fills my chest escapes past my lips. “What’s the matter? Don’t think you can do that?” he prods, egging me on and silencing my laughter.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk for a week.” My response silences him. I release his wrist, and, with more deftness than he had before, he unclasps my jeans and begins to shove them down my hips.

To make things easier – and in turn, to get inside of him more quickly – I stand from the bed and lose the pants. Dylan’s mouth wraps around my cock before I can even reach for the condom and lube. The sight of him propped up on one elbow, with the other hand wrapped around the base of my dick as he nearly swallows me whole is almost more than I can take. The wet heat of his mouth, the searing fire in his eyes, the branding roughness of his touch almost makes me melt into the floor. His too-long hair begs to be tugged, pulled at its ends. “So good…so fucking good.” The beat of my words matches the pace of his tongue swirling up and down every inch I have to offer him.

When I’m seconds away from coming down his throat, I pull away, pushing him down onto the mattress. As I roll the condom on and lube up, Dylan situates himself on his hands and knees. I trace my fingertip down his spine, over his crack, probing ever so softly at his ass. His eyes roll back as he looks at me over his shoulder.

“From the minute I first saw you, I wanted you,” I moan against his skin. I plant a trail of kisses along the path my finger just traveled, dripping some lube on my finger. “Lean forward.” My command is obeyed instantly.

With his head buried against the pillows and his arms slack at his sides, he looks like an offering from the Gods. His moans are nothing more than muffled noises as I spread him wide. “Don’t make me beg, Con.” He twists his head to the side, making sure his words aren’t misheard.

With my fingertip poised against the tight ring of muscle of his ass, I press forward, the motion barely perceptible. “What if I want you to beg?” I push forward the tiniest bit. “What if I want you to writhe and squirm, screaming my name for more?” He pushes back against my finger, but I retreat, wanting control over what I know he’s feeling.

We play cat and mouse for what feels like an eternity. He pushes back; I pull away. I give him a centimeter; he wants an inch. Just like I’d planned, he gives way first. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just …God… please touch me, fuck me, do anything to me, make me feel something.” The last plea trembles and shakes as it falls from his mouth – the honest desire in those words makes me relent.

Instinctually, he pushes down onto my fingers as I press them forward, nearly sitting on them as I scissor them opened and closed. “Ahhhh…” Dylan’s voice reverberates off the walls, bouncing around us like a symphony of pleasure.

Over the latex surface, I stroke myself once more, needing more than just the feel of my own hand. The crown of my cock rests in his stretched opening, teasing, tempting. This time, when he leans back onto me, I don’t stop him. “Take it, Dylan.” I hook my arm around his hips and drag him onto me, pushing forward, fucking him hard at the same time.

“Oh, fuck,” I groan, sliding into and out of his body. I lose myself in the tight heat of his body. Unrelenting, with no end in sight, I drive into him over and over, my name falling from his lips, and his from mine. He props himself up slightly, giving me the room to reach around and stroke his rock hard dick at the same pace I pound into him.