Chapter Twelve
Gillian
Dwayne was a lion being let out of his cage after a decade. Beneath his solid, quiet shell was a beast, more powerful and aggressive than I could’ve possibly imagined. I thought I was in control. I was going to reel him in and make him work for it, but he was one step ahead. He let me think I knew what I was doing, long enough to lure me into his cage. Then he pounced.
He pulled me out of the driver’s seat of my car. “Come here.”
“What are you doing? No, don’t pick me up,” I laughed.
“You’re coming with me.” He pulled me up into his arms and cradled me against his body. His body was like solid fire, pure masculine energy embodied. I couldn’t protest with my head rested against his ridged chest.
He carried me inside, through the hall and slammed me down on the bed. He was on me, his body pressed against mine, his lips, moving over my own while his hand cupped my breast, his thumb circling the nipple. His mouth moved back, behind my ear, and his teeth dug into my skin, sending chills down my body, travelling with him as he moved over my neck — his breath, his lips. My body was sweltering, trapped by his warmth and the sheer bliss of being worshipped.
His hand moved down my side, he bit my neck and my head fell back, my breath fluttering out in a gentle gasp. “You’re so sexy,” he growled. His hand was moving farther down now, over my hips. He thrust it up my dress and clamped down on my clit through my panties.
“Oooh,” a silky sigh flowed out.
“You like that?” He reared up, his fingers moving over my opening.
“Yes.”
A toothy grin, another clamp down on my clit, and my body was reeling, throbbing, pulsing. Something was building between my legs. He was pulling up my dress now, reaching up behind my back to unhook my bra. He threw it on the ground and pulled me up so that he could whip my dress off and throw it on the floor.
The cold air rushed in and goosebumps were sprouting up all over my body. He lowered himself down again, pressed his lips against mine, then left a wet trail down my neck and over my chest, his breath, streaming out over my shoulders. His tongue flew out to circle my areola.
I gasped. “Like that. Yeah, just like that.”
He pinched my nipple and moved on to the next one. His hand was moving down my body, his fingers walking over my stomach, down past my belly button, then onto my labia. He drove his finger through and rose up to take in the look on my face.
I felt the moisture welling up inside me, filling me, wetting his finger. He was moving faster now, rubbing my clit in between his fingers. I could see the bulge in his jeans resting against my leg, and I started to feel the panic, an insatiable need I could never fully satisfy on my own. I needed him inside me, and I needed it now because the electric ball of pressure between my legs was starting to grow past its breaking point.
He saw me looking at his cock, met my eyes, and reached down to stroke it. He moved his thumb over the head, down the shaft, all the while watching my eyes as they grew wider, my mouth salivating. “You want this?” He grabbed it with one hand and used the other to pinch my clit.
I nodded my head.
“Are you going to cum?” He shoved his fingers deep inside me, hitting my g-spot. I gasped, struggling to keep from exploding, but I could only hold it so long. He was driving his finger through me, in and out, smiling as I threw back my head.
“Fuck me,” I said in a soft whisper.
“What’s that?” He cupped his hand over his ear and pinched my clit hard.
I gasped. “Fuck me,” I cried a little louder.
His finger was deep inside me, massaging my g-spot. “Oh, you want me to fuck you.” He reached forward and pinched my nipple. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to do anything you don’t want me to do.”
I was red with anger, pulsing with desire and dying for more. I’d never been so infuriated in my entire life. “Just do it.”
He reared up and threw his shirt on the ground, revealing a map of scars and tattoos, so intricate that I could’ve spent years going over them, asking about their meaning. My eyes moved down his massive shoulders, over his toned arms, his ridged stomach, to the tuft of black hair sticking out of his jeans. His laugh rolled out. “You want to see it?”
“I want it.” I sat up and lunged forward, but he held me back and wagged his finger.
“Uh-uh.” He stood up and walked around me so he could lift my legs and rest them on his shoulders. He thrust his hips forward, letting his bulge move over my leg, closer and closer. Then he leaned forward to kiss me as he pulled his pants down.
As far as I was concerned, the only things that existed at that moment was his cock standing straight up, pointed at me and his lips, like a brush painting new sensations, things I never thought possible. Then, all of a sudden, he slammed his dick deep inside me.
I threw my head back and cried out, riding a wave of motion and force, so captivating that I’d completely lost control. He was too powerful, too big, and he knew how to move and press up into that spot. I was a spectator watching a stream of bliss flow throughout my body as the pressure inside me mounted.
He was relentless. There was nothing gentle about what he was doing. It was pure momentum — raw, animal energy. His teeth bared, he rose up, his body towering over mine, taking control as his hips thrust back and forth in time with his grunting.
Sweat was pouring down his forehead, his breath racing. I could barely keep up, he was moving so fast. One thrust melded into another as the pressure surged through me. Something snapped. A dam broke, and a wave of bliss spread throughout my entire body, sending my head back, my mouth open.
“Awww,” I cried out. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t talk. I was stuck in it. Finally, he collapsed by my side and pulled me closer, resting my head against his chest. I could die there happily, but logic was rushing in.
I started to question myself and what I was doing. Was I living out some childhood fantasy? Was I really ready to rush into this? Once he got control, I wouldn’t have a choice. He had me, and there’d be nothing I could do to stop him. I wasn’t ready for that. I was still trying to build a career for myself. I didn’t need this kind of distraction.
I sat up, feeling like a complete bitch, and looked back. “I’m sorry. I should go. I have to work in the morning.”
“Are you sure?” He wanted me to stay. Most men would’ve kicked me out the door by now.
“Yeah, I’ll call you though.” I grabbed my clothes and started getting dressed. He didn’t say anything. He just watched me, clearly disappointed, as I walked out. I hated myself for doing that to him, but I couldn’t let myself get caught up in anything that might get me hurt.
That’s what it came down to — it wasn’t just about the distraction. I was worried that I’d get in too deep, and that when it didn’t work out, I’d get my heart broken.