Page 95 of No Place Like You

He works to turn me toward the desk, leaning my butt at the ledge, and steps into the space between my legs. He trails kisses on my shoulder, up my neck, and behind my ear. And I tilt my head to the side, letting him. I respond by nibbling on his earlobe, pulling the sensitive skin between my teeth, and he sighs against me.

“God, I just want to fuck the shit out of you.” His words, all breathy and hot, travel down low. To the arch of my feet, making my toes curl and my back bend. I feel his touch travel up my thigh and stop when his fingers curl around my hip, firmly and possessively. He reaches behind me, pushing me closer to him as he presses his groin into me, and I feel how badly he wants me. He buries his nose into my skin, and I feel him take in a sharp intake of breath.

“Can I?”

“Can you what?” I ask, so fucking breathless.

“Can I fuck the shit out of you?”

“Yes,” I whimper desperately.

A deep, guttural growl rumbles low in his chest, and he lifts me, wrapping my legs around his waist, and I feel dizzy when he swings me around.

We’re a flurry of clothes warped around us in heaps. Everything lands on the floor in a mess, leaving us in our underwear. I fall back on the bed, and he crowds over me, his hands braced on the bed at my sides. His eyes linger on my body, over the intimate parts of me barely covered with my matching bra and underwear set, and he lets out a close-mouthed sigh.

“The things I’ve wanted to do to you…” His eyes follow the path of his fingers, starting from my knees, up higher and higher, his thumb pressing against my skin as he gives me a soft, seductive squeeze at my waist.

He sinks into me, and for a second, he just clutches me against him. His hand fists into the base of my hair, tugging at it, holding on to me like Imight disappear. Like if he doesn’t grapple at what he can, this will all just be a figment of his imagination.

“I’m here,” I whisper into his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I’m yours tonight.”

He nods, the ends of his hair brushing against my cheek. “We have tonight, and if that’s all we have, then I’ll take it. I’ll take whatever I can.”

It’s another reminder this is exactly what it’s always been. Temporary. But he’s right. Whatever part of ourselves we can give each other, we’ll take it.

He lowers himself down my body, kissing my skin. He starts at my navel, trailing up my stomach to my chest. It’s so sweet and so tender, I want to burst into tears. The silence sits heavy between us, but I feel completely and utterly cherished in the absence of words. He’s moving slowly, taking his time while unraveling bits of me as he goes along. And I let him. I let him take parts of my heart with each stroke, each kiss, because it feels like it belongs to him anyway.

When he meets my lips, his hands move to my back, unhooking my bra and letting it slip off of me. And he just sort of stares at me, at my bare chest scattered with goose bumps all the way down to my lacy underwear covering parts of me that are begging for him to touch.

“To think…” he whispers with his gaze fixed on my body.

“What?” I ask, but it comes out all winded, like a harsh exhale instead of an actual word.

His hand moves to cover my breast, and I feel his fingers graze over my nipple. “That I thought I could’ve gone withoutthis,” he says. “Without seeing you or touching you.” His hand travels down to my thong, and his fingers gingerly trail over the lace.

“Please don’t rip those,” I beg breathlessly. “They were a matching set, and it would be a shame to have them mismatch.”

He laughs into my skin, nuzzling his nose against my neck. “We can’t have that now, can we?”

His hands hook into the strap of my underwear before he tugs it down my thighs. He moves slowly, carefully, following my plea to take care of the fragile material. I do the same to him, pulling at the waistband of his black boxer briefs, letting my hands graze over his bare ass, and he helps me the rest of the way.

He straightens his body, lifting me by my wrists until we’re both on our knees with our arms wrapped around each other. He grips my waist, guiding me toward the head of the bed. Nudging me until my back is at his front, he places my hand on the headboard, clamping my fingers on the cushioned edges.

“Hold on,” he urges. His arm hooks around my waist, and he tugs me closer to him. I feel him, his hardness pressing into my skin, his thighs flush against the back of my own. He continues kissing me gently and slowly. “I like you like this.”

I smirk over my shoulder. “On my knees?”

“At my will.” He glides his hand down my stomach, reaching down until his fingers spread me, and I let out a sharp gasp. My hand covers his, unsure if it’s to guide him or to stop him because the sensation of his touch is too much to bear.

He doesn’t stop though. Instead, he continues, his finger gliding across my clit, making a jolt of electricity shoot right through me. I whimper loudly, turning my face to look at him and reaching over until my hand grips the back of his head. I pull him to me, kissing him and loving the way he follows my lead with desperation on his lips. His other hand reaches to cup my breast, his thumb rolling over my nipple, and it makes my back arch from the sudden sensation.

“Dexter,” I plead. “Please, touch me. I need you to touch me.Please.”

He hooks his finger inside of me, and I sag against him. My head falls back on his shoulder, and I can feel his gaze travel down to where his palm cups me and his fingers move in and out of me. I start to feel a prickling quiver roll around low in my belly, and my breaths come out in short gasps.

“God, I could just watch you come like this.”

I shake my head. “No,” I protest.

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