Before she could reply, he placed one knee on the end of the bed, followed by the other, and then extended his hand toward her.
Monet’s sex constricted. She didn’t think it was possible. Not after the orgasm he’d just given her, but it did. It constricted and throbbed and squeezed a cock not there. A cock currently pointing straight up, its hard length thick and demanding her attention. Waiting for her to sheathe it in the condom Dylan offered.
Condom.
Monet’s gaze slid to the small square of black foil, making out the word “Studded” in gold script. Her pulse quickened, her breath catching in her throat.
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Studded?”
He nodded with a grin. “For your pleasure.”
Monet’s gaze dropped back to the condom packet. She plucked it from his fingers, raised it to her lips and tore it open with her teeth.
Dylan let out a long breath. His cock, already leaking beads of liquid need from its tip, twitched.
Withdrawing the slick circle of latex from the foil packet, Monet shifted on the bed, repositioning herself until her knees were almost touching his. She reached for his erection, watching the way his balls rose as her fingers brushed his flesh.
Dylan hissed in a breath. His stomach hitched, his abs coiling with the raw reaction to her touch. “Bloody hell, Monnie, if you don’t get that on soon I’m think I’m gonna?—”
She covered the head of his cock with the condom and rolled the latex sheath down his length.
Dylan’s groan was low. Ragged. His cock throbbed in her hand, the tiny raised studs of the condom’s surface grazing her palm. Her pussy contracted, her mind telling her exactly how good they would feel sliding inside her pussy as Dylan pumped into her over and over and over again.
When he thrust into her. Filled her.
Fucked her.
Made love to her.
Monet’s head swam.Make love to me…
She lifted her gaze to Dylan’s face, her pulse leaping fast in her neck at the smoldering desire burning in his eyes. “I want this to last forever, Monet,” he murmured. “I’ll do my best. But I want you so fucking much I think I may embarrass myself.”
His confession made her pussy flood with heat. She cupped his balls in her palm and gave them a little squeeze. “How many condoms did you pack?”
”A few.”
She smiled, tugging on his heavy scrotum again. “Then who the fuck cares about the first one?”
He laughed, the sound wonderful and real and so totally Dylan. “Bloody hell, love, you know how to make a bloke feel?—”
He didn’t finish. Probably because Monet was pulling him down on top of her, nails digging into his bare butt cheeks, legs spreading beneath his weight.
They hit the bed together, Dylan’s cock nudging at Monet’s folds, her clit, his mouth capturing her lips. He kissed her, his tongue swiping into her mouth. A distant part of Monet’s mind noticed he tasted of mint, as though he’d freshly rinsed with mouthwash. A warm wave of joy rolled through her, the knowledge he’d thought of that small detail before coming back making her love him even more.
Love him.
Not just desire him. Not just aroused by him, wanting him. But in love him.
She loved him and now she was finally going tomake loveto him.
Raking her nails up his back, she thrust her hips, hooking one leg around the back of his thigh. The move spread her folds a little and his cock dipped into her heat before nudging her clit again.
She arched her back, driving her heel against his butt. Wanting him inside her.
Wanting…
Dylan tore his lips from her, running a hand down her side, along the length of the leg hugging his hip as he raised his head and gazed down into her face. His dimple creased his cheek. “Want me to take my hat off?”