Page 38 of Dash

“You wanted me here, so I stayed, Dayna.”

She peers up at me and I’m not sure I can read what she’s thinking. “What if I want something else?”

“Anything.”

“What if I want you to kiss me?”

Fuck. My cock feels heavy in my boxers. She’s usually so fucking confident, but the woman lying on me right now is not that Dayna. She’s holding her heart in her hands, waiting for me to take it.

I handle it with care.

“You want to or you think I want you to?”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “I want you too.”

It’s enough. I cup her jaw and brush my lips over hers. Dayna melts into me, her hands on my chest, and when she rocks her hips against mine, that teasing arch of her brow nearly fucking undoes me.

“Shit.” I groan. “Babe, you trying to kill me?”

“There are worse ways to go.”

She directs my hand between her legs, over the soaked cotton against her pussy. “Babe.” Warning cracks through the word, an out, an option to just exist with me without expectation.

“I want this. I want you. I promise this isn’t me thinking this is what you want, though I hope you do.”

I cup her face. “You’re sure?”

She nods. “I want you inside me, Dash.”

Fuck, that might be the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking heard.

I trail my fingers over the damp cotton, through her folds, lazy strokes that has her breath coming a little faster.

My grin sharpens. “You woke up dripping for me, babe?”

She scoffs under her breath before she dips down to press a kiss to the dragon inked on my chest. “I must have been dreaming about another hot biker in my sleep.”

“Brat.”

I nip her bottom lip, punishing, playful, too. She laughs. And fuck, I want to hear that sound on repeat.

She sits up and slips her underwear off, her eyes never leaving mine. I grasp her wrists before she straddles me. “I mean it, Dayna, you don’t owe me anything.”

Her smile is real. “I know.” She glances down at my cock standing to attention between my legs. “Looks like I’m not the only one who’s ready this morning.”

I smirk at her. I’m as hard as steel, ready for her. “I’ll always be ready for you.”

Her smile fades a little, as if my words have torn something open and left her bleeding.

But before I can unpack it, she sits over my hips, her bare pussy pressed against my skin. The heat of her scorches a path that I can’t ignore and my fingers wrap around her hip. I need to touch her, to feel her in my hands.

“You made me feel something,” she says.

“What?”

“Whole.”

She might as well have carved me open.

---