Page 51 of Dash

“You keep expecting me to run, Dayna. But if I wanted to go, I’d already be gone.”

My mouth dries. I swallow the fry quickly before it sticks to the back of my throat. “I expect it because that’s what usually happens.”

“Yeah, well, not this time.”

I truly believe he means it, but there’s a part of me that just can’t trust it. Not yet. Because at some point, he’s going to see the truth, see how much of a fuck-up I am, and he’ll run.

And I don’t think I’ll survive if he does.

THIRTEEN

DASH

She’s sucking my cock.

My body knows before I even open my eyes that her mouth is around my shaft, wet and warm.

Fuck.

When I open my eyes, she’s draped over me, her hands on my hips, hair pulled into a messy knot so I can see the way her cheeks hollow with each bob of her head.

The light flick of her tongue over the head of my cock sends electric jolts along every nerve ending in my body.

She lifts her lashes, uncertainty there for a second before she smiles around my length. She’s never looked more fucking beautiful than she does right now.

This isn’t obligation.

It’s not submission.

She’s claiming me, like I’m hers.

My breath hitches as she swipes over tip and my vision blurs for a beat.

“Fuck.” I spit the word through gritted teeth as my mind empties of every thought but her hot mouth on me.

She gives me a wicked grin, one that hits me in the chest hard. There’s trust there, the beginning of belief that I’m in this with her.

She gently squeezes my balls, and I lose all thought. I focus on trying to breathe instead, trying to loosen the tight muscles in my throat. Her tongue moves between soft and teasing, while her touch is firm and heavy.

I’m no longer in my body. I’m floating, useless, held only together by her mouth on me.

I never knew that devotion could look like this.

“I’m gonna… come.” The words are rasped, and I expect her to pull off me, but she doesn’t.

I spill into her mouth, my gut tight, my muscles locked. She swallows me down, and I swear I’ve never felt more fucking owned in my life. This wasn’t just a blow job. It was a statement. She’s mine, but I’m hers too.

My chest heaves, my lungs burning as I gulp air like I’m starving.

“Good morning,” she says, moving up the bed to lie next to me.

I want to worship her, to kiss lips still glistening with my cum, but I can’t move. I can’t do anything but exist.

“You okay?” she asks when I don’t speak.

I drape my arm over my eyes, trying to ground myself.

“Give me a second.”

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