Page 26 of Heartwood and Hardware
We undress each other slowly, each new revelation of skin met with appreciative touches and kisses. Dean's body is exactly as I imagined—strong, solid, bearing the marks of his craft in calluses and the occasional small scar. When my dress falls away, his eyes darken with desire.
"You're beautiful," he breathes, hands spanning my waist. "So beautiful."
No one has ever looked at me the way Dean does now—like I'm a masterpiece, like every curve and line of my body is exactly as it should be. There's no self-consciousness as I stand before him in just my underwear, only a thrilling awareness of his appreciation.
"So are you," I tell him, running my hands over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm.
We move to the bed, Dean laying me down with gentle care before stretching out beside me.
"Is this okay?" he asks, fingers playing with the edge of my bra.
"More than okay." I arch into his touch. "Please, Dean."
He unclasps my bra with surprising dexterity, drawing it away to reveal my breasts. The hunger in his eyes as he looks at me sends heat pooling between my legs.
"Perfect," he murmurs, bending to take one nipple into his mouth.
I gasp at the sensation, my back arching off the bed. Dean's tongue circles the sensitive peak, his hand coming up to caress my other breast. The dual stimulation sends sparks of pleasure through me, each lick and gentle squeeze building the tension coiling inside me.
"Dean," I breathe, my hands threading through his hair to hold him closer.
He shifts his attention to my other breast, his hand sliding down my stomach to the edge of my panties. "May I?" he asks, fingers playing with the elastic.
"Yes," I manage, lifting my hips in invitation. "Please touch me."
Dean slides my panties down my legs, his eyes drinking in every inch of newly revealed skin. When his hand returns to the apex of my thighs, I spread my legs wider, welcoming his touch.
His fingers find me already wet, slipping easily through my folds. "So responsive," he murmurs appreciatively. "So perfect."
I moan as he circles my clit with gentle pressure, my hips rising to meet his touch. "More," I plead. "I need more."
Dean obliges, sliding one finger inside me while his thumb continues its circular motion. The feeling is exquisite, making me gasp his name. When he adds a second finger, curling them to hit a spot that makes me see stars, I clutch at his shoulders.
"Right there," I pant. "Don't stop."
"Never," he promises, his rhythm steady and sure. "I want to watch you come apart. Want to feel you come on my fingers."
His words, combined with the skilled movement of his hand, push me closer to the edge. I'm not usually vocal during sex, but with Dean, sounds escape me unbidden—moans, gasps, his name like a prayer on my lips.
"That's it," he encourages, pressing deeper. "Let go for me, Riley."
The tension builds to an unbearable peak, then breaks in a rush of pleasure that pulses through my entire body. I cry out, back arching, hands gripping Dean's arms as wave after wave washes over me. He works me through it gently, easing the pressure as the aftershocks subside.
When I open my eyes, Dean is watching me with an expression of wonder and desire. "You're incredible," he says softly. "The way you respond, the sounds you make... beautiful."
I reach for him, pulling him down for a deep kiss. "I want to feel you," I whisper against his lips. "All of you."
Dean sheds his boxers, revealing his erection—thick and hard against his stomach. I wrap my hand around him, feeling the velvet-soft skin over steel hardness, the way he pulses in my grip.
"How do you want me?" I ask, settling back against the pillows.
"Just like this." He moves between my legs. "I want to see your face."
The position feels intimate, vulnerable in the best way. Dean braces himself above me, one hand guiding himself to my entrance. He pauses there, the tip of his cock just barely pressing against me.
"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.
In answer, I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him closer. "I've never been more sure of anything."
