Silence stretches between us, and the longer I take to answer the question, the harder it gets. I don’t know why I’m hesitant. Maybe because I feel like my answer will seem like a red flag to him or something. But then again, what do I expect from him? It’s not like he’s going to ask me to be his girlfriend—the thought is almost laughable—so what does it matter?
“Come on, Monster. Tell me.”
My sigh is playfully aggravated. “None.”
His eyebrows rise. “None? Really?”
I nod, and his smile just gets bigger. Back when I was with College Boyfriend, I didn’t really cook. That’s something I picked up after I moved to LA, when the city was so loud and overwhelming that I needed a hobby I could do by myself, tucked safely away inside my house.
“I’m your first, huh?” he asks, arching a brow. His voice is lower now, and it flips a switch in me. Like striking a match, my want for him flares to life.
Turning on the stool, I narrow my eyes, take in the set of his jaw and the sandy stubble shadowing his chin. “Do you like that?” My tone matches his—low, hungry. “Do you like being my first?”
In the blink of an eye, his hands are around my waist, lifting me off my stool and onto the marble countertop. It’s cold against my bare legs, and the sensation makes me gasp.
“I wanna be your first everything.” His words come out in a harsh whisper, and then his mouth is on my neck, his lip ring pressing against my skin.
I tip my head back, lose myself in the feeling of his tongue gliding across my skin.
“You’re the first man who ever tasted me,” I say between heavy breaths. The memory of his mouth between my legs blossoms to life in my mind. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it—about you.”
Dex groans against my neck. “My dick is so hard for you, Monster.” He grabs my hand and moves it to the bulge straining against his jeans.
Heat pools between my legs.
I scoot myself to the edge of the counter so I can wrap my thighs around him. Tightening my hold, I tug him closer, wanting to feel his arousal between my legs.
One hand slipping around the back of my head, Dex pulls me in. His lips find mine, and I let his tongue into my mouth. He tastes sweet, like chocolate and maple syrup. The plates sit behind me on the countertop, abandoned, discarded in the face of true hunger.
Releasing my head, Dex reaches down with both hands, pulls the button of my shorts free on the first try, and yanks the fabric off, leaving me in a thong on his marble countertop. I grab the bottom of his T-shirt, and he lifts his arms so I can pull it over his head.
Unlike our first time together, when everything was slow, now our movements are hurried, as if we’ll both die of thirst if we don’t soon drown in each other.
His inked skin draws me in, makes me brush my fingertips across his chest. I trace my fingers over the sword, run them down the length of his sternum. When I get to his abdomen, his muscles tighten, and goose bumps pebble across his skin.
With a grunt, he grabs my ass and lifts me off the counter. I wrap my legs around him again, my arms encircling his neck. Our kiss deepens, and Dex lets out a low growl when I pull away just enough to drag my tongue across his lips, tasting the metal he wears.
He carries me into the living room and sets me on the back of the couch. When I look down, I see how tight his jeans have become, feel my body heat up at his eagerness to be free.
At his eagerness to have me.
I grab the button on his jeans with trembling fingers, and he moans when I pry it loose. Then I’m shimmying his pants down over his hips, and my tongue wets my lips when he springs free.
Fuck, he looks good.
Dex steps out of his jeans and kicks them aside. I grab the hem of my T-shirt, needing to get this clothing off, and pull it over my head, along with the bralette I’m wearing. Dex watches me drop the fabric to the floor, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. My nipples harden beneath his gaze.
“Kiss me,” I say.
So he does.
His mouth crashes into mine again, and I drag my hands through his hair. Dex reaches for my hips, for the last piece of thin fabric still separating us. He grabs my thong, yanks it over my legs, and flings it across the kitchen.
As his gaze shifts down, I open my legs for him, let him see how wet I am. And in response, his length throbs.
He sweeps me up, and now I’m in his arms again, naked against his body, legs around him. He carries me across the living room, pausing only to hit a switch on the wall, casting us into darkness. The firelight flickers in the living room, and the city lights send dim colors sparkling across the walls.
Cold glass presses into my back, makes me gasp against Dex’s mouth. Every sensation is heightened; it feels like my nerve endings are on fire.
Dex pushes me firmly against the sliding glass door, braces my body against it. I think briefly of the neighbors, wonder if anyone can see us. The thought makes me even more wet.
Let them see.
Hands gripping my ass cheeks, Dex slides me slowly down his firm body. The head of his dick touches my entrance, teases me. He holds me there until I finally whimper my protests.
“Look at me.” Dex breaks our kiss, pulling back so he can see my face.
Breathless, I settle my head back against the glass. His lips are slightly swollen, cheeks flushed, and the muscles in his jaw are taut. I can see how he clenches his teeth; it makes me want to drag my tongue along his neck.
Like me, he’s completely naked, save for the heavy chain hanging around his neck. I see flashes of that chain in my dreams, have fantasized about him using it to shackle my hands above my head.
The next thing I know, the chain is in my grasp, warm from where it sits against Dex’s skin, and I twist it in my hand, relishing the pinch of his skin as it tightens around his neck. Then I’m dragging my tongue along the links, tasting the mix of metal and salt.
And this time when Dex growls into my ear, it’s feral.
He slams me up against the glass, forcing a gasp from my lungs.
“Tighter,” he whispers into my ear.
