Make Me Yours: A BWWM Billionaire Love Story (6 page)

She wasn't getting
any kind of chance at recovery either or even getting a word in
edgewise, because Dean's mouth was on her neck, talking wild and
sounding angry, even if that's not what this was. Dean was just
reacting, an over-abundance of adrenaline taking over him, more like.
Jarringly honest and angry-pleased and calling Meaghan all kinds of
things. Meaghan was completely bemused by this side of Dean.
Perfectly capable of hugging the living hell out of her, while still
hurling abuse roundly at her. It was so emotional and needy that it
was kind of freaking her out. Meaghan just held on for a while. When
Dean cursed low against her skin she knew this has gone on for long
enough.

“
Are
we gonna do this in the hallway? Really?” Meaghan asked and
Dean pulled back, smiling mad-glad and keeping one hand fisted in
Meaghan's shirt so he could drag her along, even when Meaghan wasn’t
putting up any kind of fight and sort of laughing if only in shock.

Dean’s
surprisingly tiny apartment was not its usual neat and clean self.
There was a bare brick wall at one end, which contrasted nicely with
the yellow painted wall on the other, interspersed with bookshelves.
The books were haphazardly arranged, almost as if someone had been
riffling through them and not bothered to put them back in order. A
few books were on the floor beneath the shelf as if they’d been
dropped there by someone riffling through the shelves haphazardly
enough to drop some books and not pick them up. Dean dragged her
through the living room without pause, heading to his room. His
usually neatly made bed was stripped, duvet trailing on the floor.
Dark curtains on the windows blocked out the sunlight and the one
small desk was overflowing with bottles of alcohol. A suspicious
looking stain marred the beauty of the white fluffy carpet beneath
the bed.

“
Asshole,”
Dean said and grabbed on to her again and Meaghan was up against the
door of the bedroom, Dean plastered to her front and … whoa,
kissing.

Meaghan
thought about putting the brakes on this, because wait, hold on,
that's not... they needed to
talk…
sort
things out. Well okay she’d expected he’d want to…but
there's too much desperation and Meaghan didn't mean for this to be
like that. Doesn't mean this to be like that. Meaghan got a hand on
Dean’s chest, feeling his heart beat trip hammering in his
chest like he’s ran a marathon or is scared shitless.
Is
he scared shitless right now?
Fuck,
Meaghan felt like she’s in way over her head. She tried to push
him away, to get her mouth free so she could ask but Dean made this
sound, this low warning not-done-yet noise. Meaghan grabbed a handful
of Dean's glossy dark soft hair and kissed him back just enough for
him to lose some of the tension in his muscles and then she pushed
him away none too gently. Dean's green eyes were dark, wild and
half-closed when Meaghan got a peek at them. There was anger there,
and fear; maybe something softer that she couldn’t exactly
name… 
“Why did you shut me out like that?”
Dean asked.
“I didn’t know that I was. My phone died -
know that sounds like a shitty asshole excuse but it also happens to
be true – and I was trying to think, figure this whole thing
out. Trying to understand why you would think that I would cheat on
you.”

Dean blanched. He
really didn't like that, fighting to get back in closer, like that
was going to prove some kind of point for him Meaghan was already
getting an imprint of the door handle she was backed against into her
skin and Dean was plastered to her front, so tight and snug. She was
not all the way sure she wasn't going to have a bruise in the shape
of Dean's belt buckle. Might get his buttons too.

“
Chill
out,” she told Dean even though she
knew
it was a mistake.
“No,” Dean responded, perfectly
reasonable, tone calm and sure, and pushed in closer.

Meaghan tried to
squirm away from the door but Dean’s grip on her was inexorable
and all she managed to do was wedge him more firmly against her. From
the way he gasped at her squirming and the hard length she could feel
through her jeans, she guessed that this situation needed to be
defused forthwith before they could hash things out verbally.

“
You
smell like wine. What have you been doing? Shit, I've missed you,”
Dean mumbled in between kissing licks at Meaghan’s skin and
then there was the rough slide of his hips, one hand coming up to
Meaghan's neck and the other pressing to the ribs on Meaghan's left
side.
“Peel me off the fucking wall and I'll tell you,”
Meaghan tried and Dean just huffed a quiet laugh, warm air skating
Meaghan's mouth and then they're right back to kissing again, only
this time Meaghan's not even trying to pretend to fight it.

She gave every bit
as good as she got and Dean wasn't letting up. Meaghan started to
feel like Dean was not going to be done until he had Meaghan like
this right up against the goddamned door and it wasn't at all the way
she'd seen this going.

“
Okay,
you know what?” Meaghan got out and pushed with her whole body,
forcing Dean to take a step back unless he wanted to lose his
balance.

Dean moved with her,
still holding on to her, all easy compliance and soft stepping.
Meaghan was too confused to even think about that until Dean's tongue
rolled back into her mouth, slow and deep and with so much to it that
she followed Dean without thought; not thinking about it at all,
which was just so stupid, because Dean was so smart. And Dean was
backing up so Meaghan had to step with him, keeping that golden roll
going until they're at the bed and Dean was stripping her out of her
jacket and no, wait, that wasn't the way this was supposed to go.

Because they do
this. They try to sex their problems away and they don’t talk
and so far it's worked because they’ve been keeping things very
much on the surface; trying to keep things easy and fun. And now Dean
wanted things that Meaghan was quite sure weren't going to be
appeased with a quick and dirty fuck, or even a slow burning
meandering fuck. Dean’s hands were all over her, though, so
that when he pulled, she went down, landing half on top of Dean with
her knees and elbows braced for impact.

Meaghan didn't have
a prayer. She was truly, deeply screwed and it only got worse when
Dean’s hands found their way in under her shirt and Meaghan’s
legs spread for him without her conscious volition. They’d
never done it like this before; in the middle of the knock down drag
out they appeared to be having. He pressed his finger into her,
seeking that nub of sensitivity that always turned her to soft
blubbering mush when he rubbed it just right.

Meaghan tried to
pull back, even with everything in her screaming at her to give in to
it instead. Dean's fingers were buried deep within her working her
like a guitar and he was still rolling his hips in that clever way
that doesn't make things any easier. Meaghan didn't come here for
this. Shit, she wasn't sure what the hell she thought she was coming
here for. In hindsight she should have known. Truth be told, though,
some things are what they are, solid and significant and not at all
that easy to get around.

Dean was looking at
her, light shining out of his eyes and a sharp edge to his smile.

“
Are
you going to make me ask? Beg? Really? 'Cause I will, I swear,”
Dean said and Meaghan wanted to jump in right away with reassurances
that she would
never
…the
look in his eyes; did he even know how he was looking at her right
now?

Dean had a wide bed,
suitable for playing any games they might imagine and there was scant
light playing around in the gloom of the darkened room. And Meaghan
was lost. She knew from the moment she left Bain’s house to
come here. She might have told herself that she wasn’t coming
for this but that was not exactly the truth. Whatever craziness might
come between them, they would always have this. Maybe it was because
Dean was her first – and she knew no other. She didn’t
know why, but every time she was in his vicinity, she felt the pull
of this thing between them like sex was a drug and she was an addict.
Meaghan propped herself on one elbow, chest pressed tight against
Dean's, and ran her free hand up Dean's neck, over his jawbone, up
his temple, light careful fingers combing slowly through Dean’s
hair, pushing it out of his face. She took in the flush, the hectic
light in Dean's gaze, the shadows lurking there and the dark smudge
under his eyes. Clearly this thing was taking its toll. Meaghan was
sorry about that. She hadn’t meant for this to happen.

“
I
didn't come here for this,” Meaghan tries to say. “I
wanted to clear things up with you,” she continues but her
voice goes deep and husky when Dean rolls his hips up again, thighs
flexing and relaxing the better to strain against her and his hand so
warm on Meaghan’s back.
“I know,” Dean says
slowly, softly, like a promise. “I thought that was what we
were doing.”

And just like
Meaghan had been thinking that's sort of the problem. There were
things they couldn't sex away. And Meaghan was pretty sure distrust
was one of them. They needed to develop better communication skills,
and the only way she knew how to do that was by actually talking. She
thought that she probably shouldn't be lying on the bed on top of her
boyfriend – was it really boyfriend if no-one is supposed to
know they're together? - thinking about how to make good on the
promises in Dean's eyes, in his voice, made with his hands. Meaghan
had really just come here to make sure that Dean was okay.

“
Dean...”
Meaghan tried again even though her brain felt lobotomized. Dean’s
hands were so far inside her, she was pretty sure he was brushing
against her
womb
.
Why was it not his penis again?
“No. You're here. That's.
It's okay. It's just … you and me.”

Meaghan
wasn't sure that it was okay but she was willing to go along with it
for now. They could always talk after, after all. Except that they
never did. She’s tried before. Dean always cuts her off before
the conversation can really get going with a kiss, or a murmured
‘it’s okay’. And she’s let it go before
because it
was
…okay.
At least she’d thought it was. But then Dean fell apart over
nothing more than coffee with a colleague…clearly everything
isn’t fine. Still, they could postpone talking for another hour
or so right? Dean was so warm under her, so close and so good.

“
Be
here with me, okay?” Dean whispered against her skin.

Meaghan figured this
was what it was and lowered herself enough so that her lips could
touch his; lost in the sweetness, like there was even a choice to
make here. Dean was languid against her just long enough for Meaghan
to get lulled by it and then his hands grasped and held on and he
hooked a leg behind Meaghan's knee, sliding his mouth away to talk,
hot against Meaghan's skin, about exactly what he wanted her to do to
him, and Meaghan knew she was going to, even when she was still
shaking her head.

Dean's words send
heat skating down her spine and she shivered all the way through in a
way that made Dean laugh low and content when he felt it. Dean was
smart enough, always smart enough. He knew what to say and how to say
it. The dirtiest words he could find turned into appeals and Dean was
already moving against her, the deep driven need making that too good
already. Meaghan wanted him so deep inside her that he couldn't find
his way out again. She wanted to tell him but she was still shy. Dean
didn't have any of those restrictions. Dean told her everything he
wanted, every dirty detail, while he worked on Meaghan's clothes and
his own. And no matter how Meaghan tried to tug and pull and shift
them, Dean stayed on his back, keeping Meaghan pressed in close but
nowhere near close enough for her. When Meaghan tried to slide down
his body Dean held her right where she was, long legs and strong
hands and talking, all the while talking like Meaghan was not going
blind from all this already.

“
No,
no, no, not this time. This time you're fucking me, Meaghan. I want;
I want you to fuck me. I’ve been taking the lead long enough,
showing you the ropes. It’s your turn now Megs. Show me a good
time.”

And, Christ, Dean
didn't fight fair. Not that Meaghan exactly expected him to.

The way they were
together on Dean's luxurious bed made the time between now and before
seem inconsequential. It was all haze and dream shift, nothing
noteworthy going on between here and there, despite the
misunderstandings and the insulting texts, the drunkenness and
uncertainty; not to mention the blood and gore and death Meaghan
experienced just yesterday in a way that was too immediate not to
scar her psyche; and she really needed to not be thinking about blood
and gore when she was working her fingers steadily up and down Dean’s
penis while licking at his balls with her tongue and thinking about
maybe putting a finger up his ass to see if that prostate thing was
true.

It all blew straight
out of her mind like so many dried autumn leaves when Dean reached
down and slid his own long slender middle finger into her again
mimicking the rhythm of her hands on him while making the dirtiest
pleased noise Meaghan had ever heard in her life. She cursed at Dean
and Dean groaned a laugh back at her.

“
Taking
too long,” Dean ground out as he intensified his burrowing into
her. There was a bit of pain mixed in with the pleasure at the force
of it.