Release (14 page)

Oh my goodness, the low
lengthy grown from deep in Dane’s throat as my slick and over willing passage
welcomes his impressive girth, coupled with the unbelievable feeling of his
shaft filling me, makes me moan in a way that doesn’t even sound familiar to
me. I embrace him tightly as our bodies align. With a slow raise of only his
hips, he draws back until his dick is barely in contact with me. I get to
experience it all again, the stretching of my entry as he presses into me, as
purposeful and delayed as the first time, my walls enveloping him. He groans
and I moan. I push my head back into the pillow, inhaling. His tongue glides up
the side of my neck and his fingers slip into my hair at the sides, closing
into fists with a tightness that tells me I’m not the only one overcome right
now.

Dane’s thrusts become more
powerful, even with obvious deliberation. I’m far from innocent, I’ve more than
indulged in carnal enjoyment, yet everything feels heightened, like I’m
experiencing sex for the first time. I’d resent feeling so much, feeling so
powerless to him, if it wasn’t so obvious that we’re equally caught in a
tightly spun web of intense satisfaction and desperate desire.   

With absolute ease, as
though I’m weightless, Dane shifts me over on to all fours. His hands to my
hips, demanding and dominant, he drives into me at the same time he pulls me
back to meet him. The sensation is shocking and overwhelming, leaving me
stunned and gasping. His onslaught from behind is merciless, the pleasure
spreading beyond that one point of contact; sharp, tiny currents along my arms
to my fingers and down my legs to my toes.

I am consumed, absorbed,
taken over – everything that makes me physically
his
right now.

“You’re fucking beautiful,”
he tells me, his coarse voice absolute. “I don’t know whether to eat you again
or stay buried in you. If I could, I’d do both at the same time.”

If I could speak, I’d
respond.

Altering his position behind
me, he brings me upright as he sits back on his heels. I’m now seated on his
lap, my back to his front, my thighs split wide. He grinds upwards. I rock my
hips grinding down on him. Taking my left hand in his, Dane links our fingers
and moves our hands between my legs. Together we caress my clit, strokes
perfectly matched with his thrusts. “Have you made yourself come thinking about
me, Brooklyn?”

The aroused whisper in my
ear makes me giggle, even with the building pressure in my pussy. I’m not
embarrassed, the question was just unexpected. “My sexy secrets stay my sexy
secrets,” I say, trying for control of my voice, though I fail as a whimper
slips out at the end.

It’s crazy that his hushed,
“Okay,” adds further stimulation. Dane’s other arm tightens around my waist,
restricting my movement, and somehow he makes me feel him more. “I’ve made
myself come thinking about you,” he rasps, “right after I text you this morning.”

No giggle this time, I can
only moan in response to the combination of that voice, those words, the cock
deep inside me, and our fingers stroking me. I go over in a rush of peaking
sensations.

“I still wanna know,” he
whispers, before shifting me forward, on to all fours again.

With my forehead pressed to
the mattress, one hand buried in my hair and the other at my hip, I’m held in
place. He takes me hard and fast. Shock goes into battle with pleasure, as I
realize I’m about to come again. Right now. My mind is telling me it’s too
soon. My body is telling me go forth. Fuck, I have no choice. I explode around
him, from inside out, burying my face in the cover to silence my scream, whilst
clawing the luxurious cotton bedding.

Dane becomes still, but I
can just pick up the fading spasms in his shaft. Breathing heavy, hot and
sticky, neither of us move. I don’t think I can. I feel like I’ve had the life
fucked out of me. I don’t even want to speak.

Slowly, Dane withdraws. The
loss is instant, and if I had the strength I’d protest his departure. His hips
press against my backside and he remains there. I find the energy to smile,
happy with the physical re-connection.

“Yes or no, Brooklyn?” How
did I know he’d ask that eventually?

I turn my head to the side
where I can breathe better. “Yes.” 

“When?” The intrigue in his
voice tells me he wasn’t expecting that answer.

“After our first phone
conversation.”

He laughs silently as he
moves from behind me, and goes into the adjoining bathroom. I scoot up to the
top of the bed and lay on my side. Yawning, silent and beyond content, I relax
my limbs and close my eyes.

Dane returns and frames my
body with his, spooning with me. As we mingle with the night, the seconds, the
minutes, the hours passing by, we talk, we stroke, we tease, we play, and we
fuck. He makes me come again and again and ... Wow!

When I arrive at my apartment, and walk through the
front door, Kayla’s coming out of the bathroom. “Walk of shame!” she shouts,
pointing at me. I look down at my clothes and then back at her, grinning. “She
banged Dane,” Kayla says, giggling.

“Tell the neighbors, why
don’t you?” I joke.

Leona walks out of the
living room and stands leaning against the doorjamb, her arms folded across her
tummy. “I can smell the sex all over you,” she says, her gaze slowly inspecting
me.

I know she can’t, not from
there. “Funny. Very funny,” I reply before switching to Kayla. “Are you done in
there?”

“Hmm, so you want to rid
yourself of the evidence do you, missy?”

“Not really, I’d gladly stay
smelling like this all day,” I tell her as I slip into the bathroom.

Just as I start to close the door, Kayla blocks it
with her foot.

“Details over breakfast.
We’re going to Mary’s, so you’ve got twenty minutes.”

By the time I shower and throw on some fitness shorts
and a T-shirt, Kayla and Leona are back. I walk into the kitchen in the middle
of a Kayla-Leona nationality switch.

“That bloke is such a knob,”
Kayla says, her British accent perfect, but too posh for a line like that.

“I know, right? Freaking
ass-hat,” Leona says, and I can’t fault her. We didn’t even know a term like
“ass-hat” existed until a member of our dance family said it.

I chuckle at them as I sit
down. “You two are silly arses. I love you both.” I reach for my mushroom
omelet and toast.

“Fuck that shit,” Leona
says, in her own accent. “Details, hoe!”

We eat and I tell them
everything. Absolutely everything. It’s what Leona did, and it’s what Kayla
will be doing because she had plans last night. I know that hoe! has been up to
no good.

“Whisky, Tango, Foxtrot,”
Leona says.

“What the fuck, indeed,” I
respond. “I have no idea where any of this is going. I have no expectations;
I’m taking it one day at a time.”

“As long as you’re happy,
babe, that’s all that matters,” Leona says.

Kayla snickers. “It’s
obviously done you the world of good. You’ve barely slept, and you sure don’t
look like shit.”

I sip my coffee. “I’m sore,
though. Good thing we don’t have a show tonight. Is there such a thing as a
hangover from sex? I’m proper hanging, if that’s the case.”

Kayla starts singing
Love
Hangover
beautifully to herself. Leona joins in, and so do I.

We finish our sing-song.
Leona and I stare at Kayla. “And now for the Chase Dean goss,” I demand.

“That geeza is officially
all mine,” she says, sounding like someone out of a Guy Ritchie movie.

“Flipping heck! Are
relationships catching in the Macintosh-Dixon-Scott household?” I say, grinning
and beyond happy.

After a day inclusive of class, a client, a massage to
loosen out some nasty knots in my back, and a nap to revitalize, I call my mum.
Following a good chat and an update, not the detailed version I gave Leona and
Kayla, I shower and put on some white skinny jeans and a blush satin camisole
with lace trim across the bust line. With my hair down, a little eyeliner,
mascara, and some lip gloss to finish I’m ready to go.

When I step out of the lift,
Dane is standing at his open door, beyond sexy in a dark green T-shirt embossed
with a Japanese design and dark jeans. He hugs me and squeezes me nicely just
before letting go. That’s followed up with a kiss on the lips. I really like
this boyfriend-girlfriend thing we’ve got going on.

After I take off my boots
and socks, Dane watches as I appreciate the feel of his luscious, thick carpet
under my bare soles. He smiles, amused. I can smell caramelized onion, tomato
and spices and that excites my taste buds. There’s another
bud
Dane’s
already exciting as well, he’s too yummy. To hell with feeling sore, who cares?

In the kitchen, I’m sitting
at the breakfast bar with a glass of red wine beside me. My offer to help with
the food was declined, which means I get to watch Dane do his thing. I adore
him in motion. 

He walks over to me with a
plate of pineapple chunks, their freshness evident by the tempting, sweet
smell. The plate set next to my glass, Dane stands in front of me, grips my
thighs just above my knees, opens my legs, and steps in between them. He’s nice
and close, and the last thing I want right now is food. I’d gladly eat all this
other stuff after I eat him, though.

I hook my thumbs into the
loops on the waistband of his jeans as he picks up a juicy piece of the fruit.
Slowly, he puts it in my mouth, at the same time he watches my acceptance. He’s
leisurely stroking my thigh with his other hand. “It’s gorgeous,” I say at the
sudden tangy burst of flavor.

His gaze travels down to my
crotch, a smirk making an appearance. “I can think of something else that
tastes better.” He bites a piece of pineapple and brings his attention back to
my mouth as he feeds me the rest. Again, he takes a bite from another and
offers me the remainder under his watching eyes.

When he places the tip of
his thumb between my lips, I suck the juice from it. Switching to his
forefinger, I suck again. Middle finger. We linger. So, so slowly, he pulls
out. He moves closer, this time I receive his tangy-flavored tongue, swirling
strokes of sweetness. The depth of our kiss, the blatant desire, suggests our
hunger at the moment bares no association with food. But, still, he breaks the
connection, both of us breathless, and turns away. No man should be this
arousing.

We sit at the dining table,
positioned at the back of the living room. Low music plays in the background.
Dane’s seated me at the head of the table and he’s on the next chair along from
me. The food is to die for, the company even better.

After our meal, Dane feeds
me more pineapple. I’m sure it tastes better from his fingers. I feed him as
well. He’s making me feel like his queen, I’ll gladly treat him like my king in
return. 

“Out of curiosity,” I say
lightly, so he won’t think I’m being cheeky or over intrusive, “why would a man
who usually likes to be single have such a fabulous dining table that seats
six?”  

He’s so chilled with a lazy
smile, but his posture remains perfect even though his arms are folded atop the
table. “This is what happens when your sister has keys to your place. Saff
seemed to think I needed one. I didn’t agree – a coffee table and a breakfast
bar were more than enough for me – but that didn’t matter, I still came home
one day to find it here. This is the first time I’ve used it in the four years
I’ve had it.”

“Is that how long you’ve
lived here?”

“It is. Before that, Gerard
and I were crazy enough to share an apartment.”

I chuckle, but I’m not
saying anything to that. God only knows what they got up to. I stop myself from
beaming as it suddenly occurs to me that I’m the first woman to eat at this table
with him.

Soon after, I sit on the
sofa. It’s dark outside, the blinds are closed and the one lamp in the corner
bathes the room in a low, orange glow.

Dane comes in from the
kitchen and pushes the coffee table back slightly. Facing me, he kneels down on
the floor and removes his T-shirt, revealing that fabulous, muscular, tattooed
torso. Our mutual focus on his hand, he reaches for the button of my jeans and
opens it. My white lace underwear peeps through with the lowering of my zip.
Hooking his fingers into the waistband, he pulls my jeans down past my backside
and I lift my hips to assist. They slide farther down, over my thighs, my
knees, to my ankles, and off. He lays them to one side. Next he peels down my
knickers and takes them off.

With his hands to my back,
he brings me forward until I’m seated at the edge of the sofa. Remaining on his
knees, between my thighs, he takes off my camisole and bra. He lightly brushes
my left nipple with the back of his fingers, it starts to tighten. “I’ve been thinking
about having your pussy tight around me all day,” he says, softly, eyes focused
on his slowly caressing fingers.

Leaning forward, I press my
lips to his. As he accepts the twirls of my tongue and responds with strokes of
his own, I pick up a tearing sound and the movement of his hands between us as
he puts a condom on.

His jeans and underwear stay
on, but impede in no way. I curl my arms around his shoulders and enjoy the
feel of his entry, even with the bite that comes with my sore state. I moan into
his mouth. He falls into rhythmic thrusts, neither fast nor slow. My hold on
him tightens in response to the amazing sensations and the sudden, desperate
need to have him closer. Dane’s embrace matches mine, the arms encircling my
waist pulling firmer.

“Why does being with you
feel so good?” I whisper against his lips. I’m not only referring to sex.

“Because it’s where you
should be. With me.” He sounds so sincere.

We don’t resume our kiss,
but our lips remain in contact. Lifting the heels of my feet, I widen my thighs
a little more and it feels deeper. Better.

“Good girl,” he says,
appreciating my slight alteration.

Again, in unison, our holds
tighten. I move my cheek to rest it against his. The music has stopped. It’s
just the two of us now. I really like it. I feel unbelievably connected with
this man and his possession of my body is heightening my emotions. I’m
overwhelmed.

“Why does it feel like I’m
falling in love with you?”

Oh. My. God. I did not just
say that.

Shit.
Fuck no. I
didn’t, I didn’t, I didn’t. Please, no.

Incapable of anything else,
I lower my forehead to his shoulder. Fuck.

Dane’s now motionless. And
silent.

Seconds.

Minutes.

A flipping eternity.

They all pass by.

And I can’t move for the
pure, painful embarrassment I feel. To make things worse, I sounded so fucking
helpless when I said it. I want to disappear. Please.

“Hey,” he says, reaching
back to loosen my arms from around him. I resist. He pulls harder against my
vice-like grip. “Don’t hide from me,” he says, tone soft. I don’t want him to
see my face. Dane tugs again, I let go, and he leans back a little.

I look up, but avoid his
eyes. Nice collarbones.

“Stop hiding from me,” he
says, again.

I had no problem with the
fact that I was fully bare, and he was only partially, but I now feel more
exposed than ever before in my life. I resent that he isn’t naked, physically
or emotionally. And I am.

We’re not equal, and I hate
myself for creating the imbalance.

Reluctantly and not without
profound effort – I feel so sick – I raise my gaze to meet his.

He kisses me once on the
lips.

Silence again, for another
eternity.

His mouth still against
mine, he says, “Why does it feel like I’m falling in love with you?”

My brows pull tight in utter
confusion.

This is crazy. Sex is
absolutely not the time for this type of conversation, not with someone like
Dane. I’m sitting at the edge of the sofa, legs spread wide, and Dane’s now
deflating – no, make that flaccid, cock is inside me. My timing couldn’t have
been worse. Where the fuck did my brain go?

I don’t even understand my
feelings for him. One thing’s for sure, I can’t possibly be falling for a man
who doesn’t usually do relationships, never mind love.

Looking down between us, I’m
slightly paranoid that the condom will come off inside me when he pulls out.
Dane must read my mind because he quickly withdraws and slips off the condom. I
actually made him lose his erection. I didn’t think I could feel any worse than
I already did. Wrong.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to
say that.” I held eye contact easily on those words, because they’re true.
 

Dane’s brow furrows. “Didn’t
mean it? Or didn’t mean to say it?”

“I don’t want to mean it.”
The truth again.

“But you do?”

Why isn’t he running for the
fucking hills? Or kicking me out of his bloody apartment?

“I shouldn’t have said it.”
I try to close my legs, but it’s impossible because he’s still between them.

He rubs my thighs slowly. “I
feel the same thing,” he says with an expression so earnest.

“That’s not what you do and
you don’t need to say it just because I have.”

“I probably wouldn’t be
saying it if you didn’t, but I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” It looks
like he means it.

Not possible.

I pause, thinking. I blink a
few times. It’s sweet of him to try and spare me this hideous embarrassment. It
helps a bit.

“Okay, this is all quite
strange, and really, really awkward timing,” I say.

“Well, that’s true, but it’s
too late to take it back now.”