The Sweet Addiction Series Collection: Sweet Addiction, Sweet Possession & Sweet Obsession (13 page)

“Okay, take your time.” I’m completely giddy as he resumes his position, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. I stay perfectly still on top of him, my hands slowly trailing down his neck to his shoulders. Molding my hands against him, I take this opportunity to feel his every muscle. I run my palms down his arms and back up again, softly massaging his biceps and triceps. Skating down his chest, I trace the lines of his abdominals, which are clenched tight and seem to firm up even more from my touch.

“That feels really good,” he says as he lifts his head and watches me.

“What? You in me or my hands on you?” I keep my eyes on him as I rub him, wanting to feel every inch of his skin underneath my hands. It feels amazing, touching him like this, feeling his body react to mine and seeing him relax from my contact.

His hand comes up to my face and he strokes along my jaw. “Both,” he replies, his green eyes burning into mine.

I wink at him as my fingers trail up his sides and back to his chest. “What does it feel like?”

“Being in you like this?” I nod and he continues. “Warm and really soft.” His eyes drop down between us and he stares at me. There. I swallow loudly. “It feels like I fit in you perfectly. Nothing has ever felt like this, for me anyway. Have you ever felt like this before?”

I stare at him, unable to blink as he studies my face.
What did he mean by that? Was he just referring to the sex? Or did he mean just being with me? The two of us together? Shit.
His question is fucking with my head.
I’ve sure as hell never felt anything like this, in both ways. I’m drawn to this man. The undeniable tangible pull between us is electric. But I’m sure it’s one-sided. He’s just referring to the sex.

“Never. Can I move now, please? I’m dying here.” I’ve never been on top during sex and suddenly have a strong overpowering desire to do it and do it well.

“Please,” he answers as he keeps one hand on my hip, digging into my skin.

Gripping onto his shoulders, I rock my hips forward against him, moaning loudly as he slides out of my wetness. I push back and continue riding him, back and forth, up and down, bringing him almost completely out of me before taking him back in.

“Holy shit. Just like that, love.” He clenches his teeth and rocks into me as I drive against him, pushing himself deeper and deeper with each move. One hand teases and massages my breast while the other holds my side. “Jesus, you feel incredible. So fucking good, Dylan.” He keeps his eyes on me as he leans in and pulls my nipple into his mouth. I throw my head back and scream his name as the fever begins to spread throughout my body. He sucks and bites me as I still my movements, arching my back to give him full access to my breasts. I look down and meet his eyes as his mouth stays latched around me, pulling my nipple into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue.

“I love your mouth.”

A small smile pulls at his lips as he moves to the side of my breast and sucks hard, leaving a very prominent red mark on my pale skin. His eyes study mine for approval.

“Do that again.”

He licks over to my other breast that is now being teased with his fingers. Sucking on the skin just above my nipple, he pulls back after a few seconds and admires his work. I’m marked by him, where only his mouth has pleased me and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. He’s claiming my body and I’m willingly letting him have it. His hands move to my ass and he grips me tightly, picking up my pace.

“Yes. Oh, God. Oh, God.” My stomach clenches and twists as my pussy aches. He slides one hand around my waist and down my stomach until his thumb is working my clit. My fingernails dig into the leather as he rubs me in the way that only he knows how. I’m pulsing, shaking against him. My climax is already on the brink before I crash down on top of him. The feel of him inside me with no barrier and now working me the way he’s doing, pushes me quickly over the edge. I throw my head back and give in to the release. “Reese, I’m coming.” His hand grabs my face and tilts it down, forcing me to look at him. His eyes burn into mine, capturing me as he grunts loudly.

“Dylan, oh, FUCK.” I feel his orgasm burst inside me, warm and lingering, and I never want anything more than I want him in this moment. This is amazing. Everything about him is amazing. He pumps once, twice, three times and stills, his eyes staying on mine and giving me the satisfaction of watching him come undone. And then I collapse on top of him, my head hitting his chest as his hand comes up and holds me there. I’ve never felt anything like this. Not even close. He has officially ruined all other men for me and I am perfectly fine with that.

I am wrecked, ruined, and completely okay with it. I stay in Reese’s arms for what seems like hours after we both climax. He holds me, never asking me to move or shift in any way. I can feel him slowly getting hard again inside me, but he doesn’t push for us to do it again. He seems as content as I am, just softly stroking my back as my head nuzzles into his neck. I relish in his scent, the smell of him after sex. He still smells like citrus, but it’s mixed with sweat and I know right then that nothing will ever smell this good. Or feel this good. Which I hate myself for thinking. His air is the only air I want to breathe now, and it does me no good to think like this. But I can’t help it. I’m officially screwed and I know it.

We spend an hour on the couch together, laughing and talking as he holds me against him. I feel terribly embarrassed for not knowing minor details about the man who brought me the most pleasure I’ve ever experienced. Like the fact that he is thirty-one years old. He grew up in South Side and graduated from the University of Chicago when he was twenty-six with a Bachelor of Science Degree in Accounting and a Master’s in Business Administration. He made partner when he was twenty-eight which sounds like a major feat for someone so young. The man is as smart as he is attractive, and I feel completely relaxed listening to him talk about college and his family. He has a younger sister who lives in Detroit who is married with two kids, and his parents are still married after thirty-eight years and live in Maywood. I tell him about my parents and how they encouraged me to open my bakery. Being an only child, they are immensely proud of me and speak of me like I’ve invented a cure for cancer and not a fabulous white chocolate truffle recipe. We talk about how close I am with Juls and Joey, and how Juls and Ian are practically living together now. Inseparable and mad for each other. I tell him about my morning runs and how most days I wish I had an iPod to drown out Joey’s bitchy rants, but other days I enjoy them.

It is an amazing night, and not just because of the sex. I’ve never enjoyed just talking with someone the way I do with Reese. I don’t want to move at all. I could stay in his arms all night, but I know I shouldn’t. No sleepovers. After a few hours, I ask him to drive me home, and the look on his face when we pull up in front of the bakery is priceless. He had no idea I live here.
Of course, he wouldn’t know that; you aren’t dating, Dylan.
I kiss him briefly goodnight, wanting more than anything to invite him inside to see my place, but I don’t. I manage to be strong in this one moment. This is just sex, and if I want to keep doing this with Reese, I need to remember that.

I haven’t seen or talked to him since our amazing fuck fest on Tuesday, which is making things easier and harder at the same time. Easier because I’m realizing he sees this for what it is and it’s making me keep myself in check. And harder because a part of me doesn’t want him to see it this way anymore. I spend all day Wednesday staring at my cell phone, waiting for a text or a call from him, until I stupidly realize he never actually got my number from me. The one time he had called me, he’d called the shop directly.

Thursday, Joey and I are slammed with four consultations, two weddings, an anniversary cake, and a birthday cake request. The wedding consultations both take forever because the brides have decided to include the grooms’ inputs and no one can decide on anything. Luckily for me, Joey is great at getting people to compromise, a trait that I love more and more about him with each passing wedding consultation. After I’ve finished up with my meetings, I spend the rest of the evening in the kitchen throwing together the tarts I’d promised the gentleman on Monday. They’re relatively easy to make after I fuck up the first one royally. I end up using strawberries, kiwi, and mangos, and then top the tarts with an apricot jam. After managing to only eat one of them, I pass out in my bed and dream the same recurring Reese sex dreams, which keep getting better. I’ve stopped fighting it. It is useless really. Besides, the sleep I’m now getting is some of the best I’ve ever gotten. Especially when I wake up from an orgasm.

Standing behind the counter at eleven thirty a.m. on Friday, I let my mind wander to what Reese is doing at this exact moment. I can picture him strikingly sitting behind his desk, working on some audit or whatever and doing it in a way that only he can make sexy. His hair is a right sexy mess, his green eyes are narrowed in on his task, and his massive erection is waiting for me. The shop door opens and I shake my head to clear it.

“Something or someone on your mind, cupcake? I know that look.” Joey strolls in, returning from our favorite little sandwich shop down the street and placing the bag of the best chicken salad sandwiches in Chicago in front of me. My mouth begins to water at the smell and I suddenly realize that all I’ve eaten the past few days has been predominately sugar.
I’m going to develop diabetes if I don’t watch myself.

“No, nothing on my mind except for this sandwich that I’m about to destroy.” The bell on the front door dings and I glance up, my heart thumping hard against my bones at the sight of the delivery man.

Joey hurriedly scurries to my side. “Ooohhh, goody. Today has sucked ass and I need something romantic from my favorite numbers guy.” The delivery man smiles and places a small brown envelope onto the counter, handing me a slip to sign on his clipboard.

“
Your
favorite numbers guy? And what about Billy?” I ask, handing the man back his paperwork and staring at him suspiciously when he doesn’t exit the shop.

“He’s not a numbers guy. He’s a lawyer. A hot ass lawyer who is taking me someplace uber fancy tonight.”

“Awesome. Did you need something else?” I ask the man who stands patiently waiting.

“I’ve been instructed to wait until
after
you’ve read the letter to leave,” he states nonchalantly.

“Oh, okay.” I turn to Joey who looks at me like he has no idea what is going on either as I open the envelope and pull out a small card. My heart begins hammering in my chest and I automatically reach up and place my free hand over it.

Dylan,

It’s come to my attention that the only number I have for you is the bakery number. Now how am I supposed to send you text messages saying I want you to sit on my face? Or I can’t stop thinking about the way it felt to be inside you? OR I want to see you sometime this weekend if you’re free. Please be free.

X Reese

P.S. If you would like these sorts of messages, please give your number to Fred.

Oh, man.
I sigh loudly as Joey snatches the note out of my hand. Finding my notepad under the counter, I bite my cheek to stop from smiling so much as I scribble down my cell number and hand it directly to Fred, the delivery man.

“Thanks, Ms. Dylan. Have a great day,” he says, turning quickly and walking out of the shop.

“He wants you to sit on his face? Well, that’s it, Billy needs to take lessons from Reese on explicit letter writing.” He hands me back the note and I place it back in its small envelope, putting it under the counter where I’m now storing them in a small tin. “You know you’re practically swooning over there, right?” he says to me as I pull my hair up into a high messy bun.