More Than Enough
Page 42

Slowly, she walks up the driveway, her gaze everywhere but on us.
“Hey babe,” I say in greeting.
She glances at Heidi quickly before looking back at me. “Hey. I’m sorry. I thought you meant to come over now. I didn’t know you still had company.”
“I asked him if I could meet you,” Heidi cuts in, raising her hand in a wave. “I’m Heidi.”
“I know,” Riley rushes out, then recovers, “I mean, I know you—recognize you—from high school, I mean.” She presses one foot on top of the other—a sign I’ve learned means she’s trying not to run.
“We were in the same class?” Heidi tilts her head as she looks Riley up and down.
“No. You were older,” Riley answers. She’s so nervous.
I speak up. “Riley was a sophomore when I was a senior.” I say I instead of we, because I want Riley to know that when it comes to Heidi and I, there is no we.
“Oh cool,” Heidi responds, smiling at the both of us. I don’t know if it’s fake. I don’t care if it is.
“I was just telling Heidi how you were helping me with the rebuild,” I tell Riley.
She nods. “Just the things his injury prevents him from doing. He’s got the rest under control.”
“So you’re into cars?” Heidi asks her.
“Not before Dylan,” Riley says, her voice louder and more confident. “But it’s his thing and it makes him happy so of course I want to be part of it.” It’s for sure a dig at Heidi, though Heidi wouldn’t have a clue.
Heidi looks between us, before pointing to Riley’s arm. “What’s that?” she asks.
Riley lifts her arm, my messy hand written declaration of my love prominent for all to see.
Seconds of silence pass while I look between the two girls. Heidi—with her so-called perfect hair and perfect make-up and perfect clothes, and then I look over at Riley, whose hair is a messy knot on top of her head, make-up free, wearing my shirt and a pair of old workout shorts, standing barefoot in my garage. They couldn’t be more opposite if they tried and if you asked me a thousand times over to choose between them, my answer is and always will be Riley. Because while Heidi might seem perfect, she’s not perfect for me. Riley on the other hand… well, she’s my Riley.
And I’m madly in love with her.
Obviously.
 
 
Twenty-Six
 

Dylan
With my eyes closed, I blindly reach for the phone on my nightstand. I’d gotten used to Riley’s messages in the middle of the night so it didn’t surprise me at all when her name popped up. What did surprise me was the message. Riley: Are you up? I’m outside. Let me in.
Dylan: kjd
Riley: It’s cold, Dylan.
I kick the covers off and stumble down the hall and toward the door. “I need you,” she says as soon as I open it. She presses her freezing cold hands against my bare stomach and I squeal—like a girl—and swat her hands away. She laughs and grabs my hand, then drags me through the house and into my room. Keep in mind, I’m still half asleep, so I don’t really realize that I’m back in my room and she’s thrown me on the mattress and started removing her top until she says, “I need you, Dylan.” And then everything becomes clear, even in the semi-dark of my room. I sit up, my heart racing and my dick already at half-mast when her bare breasts come into view.
I smack my cheek, forcing myself to wake up because I don’t want to miss this. Not a single second.
Now she’s standing in front of me, wearing nothing but bright white panties and holy fucking shit.
I smack my cheek again just in case this is a dream.
“What are you doing?” she asks, wrapping her fingers around my wrist to stop me from doing it again.
Now her bare legs are between mine and I don’t think I’m breathing. At all. I run my thumb at the sweet spot between her legs, feeling the heat emit against my skin. She moans softly, her forearms on my shoulders and her head tilted back, her eyes closed and her tits on full display. I reach up with my free hand and cover one, then dip my head and replace my other thumb with my mouth, tasting her over the fabric of her panties. They’re silk—soft and wet against my lips.
“Wait,” she whispers. She must be fucking crazy. There’s no way I’m waiting. Instead, I run my hands down the arch of her back, to her ass, beneath her panties and I squeeze hard, bringing her mound closer to my open mouth. She’s gripping my hair now, squeezing her legs together and trying to push away.
Yeah, she’s fucking insane if she thinks it’ll stop me.
I lower my hands, past her ass and to her thighs, pushing her panties down. I bite my lip when they drop to the floor, giving me a perfect view of her pussy only inches away from me.
“Dylan, I’ve never—” She breaks off on a moan when I kiss her there, tasting her for the first time. I grab her leg and place her foot on the mattress beside me, opening her up… just for me. Then, like a man possessed, I dive in. She pulls on my hair, but she’s not pushing me away this time, she’s holding me to her… as if there’d be anywhere else I’d rather be.
I run a single finger between her folds, touching our combined wetness. Then I put it inside her, feeling her contract around me. She’s so tight. So fucking wet. So perfect. “Jesus Christ,” I groan between licks. I take my finger out, replacing it with two, while my mouth moves up and covers her clit.
She moans again, her hips rocking back and forth, matching my fingers as they move in and out. It doesn’t take long for her release and the second she’s done she drops her leg back to the floor, and then drops to her knees, her hands already on the band of my boxers. I lift slightly; just enough for her to pull them down and free my cock. Her eyes widen slightly and inside I’m fucking beaming with pride. Outside, I’m forcing myself to breathe. I lean back on my arms; grateful she makes me do those fucking shoulder exercises so I can actually hold my weight. Then she looks up—her eyes hazy, filled with lust—the tip of my cock an inch from her mouth.
I lick my lips and drop my gaze to her now warm hand curled around my dick and I swear if this is a dream I’m going to cry. Legit, cry.
It’s not a dream, though. Because my dreams of this moment don’t come close to the feeling of her warm mouth around me, her lips spread thin. Not gonna lie, I’ve thought about this moment a lot. A little too much. Every single time she pouted, my mind pictured those lips exactly where they are. And now it’s happening. And I’m close. Closer than I wanted to be.
She’s hesitant, it seems, which just makes my cock throb in her mouth because her inexperience mixed with innocence makes her even hotter. She pulls back, takes a breath and then resumes her position, her eyes focused on her task. I place my hand in her hair and slowly guide her, not to be forceful, but to be…. helpful. Yeah. Helpful.
I lean back on my outstretched arm, the other hand still in her hair and I wonder how the fuck it is I got so lucky. Then she looks up again, her eyebrows raised as if asking if I’m enjoying what she’s doing. That one look—that single second—is my undoing. I push her away and reach for a discarded shirt. “Like this?” she asks, making a fist around my dick and pumping to the same pace as her mouth only seconds earlier.