More Than Enough
Page 59

I moan.
I don’t mean to, but holy shit I’ve missed him.
Every square inch of him.
His shoulders tense when he hears the sound that can only be described as pure lust. Slowly, he turns to me, not bothering to cover himself. Then he smirks. “You’re late.”
“I’m sorry.” I can’t stop looking at his—
He clears his throat.
I lift my gaze, pausing for a moment at the perfect V just below his perfect abs and perfect chest and FYI, Naked Dylan = Hot As Fuck Dylan.
He stalks toward me, his body on show, and when he’s close enough he reaches for my hand and pulls me into the room, shutting the door behind me.
“Hi,” he says, pushing me gently until my back is pressed to the door.
The nerves and the butterflies return and I drop my gaze, too afraid to look at him.
He moves forward again, his warm body pressed against mine as he dips his head, his mouth to my ear. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
I inhale deeply, feeling his chest press harder into mine. “I’m nervous,” I admit.
His lips curve against my neck as he kisses me softly. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” My body melts into his when his hands find my waist, his thumb stroking my bare stomach between my shorts and my shirt.
Then, slowly, one of his hands move from my waist and up my sides until he’s cupping my face. His mouth moves from my neck, up my jaw, and across my cheek, his kisses relentless. Then he pulls away, just enough to run his tongue along my lips, begging for entrance.
If it wasn’t for him pressing me against the door, I’d be on the floor in a puddle of my own need and desire.
Literally.
He kisses me. Softly at first, then all at once we lose control. Of the need. Of the lust. Of the longing. Of ourselves.
One of his hands is in my hair, pulling gently, making my head tilt back to make my mouth more accessible to him. The other’s on my shorts, making fast work of the button and the zipper. And me? I have no idea what to do with my hands so I grasp his hardness, upright between us, and I stroke gently, smiling against his lips when he curses into my mouth. Now my shorts are on the floor, his fingers inside me and his mouth around my nipple. I don’t even remember him pulling up my shirt. “Riley,” he murmurs, moving up from my breast and to my mouth again. “Promise. Tonight I’ll worship your body. But right now, I need inside you. I need to fuck you, Riley.”
He removes his fingers from inside me and uses both hands to cup my ass as I kick off my shorts and without effort, he lifts me, pinning my body against the door with him between my legs while I guide him to where I need him the most.
My cry of pleasure is stifled by his shoulder when he fills me—my eyes rolling to the back of my head—my head that just hit the door behind me. He pauses inside—letting our bodies get used to the sensation—our foreheads touching as his eyes search mine. “You’re so beautiful,” he says.
And then he moves. Pulling out slowly just to thrust into me again. And again. And again. With so much force the door bangs against the frame. Over and over. And over again.
My fingers curl, gripping his shoulders as immeasurable pleasure washes through me. He pulls back from the kiss, replacing his tongue with his thumb and I suck on it, making it wet, knowing that he’s about to do something he’s done so many times before. Leaning back, my body still pinned to the door, he uses his thumb to circle my clit, all while he pumps into me, his other arm around my back to keep me in place.
My breaths are heavy, my body on fire from the onslaught of pleasure he’s creating.
My fingers dig deeper.
“So fucking wet,” he murmurs. “So fucking beautiful.”
Bodies covered in sweat, we move as one until I come, a loud moan escaping before I can stop it. A second later, he follows, his muscles tensing beneath my touch. I collapse into his arms while he lowers me gently back to earth—to reality. A reality so perfect I don’t want to be anywhere else. Then he laughs, hugging me in his arms. “You were so fucking loud, Riley. Neighbors three streets down would’ve heard you.”
I look up at him, shock clear on my face. “Shut up.”
He smirks, his eyebrow quirked. Then he smacks my bare ass. “I don’t know how you’re going to face everyone now.”
“But… it wasn’t just me,” I whine.
He laughs again. “Riley, I’m a guy. That makes me a fucking boss. You on the other hand…”
I kiss him quickly. “I’m a girl who’s missed her man. Besides…” I shrug. “It’s my party and I’ll fuck if I want to.”
 
 
Thirty-Seven
 

Riley
Most of the guests clear out soon after. I’m not sure if it’s because Dylan’s here or because… well… let’s put it this way: Mom refused to make eye contact and Mal blushed fifty shades of red whenever I was near him.
The only ones who hang around are our friends. We have a few quiet drinks (sans me) around the fire pit while the afternoon sun begins to dip. They talk a lot, mainly about Jake and Kayla’s travels around the states and their overseas ones coming up. I sit with Dylan, his hand on my leg as we listen to them speak, neither of us really talking. Then when Jake chuckles and points to Dylan, I realize why. Next to me—my boyfriend’s sound asleep—his mouth parted and his chest rising and falling peacefully.
“He must be so tired.” Lucy pouts.
I look from Dylan to her. “Did y’all know he was coming?”
Jake answers, “Yep. Cam picked him up from the airport.”
My gaze moves to Cameron. “So you weren’t held up at work?”
He shakes his head.
Logan says, “That’s why your mom got us to sing Happy Birthday twice. They didn’t show up the first time.”
I smile, remembering my initial embarrassment. “I can’t believe you guys kept it a secret for so long.”
“He really wanted to surprise you, Ry. It was important to him,” Jake tells me.
Dylan’s hand on my leg shifts as he lets out a single snore.
Amanda says, “Let’s clean up so Riley can get Grandpa Banks to bed.”
We all stifle our laughs, hoping not to wake him, and we continue to do so while we clean up. With all of us working on it, it doesn’t take long. I say goodbye at the front door, telling them that we’ll be in touch when Dylan’s up to it and then I go back out to the yard, my smile growing with each step closer to him. “Come on, Grandpa Banks,” I whisper, squeezing his hand.
Slowly, his eyes open, his attention on me before looking around us. “I fell asleep?”
I nod with my smile.
“Where is everyone?”
“They left.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I ruined your party,” he says, his disappointment evident.
“Shut up.” I pull on his hand until he’s on his feet. “Let’s go to bed.”
He looks at his watch. “It’s only five.”
I lead him toward the house. “I said bed, Dylan. Not sleep.”
We don’t even make it to the bedroom before Bacon’s running circles around Dylan’s leg trying to get his attention. “It’s like he can sense another man’s about to take his place in the bed,” I tell him.