The Score

Damn it. Why am I letting that man get under my skin? So what if I grew up with money? I still know the meaning of struggle and hardship and…fuck, who am I kidding? The Life of Dean is pretty sweet. It always has been. But I can still empathize with people who’ve been less fortunate than I am. I can still “step up and be there” when someone fucking needs me.

We climb the sweeping marble staircase and she stops to admire one of my mom’s favorite abstract paintings. For all the pomp and circumstance of this place, my parents didn’t go overboard with the décor. The penthouse has a clean, modern design, and most of the art on the walls is by no means expensive. Mom is all about supporting local artists.

“Is your room on the second floor?” Allie asks.

I shake my head. “Master bedroom is down there.” I point to the left. “Guest rooms are there.” I point to the right. “You want to see any of those or can we skip this floor?”

“We can skip it.” She’s already bounding up the stairs again.

I lead her into my bedroom. She admires every inch of the enormous room, from the custom-made oak bed to the built-in bookshelves to the wall of gleaming windows.

“No curtains?” She sounds a bit dazed.

“Automatic shades,” I admit. “Remote-control operated.”

“Wow.” As she wanders around exploring, the sunlight flooding the room catches in her golden hair, which is loose around her shoulders. She studies the endless rows of titles on the bookshelf, then whirls toward me. “Okay. Admit it.”

“Admit what?”

She points an accusing finger at me. “You’re smart.”

I snort loudly. “Of course I’m smart.”

“You sure as hell don’t act like it.” Allie crosses her arms over the front of her loose striped sweater. “In fact, I feel like you go out of your way to make everyone believe you’re a dummy. With your ‘baby dolls’ and foul language and the way you throw ‘ain’t’ into a sentence every so often.”

I flash her a grin. “Nope, that’s just how I fucking talk, baby doll. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

Her eyes dance with amusement. “Uh-huh. So how come you never talk about law school?”

“What’s there to talk about? I’m not in law school yet.” I sit on the edge of the bed that I hastily made right before she got here.

“But aren’t you excited about it?” she presses.

“Eh. Not really.” At her frown, I chuckle softly. “I’m sure I’ll be excited when I’m there. I’m a live-in-the-moment kinda guy, remember?” I pat the bedspread, then crook a finger at her. “Get over here already, will ya?”

“Give me one good reason why I should.”

I slide my hand into my crotch and cup it. “Little Dean is feeling ignored.”

Laughing, Allie climbs into my lap and rests her hands on the back of my neck. She brings her mouth close to mine. “Poor guy. Does he need an afternoon delight?”

“He’s dying for it,” I murmur. Our lips meet in a kiss at the same time I ease my hands under her shirt. I groan when her bare breasts fill my palms. I frickin’ love it when she doesn’t wear a bra. Makes it so much easier to lift up her shirt and pop one sweet nipple into my mouth.

“Ohhh,” she moans. “That’s nice.”

“About to get nicer, baby.” I work my other hand between our bodies so I’m cupping her over her leggings. “Fuck. We need to get these clothes off.”

Allie’s gaze darts toward the windows. “Should we close the shades? Where’s the remote?”

I’m wholly focused on the delicious task of suckling her nipple, working my tongue over the hard bud.

“Dean,” she protests. “We’re pretty much in a glass box! What if there’s someone with a telescope watching us from one of the other buildings?”

“Then they’re going to get a helluva show.” I pinch both nipples, and I’m rewarded with a throaty noise.

Her objections die off as I lower her onto the mattress and proceed to peel every stitch of clothing off her body. She pushes my sweats off my hips and I kick them away, and then we’re naked and kissing and rolling around on my huge bed until we’re both breathless.

“Cool if we save foreplay for later?” I whisper against her neck before dragging my tongue back to her tits again.

“Mmm-hmmm. Just get inside me already,” she whispers back.

I grab a condom and fit myself against her soaked pussy, thanking God, and any other deities who care to hear my gratitude, that Allie’s as turned on as I am. Our sexual compatibility is off the charts. We both hiss out pleasure-laced breaths as I slide home. Home? I halt mid-thrust.

“Don’t stop.” Allie’s husky command makes my balls tighten. I’m developing a Pavlovian response to her catalog of sounds. Breathy moans, raspy sighs and I’m semi-hard, if not at full mast. Happy noises, laughs and I’m grinning back. It’s…different.

She taps me on the shoulder impatiently. “Need some instruction? Because Little Dean isn’t all the way in yet.”

I muffle a chuckle against her luscious tits and thrust home. There. I said it. Home. This is sex, for chrissake. I don’t need to overthink this. Not with Allie. She wants me balls deep, fucking her mindless, and that’s what I want, too.

“Oh he’s in, baby. He’s in so far and so hard you’re going to feel it for days.” I jack forward hard enough that she skitters halfway across the mattress. She braces her hands against the padded headboard and stares at me from under heavy-lidded eyes with a come and get me look.

Yeah, she rocks my world. And I’m going to return the favor.

The walls of her pussy convulse around me, squeezing me in the most erotic hug ever invented. I fight off my orgasm. No way am I coming yet. I want to see those gorgeous eyes rolling back in her head. I want her mouth falling open and her face to take on that totally-lost-in-the-moment glazed expression she gets when she’s so into the fucking that I know nothing is in her head but me.

I push her hair back, tangling my fingers in the thick strands and tugging her head so I can kiss her properly. She attacks my tongue, sucking it into her mouth, letting me fuck her with it while I hammer her with my dick.