Page 28 of Beware of Dog (Lean Dogs Legacy #6)

When he drew back, he didn’t go far, face close, breath warm, voice gratifyingly husky. “Okay, so, yeah. It can be fun to hook up with someone experienced.”

She stuck out her tongue—and he darted down to bite it.

She gasped in shocked outrage and it quickly turned into a giggle.

“You little shit. Can you listen for one goddamn second?” He was beaming.

She sighed theatrically, but nodded.

Shep shifted around, so his hip was against hers, one of his hairy legs sliding along the inside of her thigh. He was still up on his elbow, and the effort of holding the awkward pose didn’t seem to faze him, though it put all the muscles of his torso on delightful display.

“ Some guys ,” he stressed, “just wanna get their rocks off and not take a buncha time starting slow. It’s just about sex. There’s nothing wrong with that. It can be fun— can be ,” he stressed again, when she frowned.

“But do you honestly think I’m lying here thinking, ‘Aw shit, this loser doesn’t even know how to suck a dick?’ No ,” he tacked on, quick, before she could offer an opinion. “You think I’m gonna drop the L-word on you and then decide, nah, I ain’t got time to go slow?”

Relief filled her with light. She said, “L-word? God, you said it once, and you’ll never say it again, will you?”

He kissed her again, until she whimpered.

When he drew back this time, his gaze had gone intense.

“ I love you ,” he said, firmly, and oh God, that was devastating.

“I care about you, and I worry about you, and I want you to be happy, and I am fucking stoked that I get to have you in my bed and know that nobody but me’s ever gotten to touch you. ”

“Oh,” she said, weakly, and that was all she could say.

His gaze roved her face, and it was hungry and fond at the same time.

“I love you, and I don’t want to hurt you, or freak you out, so I gotta know if you’re a virgin, or if you ever watch porn, or if you touch yourself.

I’m not just gonna throw you down and whip my dick out and scare you to death.

” He kissed her again, softer this time.

“I want it to be good , Cassie.” His hand resumed its slow sweeps across her stomach. “Yeah?”

It was difficult to swallow. Or think, really. “Yeah, okay.”

“Okay.” His hand skimmed over her ribs, and then slid up under her back. She arched a little to help him, and he made deft work of her bra clasp. “Virgin?”

“Yeah.” She slipped her arms out of the straps, a little clumsy.

“Porn?” He hooked a finger under the Victoria’s Secret bow at the center of her bra, drew it off, and chucked it over his shoulder.

His gaze fell to her breasts, soft and a little spread out like this, lying on her back.

She knew they were larger than her sister’s, but she had no idea what he’d seen and felt up to compare them to.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, then blinked, and refocused. “Porn?”

“Only a little. Just—just a video or two my friend had on her laptop. It was pretty tame, I think.”

His hand retraced its path around her ribs, and then slid up to clasp her breast. The way his touch reshaped it was mesmerizing. The slide of his callused fingertips over such sensitive skin made her breathe out, “Oh, shit.”

“You ever play with your tits?” he asked, his eyes trained on them, and before she could answer, he leaned down and sucked her nipple into his mouth.

It turned out she was not at all prepared for that. The sensation was electric; it lifted her shoulders off the bed, and sex went slick and hot. “Oh my God,” she gasped, and squirmed her hips, her legs sliding against his with nerve-sparking friction.

He skimmed his mouth down her breast and breathed hotly against her sternum. “Hm?”

It took her a second to remember the question. “Y-yes.” And she did, sometimes, in the shower, or alone in her room. She’d discovered she was very sensitive there.

He lifted up, and before she could protest, said, “Show me.”

While he watched, nostrils flared, chest lifting hard on each breath, she reached up to cup her breasts.

It had never felt so good to touch herself, and she murmured, “Christ.” She pressed her breasts together, and thumbed over her nipples, and her hips ground upward, searching for friction. She was on fire .

He watched her for a minute that felt like an hour, wetting his lips, eyes dilating, while she worked herself up to a desperate point. “Shep—”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” He brushed her hands out of the way and covered her breasts with his much larger ones. She moaned. “Yeah. You like that?”

“Fucking duh ,” she panted.

He grinned, and then bent his head and put his mouth on her nipples. Hard suction on one, and then the other. Flicks of his tongue and scrapes of his teeth.

The tightening in her belly, and the throbbing pressure between her thighs spiked. Not an orgasm, but the hint of one. Just a little more, just something to grind against…

“That’s so good,” she gasped, “but I need—can you—”

The moment she started speaking, one of his hands pressed flat to her stomach and slid downward, a hot brand that skimmed straight down and shoved under her panties. She was so wet, and his fingers slipped against her, thumb on her clit, middle finger pushing up against her entrance.

She came with a shocked cry of his name, and her hands fisted in his hair.

~*~

“Oh, that’s— oh .”

“Doesn’t hurt?”

Later, when her brain wasn’t melting out of her ears, Cass would have a laugh to herself: how many people would have believed her if she’d told them Frank Shepherd was a careful and considerate lover?

At some point while she was pulsing all over with a warm glow, her eyes shut, he disappeared, and reappeared before she could start to panic with a warm, damp cloth and a glass of water, of which he made her drink every drop.

He’d stripped off her soaked panties, and his boxer-briefs, and stretched out beside her on the bed until she’d calmed down, and they were bantering again, and then he’d started stroking her all over, winding her back up.

Now, she was on her back again, knees up, feet braced on the mattress, with Shep crowded in close between them, his cock hard and hot against the inside of her thigh.

His hips would hitch every so often, and she loved the idea that he was getting a little carried away.

But then he’d settle, and refocus on the task at hand.

That task being to slowly drive her mad while he stretched her on his fingers, one at a time. They were up to three, and Cass was shaking.

“Cass,” he prompted.

Oh, right. He’d asked her a question. “It doesn’t hurt.”

He smirked. “Liar.”

She sighed. How was it possible to be this turned on and annoyed at the same time? Only Shep…

He withdrew his fingers.

“No, no, wait, come on.” She reached down and caught his hand, a little stunned and a lot excited about how slick it was.

Her heart was beating so fast she felt faint; it was hard to form full sentences.

“It doesn’t hurt,” she repeated, and it didn’t, not badly.

“It’s just…a lot. It’s…” The word overwhelming wouldn’t come. “But, please. Please, I want it.”

Shep studied her a moment, jaw tight, gaze soft. His Adama’s apple jumped hard. “Okay, yeah,” he said, gruffly, after a beat, and he pushed back in with four fingers.

She couldn’t hold her head up to watch anymore. Her head fell back, and then her eyes fell shut, and she didn’t realize she was making hurt little noises until he braced his free hand on the mattress beside her head and leaned his face in close to hers.

“Shh, shh, I got you,” he murmured, as his fingers thrust, a wide stretch, but not as deep as his cock would reach.

She didn’t realize she was crying until he kissed her eyelid and said, “Don’t cry, baby. You want it? You want me?”

She slung her arms around his neck. “ Yes . Shep, please .”

“Alright, alright, hold on.” His voice was ragged, breathless. “Let go a sec and I’ll give it to you.”

She whimpered when his fingers withdrew again.

But then came the crinkling of foil, and his big, warm hands settled on her thighs, rearranging her legs, spreading her further.

His hipbones were sharp when she closed her legs around his waist. And his cock, when it pressed at her entrance, was blunt, and hot, and intimidating in a way that thrilled her to the bone.

“Cass.” She’d never heard his voice lower, rougher. “Look at me.”

She opened her eyes, and she thought she’d never forget the sight of him between her thighs, poised above her, braced on one hand, face taut with desire. But still waiting, still wanting her to give him the nod, because it was her first time, and he loved her, and didn’t want to hurt her.

Her eyes filled with fresh tears, and she was afraid he’d recoil from them. She clutched at his arm, his shoulder, dug her nails in deep, and the muscles along his sides flickered in response.

“You ready, baby?”

“Yeah.”

He shuffled in a fraction closer, cockhead pushing between her folds, getting right there , and he gripped her waist, and pulled her toward him.

The first breach was an impossible-seeming stretch, and a faint burn. But that wasn’t why she gasped; she gasped because it was happening. Because it was him. Because it was them. And this felt like something perfect and inevitable; a lost puzzle piece of her life finally clicking into place.

She loved her family, such as it was, and her art, and she loved crisp fall mornings, and sun-sticky summers, and watching the sun come up over Manhattan every morning. But there was a hollow place inside her; a melancholy knowledge that she hadn’t found her niche in the world.

And now here it was.

She gripped him tight, watching the strain on his face, watching the tendons stretch like building girders on the sides of his throat, and said, all in a rush, “Oh God, Shep, it’s so much, it’s so much, don’t stop, please, please, please don’t stop, I’ll die if you do.”

He barked a short laugh. “Dramatic little brat.”

“You love it.”

“Fuck yeah, I do. Come on. Relax for me, baby. Attagirl . Jesus.”

He worked his hips in slow, short little thrusts, pausing now and then to rub at her sides, her belly, the insides of her thighs. He teased at her clit until a sharp spike of pleasure made her moan, and then slid in another fraction.

She could tell he’d bottomed out when he tipped his head back a moment, eyes shut, his throat and sweat-sheened collarbones and chest a work of art.

“God damn ,” he murmured. “Good girl.” Then he tipped his head forward, and with a slack mouth and blown pupils, breath hitching his chest on each inhale, asked, “How’s it feel? ”

She squirmed a little, gratified by the way he hissed. His arms were drawn up tight, each muscle distinct. His hair, damp with sweat at the roots, curled above his ears, and on his forehead.

“It feels like I sat on a fencepost,” she said, “but in a good way.”

His eyes widened, and then he laughed. One bright, sharp burst that dissolved into chuckles that rattled her like an earthquake.

“Oh, God,” she said, groaning and laughing herself. “Don’t laugh.”

“Stop saying hilarious shit when I’m balls-deep!”

“No!” she shouted back.

And then they were both falling apart.

Shep leaned down low so he could cage her in with his arms, sweaty face pressed to her equally-sweaty throat, half-crushing her with his weight.

The change of angle shifted his cock inside her, which was still hard, and still so much , and the absurdity of the whole situation bowled her over into a fit of giggles, both their laughing chests pushing at one another.

Cass wrapped her arms around him and held on tight.

Slowly, as their laughter died down, her body adjusted to the feel of him fully-seated inside her. Her muscles relaxed, and instead of an intrusion, the stretch became a welcome, warm fullness. She tightened up on purpose, and—and oh , that was something, wasn’t it? That was kind of thrilling.

“Shit,” he murmured, and turned his head to kiss her throat, her ear, her jaw. He pushed up a little on his arms, so his face hovered over hers, and Cass had never seen anyone gaze at her with such fondness. “You don’t ever cut me an inch of slack, do you?”

“No.” She squeezed on him again. “I—oh, oh, God—no, I don’t.”

He ground his hips in a circular motion.

“Ah! God, do that again— Jesus . I want to…want to…God, Frank …win the award for—for—most… absurd sex you’ve ever had. Christ.” He was executing some sort of Magic Mike roll with his hips and her brain was starting to melt again.

He grunted, and swore, said, between panted breaths, “Congrats, babydoll, no contest.”

He leaned down and kissed her, filthy and slow to match his building thrusts. His smile, when he pulled back, was nothing short of adoring.

Then he sat up, and palmed at her hips, and dragged her in somehow closer.

She let out an undignified, “Gah,” sound, and clutched at his ropey forearms.

“You wanna get fucked good?”

“Isn’t that— oh —what I’ve been saying?”

“Yeah. Say it again.”

She did, and she was.