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CHAPTER

TWENTY-THREE

CLARA JUNE

Dean stirs as I sit next to him on the couch. I reach beneath the blanket, peering down the hall one more time to make sure the boys are still asleep. It’s a few minutes after five, and I set my alarm just for this.

I slip my hand up the leg of his boxers, and find his cock, already steely and hard. A moan escapes me as I swipe my thumb over the head, finding him hot and slick. He grips my wrist and opens his eyes.

“Please,” I whimper. “It’s been months. I need this. I need you. Please, Dean,” I beg, finding myself wet and achy. That’s what I am now. Wet and achy all the time. Horny all the time. Dean makes me come every damn second he can get, and it’s so good. Every time it's incredible.

Amazing.

Mind blowing.

I’m still sensitive and come so fast it makes him take me over and over, even when I think I can’t come again, he pulls another from me.

But all of it is making me need him and want him more and more.

If I don’t feel his Pringles can fuck my insides up within the next week, I may actually lose my mind. Nurses will come by my holding cell and read my chart. LOST MIND FROM LACK OF COWBOY COCK.

Seriously.

Dean smiles. “How about we meet halfway?”

With my bedroom door locked, Dean takes my nightgown off, tugging it over my head.

A delighted rumble moves through his chest as he takes my breasts in both of his hands, squeezing gently before pressing a kiss to each stiffened tip.

Then he steps back, tugging down the soft cotton boxers he’s wearing to bed.

It’s his first night sleeping over, and closing my door last night, knowing he was out there on the couch with his monster cock, talented tongue and big, rough hands? I touched myself and made myself come, for the first time in years, with his name on my lips.

Well, not his name but…Coach.

“I touched myself last night, thinking about when you finally fuck me,” I tell him, not even embarassed by the vulgarity.

He yanks his gray t-shirt off over his head.

His stomach is muscled and tan, and the blonde hair that peppers his torso is trimmed and neat, but calls to me to run my fingers through it.

The hefting slope of his shoulders and the momentous bulge of his biceps—he’s so sexy, and the fact that he won’t fuck me is making me want him that much more.

And the best part? He’s not withholding to make me want him more, it’s just a torturous side effect.

I swallow the mouthful of drool that pools from looking at him.

He hooks his thumbs in his boxer briefs and tugs them down.

Just as my mouth is opening in a gasp, he crushes his palm along my jaw gently, quieting me as I gasp at the sight of him completely nude. “Shh,” he offers, taking his hand off my mouth as I gape in awe.

“I know I’ve already seen it, but my god! I haven’t seen it enough. I think I want a photo of it on my nightstand,” I tease him, turning my head to the side slightly to get a better look at it.

“Do you want me in it or just my dick?” he asks, teasing me as I take him in.

I shake my head. “I don’t think all of you will fit in one photo.” I look up at him. “Have you broken any women with that?”

He levels me a serious glare, but all the while, his lips twitch with a smirk. “I have not broken any women. In fact, it’s been eight years since I’ve made love.” The smirk falls away as he takes my hand, guiding me onto the bed. “Get on your hands and knees,” he directs quietly.

Eight years. Eight years? My god. I do as he says, and when he presses my head and chest down, flush to the mattress, my ass still sticking up like a dog in heat, he begins smoothing his fingers through my hair.

Collecting it gently, he says, “The reason I want to go slow with you, specifically Clara June, is because I see things with you. I see things happening between us that I’ve never seen before.

I feel things I’ve never felt. And when I get the honor of knowing what it’s like to get inside you, I wanna feel you.

All of you. Every clench,” he strokes his fingers through my slit and I moan into the mattress.

“Every throb,” he says, teasing my entrance with slippery fingers.

“Everything.” Once my hair is in his hand, rolled around his knuckles tightly, he tips my face to the side.

A heavy, hot weight comes down on the side of my face, along my temple and cheek.

I stick out my tongue, making a blind swipe, and realize…

he put his cock on my face. Holding me down, standing on his knees behind me, he pumps his hips slowly.

His cock slides along my face, thick and hot, making my cunt pulse.

He curls fingers inside of me, then releases my hair to use his hand, forcing his thumb on his shaft.

He continues these hypnotizing, rhythmic motions of sliding his cock over my face, each pass bringing his cockhead over my open, hungry mouth. “To feel everything, I need to get inside you bare, and that’s something we need to talk about.”

I nod. I moan. I’d agree to sell my soul to the devil himself right now if it meant more of Dean.

“So we’ll talk about that soon, alright?

” he says, sliding his thick cock forward again, grunting through his thrust. Precum begins dripping from his cock, and each slide of him against my cheek tugs his foreskin back, sending a splatter of opaque liquid flying, my tongue out, desperate for molecules of it. Of him.

I nod, but search for his crown with my tongue. He laughs softly. “Look at you, mama, hungry for my cock, aren’t you?”

With the hand holding himself against me, he pumps himself a few times, then orders me to open my mouth. I can’t see him, but I can feel his body heat and sense the long thread of precum that drips from his slit onto my tongue, some of it dripping over my bottom lip and onto my chin.

“I’m waiting until we work it all out. And once we do, then I’ll sink into the best, tightest, wettest place in the world, and look into your eyes while I make you feel things you’ve never felt.

I can promise that, Clara June, because I mean it.

I will make you feel so good, I will put so many babies in you, you’ll have a belly with my baby in it forever.

I’ll fuck you so much, you’ll be leaking my cum down your perfect thighs every day.

You’ll have to excuse yourself to the restroom just to pull down your panties and ring them out, ring my cum out of them.

My cum— mine , because that’s what you are— mine . ”

I can’t take it anymore. His filthy mouth and his massive cock, all the promises to talk about our future—I reach beneath myself and find my clit, and get to stroking.

He lets me, rewarding me with more precome.

I wish I could see him. I wish I could see the flare in his eyes as he touches himself.

I want to see him feeding me his arousal, and when he comes, I want to see it.

I want to see the way that monstrous cock throbs and pumps. It’s probably a thing of beauty.

He bats my hand away, lodging three fingers to the hilt, curling them as he continues pumping his hips.

His hot, steely cock is slippery against my cheek, and when I hear him groan, deep and rough, I imagine his lips pressed in a line, jaw set, stomach flexed.

I imagine he’s close and restraint is being put to the test.

“Halfway,” he groans, “isn’t what either of us want, is it mama?

You want everything, the same as me, don’t you?

” Another hard slide of his cock against my jaw, more precum down my chin, soaking the bed.

My cunt flutters, and desire coils tight in my belly.

A low, simmering need fills my veins, every inch of me needing him, from the tips of my toes, to the top of my scalp.

I nod, moan. “Yes, Coach.” I roll my lips together, sensing a curtain of sweat on my back, beneath my knees. “Please, make me come, please,” I beg, his thick fingers rolling and straightening inside me, nudging the place that makes me unravel.

“You give me two, and I’ll give you a taste of halfway,” he barters, and right now, I’m so wet, so horny, so needy for him that I’d agree to anything. He leans down, hot breath and even hotter words dusting my ear. “You ready, mama?”

I nod.

The pad of Dean’s thumb drops to my clit as he curls his three fingers, the combination of pressure and pleasure, the heft of his cock along my face, his words, him, him, him…

“I’m coming,” I whisper-moan, wanting to twist my face into the mattress and bury my sobs, but unable to turn my head aw ay from him, away from his cock resting idly on my cheek, heavy, and full.

“So tight, so responsive, I love how fast you come for me,” he croons, using that word that sounds so electric on his tongue. He pulls his hand out, hollowing me of pleasure, then slaps my ass gently, muffling the sound as much as he can. “Now one more.”

I’m sensitive and swollen, and if I looked, probably bright red. “I can’t,”I whisper, writhing against the bed, but he doesn’t let me up. Instead, he strokes his cock against my cheek again and again, surging his hips forward in a cadence that has my clit humming for more in less than a minute.

“I’m gonna make you come again, so be ready,” he warns before sinking a finger deep inside me, using the tip of his pointer finger to tease my clit.

It’s been two seconds, but I’m so eager, swollen, and knowing he’s in my house for the near future, sleeping feet away, all steel wall of muscle and Pringles can-sized dick.

“Dean,” I breathe out, warning him with my tone alone.

“You ready again?” His chuckle is quiet but dark, scraping the neediest places inside me. Another thrust, his erection slippery against my cheek. His finger nudges my clit, then swirls a figure eight around it, making my back arch. I’m toast. Completely done.

“Yes, Coach, I’m coming, I’m coming,” I murmur, my mind nearly exploding from how easily he unravels me. I thought I was fundamentally broken, and because I couldn’t even get myself off, I truly thought I’d never have these pleasures again.

He fingers me throughout my second orgasm, and just when I’m whimpering no, ready to tell him I can’t possibly go for three, he makes a noise I haven’t heard.

A groan, a plea, something rough and violent trapped in his throat, like he, too is trying to be quiet, but fighting something so urgent and powerful, he’s struggling.

Then he comes, ribbons of pearly liquid pulse from his cockhead, rivering into my open mouth, shot after shot.

I close my mouth after the fourth, moving his come around on my tongue, making room to collect more.

When I open again, I’m gifted more shots, more hot come, thick and abundant, fed to me against the soundtrack of Dean’s raucous moans.

“Drink me down, mama, c’mon,” his voice is rawer than it’s ever been, stripped away of everything but his most carnal need. “Can’t wait to empty this inside you, get you pregnant for us,” he grunts and groans, and there’s so much release, so much come—I swallow three times.

And then he’s pulling back, stealing his cock away, moving around the bed to wipe up my face and pussy.

He repositions me, head on the pillows, legs out.

Naked, his cock not fully soft yet, he moves around the room, collecting things.

First he sits me up, and tugs my nightgown on, righting it, then my hair.

I can’t help but smile the entire time he does.

I’ve never been taken care of like this. Not the orgasms, or being dressed, or the help with the boys or dinner… none of it. It’s all new.

“That was so hot,” I tell him, my face growing pink at the admission. He steps into boxers, then pulls on his sleep pants.

“It was,” he agrees, winking as he rights his shirt, previously inside out from the urgency with which he stripped out of it.

I want to ask him about the dirty things he said, pull them apart, turn them over in my hands, analyze them with a microscope to see if there’s a shred, a molecule, or even an ion of truth in them.

Or were they things simply muttered in the heat of the moment?

I run my fingers through my hair, braiding it quickly as Dean fixes my bedspread and then tries to wipe his cum off my fitted sheet.

It must be both truth and dirty talk, because he pretty much admitted that the only reason we haven’t made love yet is because he wants to do it without protection, and that’s serious. Serious enough that we should be sure about each other, and what the other person wants.

He grabs my hand, taking me from my deep thoughts. “Let’s talk tonight. When are you off?”

I think about the day. Wednesday. “Not til seven.” I roll my lips together, taking in his mussed golden hair, and the slight puffiness beneath his eyes. He looks sexy post-sleep. I love him in his cowboy hat, but this is hot, too.

“I talked to the boys about you staying here, you know?” I start, and he nods because of course he knows.

He wouldn’t come here and sleep here had I not made sure with the boys first that it was okay.

“When I was talking to them, though, Rawley and Tanner, they asked if we were getting serious, and you know what Tanner said?”

Dean swallows, as if he knows instinctually that what’s coming is emotionally weighty. “What?”

“That he could see us being married one day.” My heart is racing a million miles a second, and I hope that Dean knows that this isn’t my awkward way to fish about marriage.

“I’m only telling you that because I know you want my boys to know what’s happening between us, and they do.

They do and they approve.” I smile. “They adore you Dean.”

They love you. And so do I. I don’t say that much though.

He smiles, then cups my face, kissing my cheek. “Sleep if you don’t have to be in until 9. I’ll make some breakfast, get Archie to school. Rawley drives him and Tanner, right? ”

I nod. “Yeah.”

He turns for the door but leaves me with a warning. “If you don’t rest, you’re gonna owe me three more, so don’t test me.” A wink, and he’s gone.

And I’m gone, too. So gone.