Chapter 5

5

DELIA

I 've never moved so fast in my life. Too bad for me my legs are like jelly, and I nearly trip in my haste to get up, grabbing my pajamas from the floor, panic screaming through me.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Brody is back and I'm spread out, in the middle of getting my pussy eaten by his fucking dad!

"Easy," Dean rumbles, putting a hand on my hip to stop me. "Sit back down. I'm not done with you. I'll take care of him."

"You're crazy!" I squeak, pulling away and making him growl in frustration. "Just...uh...crap! Just tell him I'm in the shower or something!"

"Delia..." Dean warns, but I don't care. Defying him makes me nervous, but not as nervous as the sound of the front door knob turning.

I squeal, sprinting naked down the hallway and slamming the guest bathroom door shut. I throw the water on, jumping underneath it before it even has time to warm up. The water is so cold it's almost painful, but once it hits my skin, I can finally breathe.

I'm good. He didn't catch me. Everything is fine.

Except, of course, for the fact that I'm in a freaking shower, hiding from my ex-boyfriend, legs still quivering from the orgasm his dad just gave me.

And I didn't even get to have my coffee.

As the water slowly warms, I can hear the two of them in the living room talking and flinch as the voices raise in clear argument. I guess Dean is still pissed that Brody left me last night, even if it meant he and I...

Well...

Made out a lot. And Dean went down on me. How am I ever going to live this down?

"FINE!" Brody screams loud enough for me to hear. "I'll go stay at a fucking hotel then! Should I even worry about coming back for dinner tomorrow?"

"Do whatever the fuck you want tomorrow." Dean's voice is cooler, more in control. "But for now, get your shit and get out of my house."

I listen, frozen, as the front door slams again. A few moments later, there's a knock on the bathroom door.

"Come on, princess," Dean calls. "You can't stay in there all day. Open the door."

"I will!" I call back. "In a minute."

He growls, and even though he can't see me, I flinch. I have a feeling that's a sound I will be getting used to. "Open. The. Door."

I will absolutely not open the door. "Um, actually, I was thinking..."

Dean's voice cuts through the wooden door with ease. "You're not going to pull back on me now, Delia."

"No, that's not it, but...I think maybe it would be a good idea if I just stayed in the bathroom for a while. You know, like a timeout." I know I'm babbling, but he just doesn't understand how much I need some space to process what just happened…and how much I want it to happen again.

He sounds skeptical. "A timeout?"

"Yeah, like, a punishment for being bad." I know I'm making no sense, but I'm exhausted and rattled from coming so hard I think I left my body for a moment.

There's silence, and I wonder if he's considering it. Then, a dark laugh sounds, and his footsteps fade away. Oh no.

Ten or so minutes later, I step out of the shower, dry off, and quickly get dressed before following him. Dean is sitting at the counter, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, his steel gray eyes watching me intently. He's dressed similar to yesterday, the insignia of the police department on his t-shirt and jeans, fitting him so perfectly it could bring a girl to tears.

"So…" I start.

"You thought you could just hide from me?" His voice is weirdly upbeat, especially coming from Dean.

"I..." My mouth feels so dry. I've never wanted a glass of water more in my life.

"Let's start again." Dean takes a long drink of his coffee and sighs. "Do you know why I call you 'princess'?"

I shake my head.

"Because you are. You're my princess, Delia. Mine. That means that when you're good, you're rewarded, and when you're bad..."

"When I'm bad, I'm punished." All of this seems so surreal. Didn't I just meet this guy? And now I'm letting him call me his?

Crap…

The bigger problem is, why am I okay with all of that?

He smiles. "Exactly. You're not a kid. You don't need a timeout. You need discipline. And you will get it, from now on, when you're not good."

My legs wobble, and I grip the counter to keep myself steady.

"Now, do you want coffee?"

"I...yeah. And a glass of water."

"Then go sit on the couch and wait for me. I'll bring you your drinks, and then we're going to talk."

I do as he says, settling on the couch and crossing my arms over my chest. My pajamas from last night don't feel like nearly enough clothes around Dean, which is stupid. He's already seen me naked.

A moment later, Dean hands me a cup of coffee, black, the way I like it. I take a sip, letting the flavor wash over me, and sigh. "So, what do you want to talk about?"

"Let's start with how much Brody knows."

I flush. "Did he see us? Please tell me he didn't."

Dean shakes his head. "No. But I'm sure he has an idea, considering the pillows and blankets gave away that we slept in the living room. And he tried to go to talk to you in the shower, and I almost broke his nose. So yeah...he's not totally stupid."

My stomach rolls, and I press a hand to it. "Oh my god. I feel...Brody is..."

"It's okay, baby. I just needed you to know he's not completely in the dark." He takes my hand, stroking his thumb over my knuckles comfortingly. "We don't have to talk about him anymore. He's not part of this."

Tapping my fingernails on my coffee mug, I consider my next words carefully. "What is 'this' exactly?"

Dean moves closer to me, bringing my hand to his lips. "This, Delia, is me taking care of you. In every way."

"Why? I mean, don't you think it's a little weird?"

"Is it?" He tilts his head, looking at me. "There's nothing weird about me taking care of what's mine."

How much longer am I going to let him keep saying this stuff? At first, I thought it was just a sex thing…like pet names or something, but Dean sounds completely serious when he says it. It scares me and thrills me in equal amounts. "But I'm not yours."

Dean smirks, and my heart rate kicks up. "You are. And now I'm going to prove it to you."

He leans in, cups my chin in his hand, and kisses me. I'm utterly lost.

It's 3 PM. Dean had to leave just as things were starting to heat up between us again—an emergency call at the police station he couldn't ignore. Meanwhile, I have a single text from Brody I've been reading and re-reading for hours now.

Brody: Can we talk?

It's such a simple question. I could easily just tell him no and move on with my day. But I'm stuck. It would have been way easier if he just accused me of being a terrible person and hooking up with his dad, but no...he had to be all vague and hard to decipher. I want to let Brody down easy, but I'll be lying if I say he's the main thing on my mind.

It's hard to think of anything except Dean Dixon.

To keep busy, I start going through his kitchen, a plan in mind. I still have no idea what I'm doing or what is going on between the two of us, but there's nothing wrong with making the man a meal, is there?

Gosh, just thinking about him makes my cheeks heat and my core tingle. He talks to me like forever is on the table. Maybe…it is, but we've only known each other for a single day. He's all the things I didn't know I wanted—strong, steady, and hot as hell. His age doesn't bother me, and he has a real career.

What am I thinking? Nothing can come of this but maybe some physical stuff. It doesn't matter if it's all too easy to picture something more between me and Dean.

I move to open the freezer, but something attached to the face of it with a magnet catches my eye—a receipt from a local restaurant for a Thanksgiving meal catering order. Oh, that just won't do.

With a small, secret smile, I call the restaurant and cancel the order. My next order of business is to plop back down on the couch, go to my favorite grocery delivery app, and make a nice big order. Turkey and all the fixings, made from scratch by me of course. I'm going to blow Dean's mind tomorrow.

He comes home from work a few hours later, and I still haven't answered Brody's text. I've got the turkey in a brine bag in the refrigerator, and when Dean opens the front door, I'm in the process of cutting a ton of apples. I turn around to see him, knowing I'm going to have to explain myself, but stop in my tracks when I see Dean Dixon in his full Chief of Police uniform.

Holy. Shit. Now I know what people are talking about when they gush over a man in uniform.

"Um," I say, feeling a bit like a deer in headlights. "Hi."

"Hello, princess." He closes the door behind him and advances, taking off his hat and tossing it on the counter. "What's going on here?"

"I...uh...well...I figured we could have a Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. You know, just the two of us."

His eyebrows shoot up nearly to his hairline "You're cooking? I already made an order–"

"Yes. I canceled it." When he looks skeptical, I wrinkle my nose. "Stop with that face. I know what I'm doing. Really well, actually. I went to culinary school, remember?"

"I'm sure you're very talented." He crosses his arms looking me over, taking in my high, messy bun and my comfortable cooking clothes. "How much longer till you're done with whatever you're doing?"

I find myself fixated on his body in that tight uniform again, looking over every inch of him and barely hearing his question. I take in Dean from the feet up and ogle his thick, muscled legs.

"Delia, did you hear me?"

"Oh! Um, yes. I'm just making some fall sangria."

He steps up close, putting his hands on either side of me and pressing me against the counter. He dips his head down to kiss my neck.

"Delia," he murmurs, nipping at the sensitive skin under my ear. "Stop ignoring my question."

"I...huh?"

"I asked how much longer you're going to be."

How does he expect me to concentrate when his mouth is doing that? I tilt my head and let him continue. "Well, the sangria doesn't take too long. It's basically done. Why?"

"Just wondering when I will get you all to myself." He pulls back, and there's that mouth twitch again. "You seem surprised to see me in my work gear."

Flustered, I gesture at his entire body with my hands. "I wasn't expecting it, no. You look...nice."

"Nice?" He prods, hands drifting to my hips. At this rate, these apples are never going to get cut.

"Really nice. It's hot, actually. Do you like wearing it?"

He huffs a small laugh. "Not really. I only wear the uniform when I'm doing PR or making appearances, and I hate all of that. I'm more of a hands-on kind of guy."

"Yeah?" Dean's hands are moving around to my back, and down to cup my ass. "I can see that."

He leans in and kisses me, his lips brushing against mine."Mmm. Speaking of being hands-on, let me help you."

Now I'm confused, pulling back and blinking. "Help me?"

"Yeah, help. With the cooking."

"Oh, no, it's okay. I'm all set. You can go change and relax."

"Delia," he rumbles. "Stop trying to get out of letting me help."

"I wasn't..."

His next kiss is quick, followed by a squeeze of my ass before he pulls back and starts to undo his button-down uniform shirt, leaving him in only the police t-shirt from earlier. "Let's try this again with no arguing. What's next on the agenda?"

"Hmm." I glance down at the recipe I've written down. "I guess we'll prepare the stuffing next so I can just throw it in the oven tomorrow."

His smile is genuine this time, and I'm shaken by how much it changes his entire face. God, he's gorgeous. "Then let's do it."

I blink. "Seriously?"

"Yes. Now finish with your apples and let's go."

I can't help it. I laugh, and then Dean kisses me again, and I forget everything.

It turns out, Dean is a really great sous chef. He listens, follows instructions, and doesn't touch my ingredients without permission. It surprises me. Dean seems like the sort of man who's in control of everything in his life. But it all starts to make sense when I realize he's helping not because he's trying to be helpful, but because he wants to be near me.

The thought makes me giddy, and the whole time we're cooking together, I'm fighting the urge to smile like a maniac.

"I didn't expect you to be so good in the kitchen," I comment as I stir the stuffing.

He looks over his shoulder at me where he's dumping the apples into a large carafe. "Yeah? What did you expect?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I just thought you'd be a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy. I mean, no offense, but I get the feeling you're sort of set in your ways."

He grunts but doesn't respond. Dean still hasn't changed out of the bottom half of his uniform, but his short sleeves let me see the flexing of his corded forearms as he works.

With Dean, the prep—my least favorite part of cooking—is fun. Before I know it, we're done. The sangria is chilling, and everything that could be done early is finished, ready to be popped into the oven tomorrow for Thanksgiving.

"Okay," I say, putting my hands on my hips. "Time to clean up. Then, I think a movie sounds perfect."

"Mmhmm." Dean moves behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist and his head dipping down to press a soft kiss to the exposed skin of my shoulder. "Do you have any requests?"

"I thought maybe you could choose." My eyes flutter shut at his attention.

"How thoughtful of you." He moves his lips over my skin, sucking softly, and I can't help but tilt my head, letting him have better access. When he speaks, I can feel his lips moving against my skin. "Actually, I want to take you out. You don't deserve to be cooped up in this house."

Now I'm paying attention again."What? Really?"

I turn around to face him, and he kisses me softly, pulling me in. "I want to take you on a date, Delia. A real date. No sneaking around. Let me take you out."

It sounds wonderful, but there's still the shadow of something hanging over the idea. "Are you sure? Brody..."

He presses a finger against my lips to shush me. Okay…message received. No talk about his son. "I'm not talking about Brody. Let me take you on a real date. I know the perfect place. We can talk about...all of this. And maybe make plans for tomorrow."

I can hear in his voice that this means something to him. In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess. "A real date, huh? Well, you'll have to change out of your uniform."

He grins, a flash of white teeth, and my stomach flips. Oh, I'll do just about anything to see that smile more often. I blow a stray strand of hair out of my face and relent. "Fine. Go get dressed, and I'll get ready, and we'll go out."

"You act like you had a choice, princess." He chuckles, carrying dishes to the sink.

I stick my tongue out at him, and he growls, reaching out to grip my hips and pull me closer.

"You better watch it, princess. I have a feeling your punishment is going to come sooner rather than later."

I wiggle out of his grip, blowing him a kiss as I go. "Promises, promises."

"I mean it, Delia. I want you, and I'm going to have you. Every inch of you."

I bite my lip. "Yeah, well. We'll see about that."

"Now, go get dressed. I'm going to take a quick shower, and then we'll leave."

He gives me a gentle slap on the butt, and I yelp but move towards the bedroom. Dean might be able to take charge, and he may even have me. But if I'm going to continue with this unconventional flirtation, there's something I need to do first.

Once I'm alone in the guest room, I pull out my phone and compose a text to Brody.

Delia: There's nothing to talk about. I want to break up, just like I told you before. I'll find my own way back to Providence on Sunday.

Brody: No. We need to talk. I have a lot to say.

Delia: No. You're the one that chose to ghost me, not the other way around. You left me, and now I'm leaving you.

Brody: This is insane. Are you okay?

Delia: Yes. I'm great. In fact, I'm happier than I've ever been.

Brody: Happy. Sure. So what you're saying is you've met someone.

Delia: I don't need to explain anything to you.

Brody: Just be for real right now. Are you messing around with my dad?

I break out in a cold sweat.

Brody: That's fucked up. You're such a terrible person.

I stare at the text, feeling numb. Is this really happening? Am I a terrible person?

Delia: I don't care if you think I'm terrible. We're not together anymore, and you can't stop me from seeing whoever I want.

Brody: So you are hooking up with my dad.

Delia: It's none of your business.

Brody: Of course it is. You're supposed to be my girlfriend.

Delia: Not anymore. We're done, remember?

Brody: Whatever. You can have him. Just don't pretend you didn't start this.

I roll my eyes.

Delia: Sure, Brody. Enjoy the rest of your Thanksgiving. I have somewhere to be.

I don't wait for him to answer.

After Dean takes a quick shower, we head out. It's cold and dark, but I can still see the trees lining the street and the way the moon shines above us. My heart is still racing, and I'm a little shaken after texting Brody.

I didn't pack a lot of things to wear, but Dean insisted there was no reason to dress up for this outing. He's wearing a flannel and well-worn jeans, so I'm confident my knit sweater will be perfectly fine.

We take the cruiser this time—my request since I put my hair up—and Dean refuses to tell me where we're going. He'll only answer in grunts and shrugs, which annoys the hell out of me, but I guess this is just part of his personality.

To my surprise, we don't end up in the parking lot of some restaurant. Instead, it looks like a small farmstead, and there is just a smattering of cars in a grass field. He comes around to open the door for me and hands me a fleece-lined jacket.

"We'll be out here a while. I don't want you freezing to death," he says, waiting patiently until I relent and put the enormous jacket on. It goes down past my wrists and nearly to my knees.

"Now will you tell me what's going on?" I huff, and his mouth pulls up a bit.

"Nature hike."

My mouth falls open. "In the dark?"

He nods once. "There are some lights. Supposed to be pretty romantic. I heard a buddy talking about it at work. Come on."

With this wildly sparse description of our outing, I throw caution to the wind and take his hand. We stop inside the barn first, where he insists on buying us both an enormous cup of spiced apple cider at the snack stand. Then we go out back, where the only light is the stars and the moon. There's the faint sound of cows mooing in the distance and the scent that is undeniably farm, but soon enough, our path curves left and into the forest that lines the property.

There's a faint glow I can see when we're still at a distance, but as we get closer, I see what it really is—the nature trail lined with carved pumpkins, all with a white-lit candle inside. There must be almost a hundred of them winding through the wooded path.

"Dean," I gasp, looking at him. "This is...perfect."

He squeezes my hand. Then, as if by magic, the two of us begin to walk the trail. We don't rush, and it feels a little like time slows down.

"I've never seen anything like this," I marvel, stopping to look at some of the intricately carved gourds. These aren't just jack-o-lanterns but works of art.

"Neither did I. But then again, I'm not usually out taking romantic hikes by myself, so I wasn't really looking."

I lean my head on his shoulder as we stroll. "You aren't the sort of man to do romantic, are you?"

"No." Dean pauses, rethinking. "Until now."

I bump him with my arm as we walk "And what makes me so special?"

His answer seems easy like he doesn't even have to think about it. "Because you're mine."

I go quiet, processing what he says and trying to come to terms with how hot and flustered it makes me.

I don't know how to respond. How do I even begin to address that?

Instead, I take a sip of the cider and let the silence settle over us. It's not uncomfortable exactly. Just full. Full of things neither of us are ready to say.

We're halfway through the pumpkin-lined trail and the silence has started to get the better of me. Dean and I walk hand in hand, but I can't stop thinking about his words.

I'm his.

What does that even mean? And more importantly, is it something I want?

"Stop," he rumbles, squeezing my hand. "Quit thinking so much. Just enjoy this."

I take a deep breath and let myself fall into the moment.

"That's it." His voice is warm, and his words are spoken low but close to my ear. He puts his hands on my shoulders and guides me to the bench on the side of the path, urging me to sit. Once I do, he sits next to me, putting his arm around my shoulders. I snuggle in close.

"What are we doing?" I ask. "What are we doing, Dean?"

He doesn't respond right away, just looks up at the stars, and then takes my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. "Right now, I'm kissing your hand." He takes the cider from me and places it on the ground next to his. "And now, your mouth."

I moan as I sink into the kiss, letting all the difficult thoughts fade away with the stroke of his tongue against mine. It's chilly out, but he's heating me up, biting at my bottom lip and moving from my mouth to my jaw.

"Now, your neck." He does just that. Meanwhile, his hand drifts up my jacket and beneath my shirt.

Oh god. It feels so good, my skin burning where he touches me. I'm nearly on his lap as his hand plumps my breasts, finding my nipples with pinpoint accuracy and circling them slowly while he kisses me. The sensation sends pleasure straight to my core, and I moan into his mouth.

Dean's other hand grazes the fly of my jeans, but just as he starts to undo them, we hear the crunch of leaves underfoot.

Another couple is rounding the bend in the trail, and I scramble off Dean, sitting on the bench once more and straightening my clothes. Oh my god, we're acting like horny teenagers and almost got caught!

I look down at the ground, planning on ignoring the other couple until they're out of sight, but the man stutters to a stop in front of us.

"Chief?"

Dean tenses and rises to his feet, holding out his hand for the other man to shake it. "Trevor. Nice to see you, Officer." Trevor's eyes flick down to me, and Dean quickly adds, "This is Delia."

The other man, who must be Trevor, looks surprised, and then shocked. His date is none the wiser, but a chill is running down my spine at the way the man is looking at me. Like he knows me.

Maybe he does in a roundabout sort of way. It's a small town after all.

"Like Brody's Delia?" Trevor asks, immediately confirming my suspicions. My stomach drops to my feet and my cheeks heat.

"No." Dean's voice is low and gives me no room for argument. "Just Delia. My date."

Still confused, Trevor looks between the two of us while his date tugs on his sleeve, urging him to continue the hike. "Oh, um. Well…cool. I guess I'll see you at work, Chief?"

"Guess so," Dean grumbles and watches Trevor like a hawk as the other couple finally departs.

Shaken, I stand, grabbing his arm and leaning into him heavily. "Who was that?"

"A patrol officer of mine. He used to be Brody's friend back in the day." Dean frowns, thinking. "I wonder if that is who my son has been hanging out with the last few days."

So many negative emotions are coursing through me, and my thoughts are running out of control. "Oh no. What if he tells Brody we were making out here and Brody–"

Dean presses a finger to my lips again. "Delia, shh. Listen to me. Forget about him. We're going to go back home, pick up some dinner, and finish that movie. Maybe enjoy some of that sangria, and then...see where things go. Don't give that asshole a single thought."

"What do you mean?" I insist. "He works for you, how can you just pretend this isn't an issue?"

"Because it's not," Dean says with an air of finality. "I'm the chief. They answer to me. Which means he'll keep his mouth shut if he knows what's good for him."

I inhale slowly, letting the breath out in small increments until my heart rate finally evens out. "Okay…okay. I trust you."

He gifts me with another rare smile, the wind tousling his salt-and-pepper hair. When he kisses me, his beard is pleasantly scratchy. "Good girl. We're going to have fun tonight, aren't we?"

"W-what do you mean?" My head is still spinning from the adrenaline rush, but the cool fall air is starting to bring me back to earth.

His touch when he strokes his hand down my face is heated. "I think you know, princess."

"No, I don't."

"You do. You just don't know how to say it yet."

I press my lips together, looking down. Dean tilts my head so I'm looking at him. "But that's okay. Because we've got time. Soon enough, you'll have no problem telling me exactly what you want from me. But let's start simple—tell me to kiss you."

"Dean..."

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

I bite my lip and nod, letting him lean in. His mouth finds mine, and it's not a slow, sweet kiss. It's a demanding one. Dean kisses me like a man starved, and I can feel his hunger, his desire. It's a kiss that demands reciprocation, and I give it, matching him. I lean in and bite his bottom lip, and he groans, kissing me deeper.

I break the kiss first, and Dean doesn't push. He waits and the look on his face is patient but intense.

"You remember what I told you..." I look away, heart pounding as I pull at the sleeves of my too-big coat. "About being a virgin..."

"Yeah." He chuckles, and there's an edge of darkness to it that leaves me shivering. "Trust me, that's not something I'm about to forget—you being untouched and all mine."

"You're a lot...you're a lot to take on a first date. And the whole thing with Brody and you being his dad..."

"Hey." He grips my chin and makes me meet his eyes. "We've already been over this. The only thing I want from Brody is his absence. I don't want his involvement in my life or yours if you want the truth. He doesn't deserve anything from either of us."

"But—"

"Delia." His voice is strained. "For fuck's sake, don't mention him again. Please." He rakes a hand through his hair. "You want to finish the hike? We can talk more in the car."

I swallow. "Okay."

He stands, offering his hand, and I take it, letting him pull me up. "Let's go."

Dean walks us back through the pumpkins and then out the back way. He doesn't speak until we're back in the cruiser and we're on the main road.

"Delia." He sighs, turning to me. "I don't know how many ways I can say this, but I want you. I want you the way a man wants his woman. And I'm going to have you…if you let me."

"I..." I fiddle with the hem of my jacket. "Dean, I…"

"It's okay," he assures me. "Don't answer that right now. Think about it."

My heart is in my throat at the thought of him touching me again, stripping me bare…all I can do is nod.

He pulls the car up to the house, and I get out, following him inside. When we're standing inside, I reach for him, my body moving without thought. I move forward, gripping the lapels of his coat and bringing him in for a kiss.

"Make me forget him," I whisper against his lips. "Take my mind off everything."

"So demanding, princess." Dean's gaze heats as he picks me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. It's so easy, so natural to do. We fit together like two puzzle pieces.

"You're going to learn your place," he murmurs. He's kissing me again, and I can't think straight. "But tonight, I'm going to be real gentle, princess. And I'm going to make it so good."

I don't tell him all the things inside my head—that it's already so good I can barely take it, or that I'm both more nervous and more aroused than I've ever been. All the dirty words falling from my lips shock me, but with Dean, they come so easily.

He takes my chin in his hand, tilting my head just so and locking his mouth on mine. Dean's tongue sweeps in, exploring me until I'm gasping. In one fluid movement, he takes me into his arms and starts to walk back toward the bedroom.

Not the guest bedroom either. His bedroom.

Dean kicks the door open, and I get my first good look at his room. Last time I was here, I was frozen in the doorway, looking at him with a towel around his hips. The room might have been totally empty for how much attention I paid to it. Now I take in the dark colors of his bedding and walls and the glow of the lamp on the bedside table.

He lays me down on the bed, and I reach out, touching his cheek and his shoulder.

"I've never felt like this," I confess.

Dean leans over, putting his hands on either side of me so he can come in closer. "That's good, princess."

"You're going to take care of me, right?" I don't know why I'm saying all these things, asking all these questions, except that maybe I want to hear his deep, rough voice.

"I will always take care of you."

He strips me slowly, his hands making quick work of my fleece jacket and sweater and taking his sweet time pushing my jeans down.

"Delia," he says, his voice rough. "You're fucking gorgeous. Do you know that?"

"Uh-huh." I've lost the ability to find real words, lust burning all of my thoughts out of my brain before they can form. I'm so full of need that it feels like my body is too small for all of it, and I squirm against him, desperate for relief.

"I can't wait to feel your pussy on my mouth," he grits out. "I can't wait to feel your nipples on my tongue. I'm going to suck on you, princess. And then I'm going to taste you from the source."

My body arches as he removes my clothes, tossing them to the side. I'm naked and exposed, and Dean is still fully clothed.

"God," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss my breast. "I could look at you forever."

"Dean," I pant, reaching for him.

"Shh." He runs a hand up and down my side. "Don't worry, baby. Daddy's got you. Let me love you."

He kisses me, and it's soft and sweet. Like he's taking his time to make it good. Just like he promised.

"Spread your legs for me, princess. Open your legs and show me that pretty little cunt. I'm going to taste you before I fuck you."

His words make my pussy clench, and I feel how wet I'm getting. I didn't even know I could be this wet, this needy. It makes the words that come from my lips so deliciously filthy. "Please, Daddy."

He presses a soft kiss to the inside of my knee. "Such a good girl."

Slowly, I spread my legs, giving him the access he's asking for. His eyes move down my body, and I feel completely exposed, completely bare. It's hot and dirty, and I like it way more than I should.

"Delia," he whispers, looking at my center. "Look at you. You're soaking wet. Is this all for me, princess? Have you been thinking about Daddy's mouth on you?"

"Yes," I gasp because it's true.

"Good girl."

Dean dips down, kissing me again. He sucks on my bottom lip, and then my tongue, and then, with a groan, he's moving down my body until he's between my legs, kissing my pussy and licking a hot, wet strip over my slit.

"Oh my god!"

I feel Dean chuckle, and he's back, looking up at me with a cocky smile. "Do you want to come, baby? Does your sweet little pussy want to come on Daddy's tongue?"

"Yes!" I grab handfuls of the sheet, head thrashing from side to side. I'm so warm, I'm burning up, the pleasure coming from his mouth and tongue white hot.

"You're not going to," he says, licking another line up my slit. "Not until I'm deep inside you and making you see stars. And not until I tell you you can."

I whimper, but he just goes back to working my pussy with his tongue, sucking my clit into his mouth.

"Dean!"

"Oh, princess. That's it. Let Daddy make you feel good."

I can't take it. His mouth is all over my pussy, and I can't think straight. The noises he's making, the way he's eating me, the way he's looking up at me like he's worshiping me...it's all too much.

"Daddy, please. Oh god..."

"You're so fucking beautiful, Delia," Dean growls, looking up at me as he rises. I want to scream when his mouth leaves my pussy, the lack of it almost heartbreaking.

"Come here," I beg. "Please."

"That's so cute how you think you can tell me what to do." He chuckles, jerking his shirt over his head. "Lucky for you, we both want the same thing. Now, sit up and undo my belt."

Swallowing hard, I rise to my knees and put my hands on his belt, just like he demands. My legs are shaking, but I can see the hard line of his cock in his jeans. Suddenly, I want to see it, to touch it, more than I've ever wanted anything. I make quick work of the belt, moving to the button and fly and finally pushing his pants down his thick, muscled legs.

Dean assists, stepping out of them and palming himself through his black briefs. God, he's so big. I don't know how in the hell I'm going to be able to fit that inside of me!

A thread of worry has me chewing my bottom lip, but Dean isn't in a waiting mood. "Touch me, Delia."

"But..."

"Hands on your knees, princess, and open wide."

I do as he asks, putting my hands on my knees, and spreading my legs so his big, heavy cock is right in front of my face.

"Touch it, Delia." When I do, he groans. "Suck on the tip, just a little."

I open my mouth, letting the fat head of his cock push past my lips. It's a weird feeling, having something in my mouth, and the size of him...it's daunting. But the way his face relaxes, his head tipping back and a deep groan rumbling from his chest makes me feel powerful. I'm taking care of him. Dean Dixon, my handsome, protective police chief. I'm touching his cock, and he's letting me because he likes it.

"Oh, fuck." My cheeks flush at his words. "So good, baby. Your mouth is so hot. You look so pretty taking my cock like a good girl."

My apex clenches, and I can feel my cream dripping out, running down my legs.

"That's it. Take it all in, just like that. Get your hands around the base. Good girl, stroke me. Just like that. Fucking perfect. Are you ready for me, Delia?"

I moan, and he pulls back. Am I ready? I'm coming apart with need, but I'm still unsure how he's going to manage to fuck me.

Dean reaches down and cups my chin in his hand. "You're going to have to talk to me, sweetheart. I can't read your mind."

How is it that I can suck his cock but just saying these words feels so hard? "Yes. I want you. I want you to..."

His grip on my chin tightens. "To what, baby?"

I'm throbbing, clenching down on an emptiness that I need filled more than I've ever needed anything. "I want you to fuck me, Daddy."

"What a good girl," Dead purrs. "But you have to be sure. Are you sure, princess?"

"Yes. Fuck me. Take me."

His thumb traces my bottom lip, and there is pure adoration in his eyes. Dean's words might be bossy, but there's something between us that softens him even if he doesn't want to admit it. "Scoot back, head on the pillows, and keep those pretty little legs spread for me."

I settle into the pillows and watch as he crawls onto the bed. My body quivers, and I'm sure my face is flushed. My fingers are shaking, but Dean reaches down and stills them, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

"Just relax, princess."

I nod, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

"That's better," he murmurs, settling in between my legs. "Keep breathing."

He rises above me, and Dean's cock is still rock hard. The tip glistens even in the dim light of the room. He strokes himself, looking down at me, and my eyes go wide. From this angle, it's even more obvious how huge he is. I'm freaking out internally, but there's such a look of desire and anticipation on his face that I desperately want to please him.

"It's gonna be a stretch, princess," he admits, stroking himself more.

"I-I know." My words come out shaking.

Dean leans down and kisses me. His mouth drifts from my lips to the curve of my jaw and down my neck. Meanwhile, his hands are stroking my body, pinching at my nipples and making my skin rise in goosebumps.

"Good girl," he whispers into the crook of my neck. "Just relax."

Dean takes his time, kissing and licking and caressing my skin until every bit of my focus is on the way he's making me feel—so warm and tingly. When one hand finally dips between my legs, his thumb brushing my clit, he shifts to line himself up at my entrance. I can feel the head of his cock parting my folds just so, the pressure already there.

"Take a deep breath," Dean orders, and I do. "That's a good girl. I'm going to fuck you now, Delia. I'm going to make you mine."

The tip of his cock enters me, and it feels huge. I gasp, and my nails dig into his biceps.

"Oh god," I pant, stomach clenching.

"Breathe, princess." His thumb continues to work my clit, the pleasure helping to block out the uncomfortable stretching feeling. "You can take me."

"Fuck," I whimper. "I don't know if I can. It's too big..."

"Look at me, Delia."

My eyes have been fluttering, but I force myself to focus on him and the dark, stormy gray of his eyes. A connection between us locks into place, energies merging, and a feeling of safety washes over me. I know he won't hurt me. I know he'll make it good. "Dean."

"Look at me," he growls. "Don't turn away. Not until I'm all the way in."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, meeting his gaze. "It's just…you're so big and I'm not..."

"I'm not going to hurt you. All I'm going to do is make you come."

I nod, trying to take slow, deep breaths. "Okay. Okay, I'm ready."

He eases into me, and my mouth opens but nothing comes out. There's pain, but it's dull and mixed with an intense pleasure that has my entire body tingling.

"Good girl," Dean growls. "Oh, princess. You feel so good. You're so fucking tight. I can't believe how good you feel."

I'm panting, and the pressure is building. It feels so good, but there's also that burning, stretching sensation. To my surprise, my body resists him for only a second, my inner walls stretching to accommodate his girth little by little. Maybe I really can take him.

"Fuck, you're tight." He's stretching me. It's hot, and it hurts but in the best way.

"God," I gasp and clench around him.

Dean lets out a groan and pushes in deeper. "Fuck, you're a perfect little fit."

My body trembles, and he thrusts again. I can't stop it anymore. A sharp cry of pleasure leaves my lips, and wetness seeps from me. My legs are trembling, the muscles in my core tightening, and every inch of my skin is on fire for this man. He slides his hands underneath me, gripping each of my ass cheeks and pulling me forward and onto his cock even more.

"Wrap your legs around me."

I'm more than happy to obey.

When Dean thrusts in again, the change in angle almost undoes me right here and now. The blunt head of his cock is pressing against a bundle of nerves deep in my channel, sending earth- shattering waves of pleasure through me. He starts to pick up the pace, fucking into me in long, deep strokes.

"Dean," I moan, arching my back and digging my fingers into his shoulders.

"Does it feel good, baby?" For the first time, there's a tightness to his words. I'm affecting him just as much as he is affecting me.

"Y-yes," I stutter, moaning and writhing beneath him. "So good."

And it's God's honest truth. Nothing, and I mean nothing, has ever felt as good as this. I've never been so connected to anyone, and this grumpy, gorgeous man is shaking the foundations of my world with every stroke of his cock into my body.

I know I'm going to come, harder than I've ever thought possible. What I don't know is if my mind will even be intact once it's done...because it already feels like the pleasure is making me lose it.

"I'm not gonna last much longer, Delia," he confesses, and this single moment of vulnerability has my inner walls fluttering around him. "But from what I'm feeling, you're not either."

I can't answer. The words get stuck in my throat, and I can feel my toes curling and the wave of an orgasm coming closer.

"Let go, baby," Dean whispers, kissing the corner of my lips. "Come for Daddy. Let me feel your pretty little pussy come."

It's an order. There's no hesitation in his voice, and that's what sends me over the edge. I cry out, a sharp, broken sound that's a mix of a moan and his name. Then, it's just bliss and the heat of his come filling me.

Dean collapses on top of me, breathing heavily, holding only some of his weight on his elbows. I don't care about the crushing, though. I love it—the feeling of his hot, hard body against mine.

Seconds pass as the aftershocks of my orgasm fire off inside me. It's quiet, and all I can hear is our heavy breaths and the rapid beating of my heart. It's pounding so hard, I can feel it everywhere.

"Delia," he says, breaking the silence.

"Hmm?" I'm still unable to speak.

He shifts his weight but doesn't pull out of me. Instead, he looks down at me and smiles. "You're so fucking beautiful." He traces my lips with his thumb. "So beautiful, and all mine."

His words hit a raw, exposed part of me, and tears sting the back of my eyes. I look away, embarrassed that I'm getting emotional.

"Hey." He cups my chin, turning my face to him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I sniffle and then laugh. "God, this is so embarrassing."

"Princess, why are you crying?"

"I don't know." I hiccup. "I just...nobody has ever talked to me the way you do or made me feel the way you do. Nobody has ever treated me the way you do, and I don't know what any of it means."

Dean sighs, rolling off me, and I panic. I'm scared I've ruined this.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin the mood," I ramble. "And we don't have to cuddle or anything if you don't want to. I just thought after that we could..."

Dean wraps an arm around me, pulling me against his side, and I trail off. Oh...okay. This is nice.

"I have no intention of letting you go." He nips the shell of my ear, molding his body around mine, my back against his chest. His words make it hard to breathe. This feels like something more than just a fuck. Something way, way more. And then he has to remind me of his real personality. "So I'm not going to. Because I make the rules, remember?"

"Dean," I breathe.

"What?"

I can't help but laugh. "You're such an asshole."

"Maybe, but I'm your asshole."

"Is that so?"

"I would never say something I don't mean." He traces a finger down the back of my neck, following the path with his lips. "I don't believe in lying. If someone can't handle the truth, that's their problem."

I snuggle back against him, my thoughts going all liquid and my muscles weak. I'm warm and content, but there's one more thing I have to say before I drift off. "You were right. You did make it good for me."

He hums in agreement. "Like I said, I don't lie. Get some rest, Delia. The night isn't over yet, and you're going to need your strength."

I open my mouth but no words come out. My body is already drifting, sleep coming on quickly.

The last thing I hear is him whispering, "You're mine now, princess."