Nothing More (24 page)

I can't stop laughing and my stomach hurts from it, but my leg doesn't.

Dakota's panic turns to amusement and her laughter is my favorite song.

I grab her shoulders and pull her down into my lap. Her hands wrap around my neck and she pulls me closer to kiss her.

Her mouth is softer than my touch, and not for the first time, I'm a fool for her as I trace her tongue with mine.

D
AKOTA'S HANDS SLIDE FROM MY
neck to my arms and she rubs them. Up and down she rubs, staying a few moments extra on my biceps.

I can't pretend that I'm not proud of my body. Especially after years of hating it. It makes me feel strong and sexy for the first time in my life, and I'm on cloud nine with her hands all over me.

“I've missed you so much.” Dakota's words are something between a cry and a moan, and they speak to me, to the man I am now, not just the boy I was when I met her.

“I've missed you more,” I promise her.

Dakota's brown eyes are nearly closed, so heavily lidded that I can barely make out their color. Except I already know the color; I memorized her eyes long ago. I've memorized every single inch of her from the birthmark on her left foot to the shade of her eyes. They're a soft brown with a flake of honey in the right one. She used to tell the kids at school that the light mark on her face was a scar from some fight she was in at her old school, but it wasn't true. She always told stories that made her sound as intimidating as possible, since she was nothing of the sort at home.

“I need you, Landon.” Dakota's voice is a desperate whisper as she kisses me.

Her hands are on my back now, pulling my shirt up. Her mouth traces the nape of my neck and her small hands work to take my shirt off. The floor is cold, but she's so damn hot and I feel nervous and excited and my mind is racing.

“Help me,” Dakota says, still tugging at my fabric. “I can't take it off like this,” she says, and licks at my neck.

I move quickly, hating that I have to pull away from her but beyond ready to take off all of my clothes—and hers.

I tug at the fabric and toss the WCU T-shirt across the room . . . only it catches on the lamp and stays there, making the light slightly red.

I'm so damn awkward that I can't even throw a T-shirt in a sexy way? Really?

I'm hoping she noticed that I wore red, her favorite color on me, and sweats, just like she always loved. I used to find it weird that she liked my lounging-about clothing so much, but given how I feel about her sports bra and yoga pants, I get it.

“Come here,” Dakota says, her voice like candy. Sweet and addicting.

I move back to her and wonder if we should go into my room. Is it weird to be sitting on the living room floor and taking off my clothes?

Dakota answers that question for me. She pulls her shirt over her head and somehow manages to bring her sports bra with it. Between her exposed breasts, her wet lips, and the way she's looking at me, I may just embarrass myself before we even begin.

I know that look. The one where her eyes are hooded and her mouth is slack. I've seen that look so many times, and here it is again.

She's desire wrapped in sugar and I need to taste her.

I move to her, taking one soft breast in my hand and the other into my mouth. Her nipples are hard pebbles under my tongue, and hell, I've missed her body.

She's moaning now and I'm growing harder by the second. I've missed her, I've needed her. Dakota is moaning as she pushes her body into me, rising to her knees so I have better access to her. My hand moves from her breast down her stomach, and my fingers find her pussy, soaked and throbbing. I use my index finger to draw small circles over her wetness.

I know how crazy that drives her.

Dakota's body has always been so responsive to my touch. She's usually dripping for me, so this comes as no surprise. What does kind of amaze me is that I'm thinking clearly while touching her. With my mouth sucking at her nipples and my finger drawing small circles over her swollen clit, I'm aware of every single thing. I'm aware of her hair pulled over her shoulder, her hand tugging at my hair as she gasps, “More, please, more.”

I'm not used to being so present when I'm touching her. I was always so lost in the sensation that I could barely form a thought.

I use the tip of my tongue to trace the outline of her taut nipples and Dakota yanks her body away from me.

I pull back, worried that I did something wrong.

She lies back a little and tugs at her tight pants, yanking them down her legs, letting me know that everything's more than fine. When I look down at her exposed body, she's not wearing panties.

Jesus freaking Christ, she's not wearing panties and she's literally glistening. She's so wet that she's probably going to leave a puddle on my floor, and I caused that.

Knowing that feels pretty damn good.

“Make love to me, Landon.”

It's not a request, I know this. I know her.

She lies on her back and I suddenly remember when she said our sex life was “boring” and my cheeks flush in embarrassment.

Boring, huh?

Dakota is completely naked and my door is locked, and she's waiting for me to climb on top of her and probably expects we'll have normal, “boring” sex like we had in the past.

Only to me, it wasn't even close to boring.

Still, I'm going to show her that I'm not boring at all. I have a few tricks up my sleeve.

I've watched enough porn that I'm practically an expert.

Though if Dakota knew I watched porn, she would probably be pissed. She broke up with me once when she found a
Playboy
magazine under my mattress. Man, these teenage boys nowadays don't know how easy they have it, having porn on their phones and not even needing to worry about their mom finding it when she cleans their room.

Okay, I'm getting distracted.

Back to being all adventurous and sexy and stuff.

“Stay still,” I tell her, and she looks up at me.

She nods, but she looks confused as I take my sweats and boxers off. I don't try to throw them. I just lay them next to us and act as if I'm continuing on in my plan.

Except I don't have one.

I want to blow her mind.

I want her to remember me and never forget me and want me and need me all in one second of my touch.

It's a lot to pull off, but I'm going to amaze—

“Are you okay?” she asks, impatience clear in her tone.

I nod and crawl to her, naked and hard and nervous. My hands touch her thighs and she quivers as I slowly trace the tips of my fingertips over her soft skin. Goose bumps rise on her brown skin and she's so beautiful, it's like she's the sun burning through me.

I gently touch both of her knees and spread her thighs. She moves like she's going to sit up, but I push my hand out, willing her to stop.

“Let me try something.”

I move back and lower my mouth to her body. Her skin tastes like salt and I'm so hard that it hurts.

I kiss her skin, from her navel to her perky breasts and back down again. She trembles beneath me, her breath so heavy that it makes me shake with desire. I need to be patient, to show her that I can please her, not be “boring” . . .

My mouth travels lower and I forge a trail of gentle kisses down her body. To her hipbones and down between her thighs. She gasps as the tip of my tongue meets her clit. My cock is throbbing and my palms are probably sweating.

Am I any good at this?

I struggle to push all doubts from my mind and flatten my tongue over her. She moans my name when I lap around, licking at her wetness and sucking her swollen bud between my lips. Her fingers claw at my shoulders and she says my name again and again. I must be doing something right. Her legs tighten and I move my tongue faster, then slower, savoring her sweetness with my mouth.

When her legs tighten around my neck, I bring one hand up to her breasts and move the other down between her legs. Slowly, I tease her entrance with my finger, and she groans, compliant and needy, and I feel like a damn king.

“I can't wait anymore.” She pulls at my hair, then my shoulders, and I take one more lick and raise my body to cover hers.

“Please,” she begs, and I line the tip of my cock between her thighs and she's panting and I can't wait to be inside of her. I try to kiss her but she moves her head, pushing her neck to my mouth.

I suck on her skin, just enough to make her crazy, but not enough to leave a mark.

I grab myself and push at her entrance while I grab her ass . . . but nothing happens.

I reach back between my own legs and grip my cock in my hand and shrink back.

Shrink
is the right word . . .
Why am I not hard?

Is this some sick joke the universe is playing on me?

I move my hand up and back down again, taking another look at Dakota's sexy body. The way her curly hair is a wild frame around the work of art that is her beautiful face, her full lips. I take in the way her breasts rest on her chest, small nipples still hard.

What the hell is wrong with me? She's so sexy, so ready, and I'm soft?

I keep touching myself, praying that I can get hard. This has never happened to me before.

Why, oh why, is this happening now?

“What's wrong?” Dakota asks, catching on to my unease.

I shake my head and curse at my traitorous body. “Nothing, I'm just . . . I'm having difficulties.”

I hate to admit it and the embarrassment I feel right now is like nothing I've ever felt before, but I'm not really in a position to lie. This problem is literally impossible to hide.

Yep, I've never been this embarrassed. Not even when my mom caught us having sex in my room when she was supposed to be at work all day. Not even when Josh Slackey pulled my pants down in front of the entire fifth-grade class.

Not even when I fell in the shower while masturbating and Nora ran in to help me.

And that last one was definitely up there on the embarrassment level.

“Difficulties?” Dakota questions.

She lifts herself up and I want to crawl into a hole. A dark, dark hole where no one can find me.

“Um, yeah” is all I can think to say.

“You can't get hard?” she guesses, and I really, really want to disappear.

I lift my hands up and stay on my knees.

“I was, just a moment ago. I don't know why—”

Dakota raises her hand into the air. “I don't get it. How can you not?”

Her eyes move to my cock, soft and hanging, and I feel about two inches tall.

“I'm sorry. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me.” I move my hand quickly and run it through my hair, some part of me hoping she'll follow its arc and stop looking down
there
. “Maybe we can try something else?”

Dakota nods. But she doesn't look anything like she did a few moments ago. Her eyes no longer look like a wild animal ready to devour me. She looks confused and embarrassed, and I hope she doesn't think this has anything to do with her or how she looks.

She's so beautiful, so sexy, and any man would be stupid not to think so. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me right now, but I do know it's not her fault.

“No . . . let's try
this
,” she says, and shifts, then lowers her body so her mouth is level with my cock.

She takes me in her mouth and I try to focus only on its warmth, the way her tongue feels tracing the head of my cock. The way I
want
this, really, really want this.

Still, nothing happens.

She stops after a few seconds and pulls back. Her face is stone as she looks at me, then away quickly.

“I'm so sorry,” I explain. “I don't know what the hell is wrong with me, but this is in no way your fault or anything to do with how I feel about you.”

Dakota looks away, and I can feel her shutting down inside.

“I can . . .” I don't know how to word what I'm trying to say. “I can finish you, you know, with my mouth?” I offer.

She whips her head around, and the look she shoots me is one with a sharp end. She's clearly not into that idea at all.

“I really am sorry,” I say again.

“Just stop talking. Please.” She stands up and gathers her clothing.

I know better than to follow her when she walks down the hallway and into the bathroom.

When the door slams, I think I can feel it reverberate through me, but I stay put.

I feel like an asshole and I am at a huge loss about how to fix this. I have no clue how to handle something like this, and I know Dakota enough to know that when she's shut down, she's shut down. That's it. I've embarrassed her and I didn't mean to. I would never, ever mean to.

I grab my pants from the floor and pull them on.

I can't believe after all this time thinking and fantasizing about her, I couldn't even get hard when it came time.

I look down at my uncooperative dick. “Way to go.”

I try to think . . .
Think, Landon!

I glare at the cats in hats on the wall lining the hallway, hoping they can help. The odd pictures offer no advice. Go figure.

I stand outside the bathroom door and try to think of something to say, some way to apologize that will make her understand how sorry I am for making her feel like she isn't enough for me.

She's more than enough, she's everything I've ever wanted.

She's the only person I've ever been with.

She was my first love, my only love.

“Dakota.” I use my knuckles to tap on the door.

She's silent. Seconds later, she turns the sink on and I wait.

Time seems to move incredibly slow when you've made a fool of yourself and someone else all in one quick motion. I knock again and she doesn't answer. The water is still running and it's been at least three minutes. I knock again.