Nothing More

Chapter Twenty Four.

Songs for this chapter:

Friends, Lovers or Nothing- John Mayer

I Want You- Kings of Leon

Where You Belong- The Weeknd

...

Dakota's hands grip my arms and she rubs her hands over 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 now. Especially after years of hating it. It makes me feel strong and sexy for the first time in my life, and I'm on could 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 the color of them. Except I know the color, I've memorized it. I've memorized every single inch of her from the birthmark on her left foot to the exact shade of her eyes. They're a soft brown with a flake of honey in her right eye. She used to tell the kids at school that the light mark was a scar from some fight she was in at her old school, but it wasn't true. She wanted to be intimidating where she could be since she was nothing of the sorts 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 my back. 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 all of my clothes, and hers, off. 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 lounge clothing so much, but now that I've seen her in a sports bra and yoga pants, I get it.

"Come here," Dakota says, her voice is 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 my clothes off?

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, 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, raising to her knees so I have better access to her. My hand moves from her breast down to her panties 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.