Don’t Fall For Me: Chapter 10

Novel Cover - Elle Fielding's Don't Fall For Me

Dylan

Claire looks so horrified by her own vocal relief that I can’t suppress a laugh. More than anything, I want to kiss her right now. I need to touch her, but if I do, we’ll end up having sex on the floor of the bar, and she deserves better than to have our first time together be on a bar floor – even if said floor has just been mopped.

“Come on,” I say to her.

She picks up her bag, slips on her jacket, and allows me to take her hand so I can tug her out the door with me.

I lock Brody’s behind us before pulling her along to where my bike is parked in the alley outside of the bar.

Claire comes to a stop, pulling on my hand. When I turn to look at her, she’s staring at my bike and biting her lip. “I, um, forgot this is your ride home,” she says.

“Relax. I’ll drive slowly.”

She shakes her head. “Do you know how many accidents people have on those things?”

“Claire, you said you wanted to have some fun. That’s why you came to me, remember?”

“Yes, but sleeping with you is a calculated risk.”

I pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her waist so she’s pressed against me. Immediately, I regret the impulse. She’s too close, smells too good. Without meaning to, I’m reliving that kiss, and I’m struggling to keep my eyes off her lips.

“You trust me, right?” I ask huskily.

“Yes.”

I hold her gaze. “Then trust me to show you some fun while I keep you safe, okay?”

She looks between the bike and me a couple of times before she finally consents. “Okay.”

“Good,” I say, before allowing myself the pleasure of dipping my head and kissing her.

It isn’t until my lips meet hers that I realise the absolute stupidity of my decision. Need explodes through me as I taste her once more. And this time there’s no bar between us to minimise the effect she has on me. I’ve wanted her forever. At least that’s how it feels. I run my hands up and down her back, feeling the indentation of her bra through both the material of her dress and jacket, before cupping her rear and bringing her into hard contact with my aching erection. And as her lips soften and part under mine, and she presses her hips against my hard-on, my need for her spins out of control.

One minute we’re standing there kissing and the next I have her up against the brick wall in the alley, my hands gripping her hips as her hands slip first under my leather jacket and then my white shirt. She strokes her hands over my chest and then my stomach, each touch and caress of her fingertips burning me, causing the muscles underneath my skin to flex and contract all at once.

She circles my tongue with her own while her thumbs circle my hard nipples, causing me to shiver as my cock jerks and twitches with excitement.

Blood rushes through my veins, chased by adrenaline. I’ve never felt anything like it. I’ve never felt so alive. Touching Claire, having her in my arms and kissing her is better than jumping out of an airplane and falling through the clouds. It’s better than having the earth rushing up to meet me. It’s better than driving my bike at ridiculously fast speeds. It’s the biggest rush I’ve ever experienced. If it feels this good just to be touched by her, how will it feel to be inside her?

I kiss her jaw, and when her head falls back, I skim my lips along the column of her neck all the way down to her collarbone before licking the dip between her breasts, tasting her perfume and skin and sweat in the most potent cocktail I’ve ever consumed.

“Dylan.”

She moves against me desperately as my mouth latches on to her breast through the thin material of her dress. I can feel the contour of her hardened peak under my tongue, but it isn’t enough to satisfy me. I pull her dress and the cup of her bra down so I can taste her. The sensation of her naked nipple rolling across my tongue just about undoes me, and when she moans and begs me to touch her, I’m only too eager to oblige.

She moans as my hands slide under her dress, immediately coming into contact with naked, heated flesh. My fingers slide through trimmed, damp curls to her slick sex. The blood in my cock throbs even harder as I find and slick my thumb over the hard little bundle of nerves between her legs. More than anything right now I wish we were in a bed so I could taste her.

I feel her tremble and shake as I circle it again and again, before rubbing my thumb backwards and forwards over it.

“Oh God,” she cries.

Her moans start to increase in intensity and I stop lavishing attention on her breasts so I can muffle her cries with my mouth. I kiss her hungrily as she clings to me, and only when I sense she’s on the edge do I slip one finger inside her. Her orgasm is instantaneous, and I have to fight my own impending climax as I hear and feel her pleasure overcome her.

It takes all of my control not to unzip and take her against the wall right there, especially since her hands are already reaching for the waistband of my pants. But when she comes down from the high of her orgasm and her blood returns to normal, she’ll probably realise she’s cold and uncomfortable. I practically grinded myself against her while she had her back against the bricks. Physically hurting her in any way is out of the question.

“Why are we stopping?” she asks breathlessly as I put a hand on hers, stopping her from undoing my belt.

“Because I want a bed for the next part,” I tell her.

“I’m okay.”

She’s more than okay. She’s perfect. She feels amazing. I only hope I’m not making the biggest mistake of my life doing this with Claire.

I’m still worried about her ability to keep things in perspective, but at the moment – and maybe for the first time ever – I’m also worried about my ability to do the same. I’ve been fantasizing about this for nine long years and reality has already far surpassed the fantasy.

No matter how good it could be between us, I can’t afford to forget I’m leaving the country soon. Nor can I afford to forget the fact that I have nothing to offer a woman who wants to settle down because putting down roots is the last thing I want to do. I’ll be happy roaming the earth and being a free agent for as long as I live.

Hopefully Claire truly understands that. Avoiding misunderstandings is crucial here. It’s the only way we’ll both walk away from this thing between us without regrets.

The clattering of glass bottles being poured into a recycling bin somewhere near the top of the alleyway brings me back to the present.

“But I want you,” she complains breathily.

“And I want you,” I say, taking her hand and torturing myself by running it over the hard proof of the fact. “But I don’t want to worry about being rushed or, worse, caught.”

Her soft little moan as she feels my hard flesh pulse against her hand almost undoes all my good intentions. “I’m taking you home,” I tell her determinedly.


A/N: Thanks for reading! 🙂 Please like, share or leave a comment if you enjoyed the chapter, or please just keep reading.


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