Reading · Author Mahi Mistry

Katie

The drive to Dylan’s parents’ house had my stomach in knots. Meeting his parents as his girlfriend (that word made my chest tighten with warmth) felt nerve-wracking. They had wanted us to visit them for so long, and Dylan persuaded me with his puppy eyes.

I clutched the bouquet, and Dylan held a bottle of wine I had bought for them, even though he insisted not to be so formal about it.

But how could I not? They knew I was Amanda’s best-friend, and now I was dating their younger son.

I wanted to be at my best.

His mom hugged me so tight that I struggled to breathe, laughing that Dylan had “finally brought a girl home.” She had deep olive skin with bright green eyes, just like Dylan.

His dad grinned, shaking my hand firmly before joking, “We were starting to think maybe he was gay, you know, with how secretive he is about his love life.”

“Dad,” Dylan groaned, raking a hand down his face. I couldn’t stop grinning when his mom swatted at her husband’s arm.

“Don’t tease him too much. You’ll scare Katie away.”

It didn’t feel like that. Their warmth made me wonder if this was what it felt like to belong somewhere without any hesitation.

Dinner was cozy, full of embarrassing childhood stories about Dylan, each one making me snort and giggle. I liked watching him blush and glare at his parents, but what I loved most was the love and care in their eyes when they looked at him.

By the time dessert was finished, a thunderstorm rolled in. Rain lashed against the windows, and his mom declared it too dangerous to drive back because of the severe thunderstorm warning.

“Stay the night,” she demanded, leaving no room for us to argue.

When we went upstairs, she called after us in a playful voice, “Just leave the bedroom door open, okay?”

I nearly tripped on the last step, heat rushing to my face. Dylan groaned again. “Mom!”

His childhood room was exactly how I remembered. The beige walls held posters of anime and old movies with some corners frayed. A neat desk sat against the window with a few books scattered on the small bookshelf. But what caught my attention was the small photo frame on his dresser.

It was us.

I froze. The picture was old, taken at the beach when we were kids. Amanda crouched in the sand, finishing a castle. I stood nearby, arms tucked behind me, smiling a little too shyly at the camera, wearing a hat. And Dylan… he was so small. Shorter than me, with his hair messy, and staring at me instead of the lens.

“You kept this?” I whispered.

“Of course, I did.” Dylan peeked over my shoulder, his warm breath brushing against my neck as he wrapped his arms around me. “I always hated that I was shorter than you.”

“You were a baby,” I chuckled and looked at him. “You are still a baby.”

His brow arched. “Oh, yeah?”

Before I could react, he scooped me up as if I were light as a feather, making me shriek. He tossed me onto his queen-sized bed, following with a wolfish grin, crawling over me.

“I like being bigger than you,” he said, his voice husky.

“Me too.” I bit my lip, my fingers brushing over his shirt and feeling his abs.

Dylan blushed. “You know…I wanted to get taller and muscular so I could protect you. Take care of you.”

My heart stuttered. “That’s sweet.”

He hesitated, then continued, “You know I became a developer because of you?”

“What?” I blinked. “No way!”

“Yeah. I overheard you once.” He shrugged, his hand trailing over my cheek and down my neck. “You said your type was a smart man who’s rich.”

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “Dylan, I was a kid!”

He tugged my hands down, eyes glinting as he pulled off his shirt in one smooth motion. My throat went dry. His chest, his arms, his chiseled body was made of sin and… it was all mine.

“So was I,” he said, trailing his hands down my side. “But I took those words to heart. And here I am…”

My pulse thrummed with desire. He leaned down, his mouth capturing mine, tongue sliding in and dancing with mine. My body arched into him, brushing my breasts against his chest. His hands tugged at the waistband of my jeans when our kiss turned heated, passionate as the rain pattered on.

“Wait,” I whispered, pulling back, panting and blinking through the haze of lust. “Your parents are downstairs.”

He pouted, brushing his lips across my jaw. “But I need you.”

My protest melted when he slipped his hand beneath my panties, fingers teasing me with slow, tight circles. “Dylan—”

“I promise I’ll be quick,” he whispered, though we both knew it was a lie.

My back arched when his fingers curled inside me, drawing out soft gasps as I squirmed underneath him. He knew me and my body so well.

“Shh,” he whispered, lips curling into a filthy smirk. “If you’re loud, my parents will hear you.”

“Then stop teasing me—oh,” I moaned before clapping my hand over my mouth.

His chuckle rumbled against my skin. He tugged my jeans down along with my panties and positioned himself between my thighs. I held my breath when his length brushed against my slick heat. I trembled, gripping his shoulders and aching for him.

Then he thrust in slowly until I stretched around him, filling me completely to the hilt. Even after months of dating, I still wasn’t used to his impressive size. My cry was muffled against his palm as he covered my mouth, his other hand braced beside my head.

Every thrust, every roll of his hips sent sparks shooting through me, my nails digging into his skin as the sound of rain echoed around us between our gasping breaths. His dark eyes locked on mine, his gaze intense and soft.

He kissed me when I got too loud, swallowing my whimpers and moans. His pace was steady, putting just the correct pressure against my sensitive spot until pleasure ripped through me in waves.

I came, clinging to him, and two thrusts later he followed, groaning against my throat when he spilled into me. I moaned softly, feeling his warm spurt of seed fill me up.

He collapsed on top of me, his sweaty and trembling warm body a welcome embrace. I kissed his cheek when he nuzzled me. His weight was comforting.

Outside, the rain softened to a drizzle, and it was almost comical to do it in his childhood bedroom. Dylan pressed a lazy kiss to my temple before getting up to clean us up. I loved that he always took care of me after sex.

I kept my arms spread when he got naked and joined me on his tiny bed that was small for his height. But it made us squeeze in as he pulled the blanket over us, our feet tangling.

“I love the sound of rain,” I whispered, my voice drowsy.

“Me too,” he said, tucking me closer. His heartbeat thundered steadily beneath my ear. “Especially with you here.”

“Let’s drink hot chocolate in the morning,” he said, kissing my hair.

I smiled. “Hot chocolate sounds great.”