Kate Hoffmann - The Mighty Quinns - Dermot-Dex

Dermot crawled off the bed and crossed the room, then pulled her into his arms. “I thought you’d never get here,” he whispered. He ran his fingers through her hair and drew her into a long, deep kiss. “I’ve missed you.”

“You just saw me a few hours ago,” Rachel said.

“That’s too long.” Dermot scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He gently set her down, then braced his hands on either side of her, pushing her back until he was stretched out above her.

They were so familiar with each other that she knew exactly how to pleasure him. She reached down and caressed him through the soft fabric of his boxers. He was already growing hard and he felt an ache deep inside him, an overwhelming need to bury himself in her warmth. It was a sensation that he’d come to crave, that moment when he was settled deep inside her and before he began to move.

At that moment, he felt as if they were connected in a way that could never be broken, that their bodies and souls had become one. Even though she’d soon be miles and miles away, he’d still be able recall how she felt, how she made him feel.

Desperate for that intimacy, he grabbed the hem of her nightgown and pulled it over her head, then tossed it on the floor. She was naked beneath, and when he reached out to caress her breast, Rachel arched against his touch, her breath escaping on a soft sigh.

He wanted to tease her slowly, bringing her to her release with his fingers and his tongue. But he felt a desperate need to possess her, to reassure himself nothing would ever change between them, and Dermot couldn’t deny himself. His mouth found hers again as he shoved the boxers down over his hips. Slowly, he slipped inside her, and when he could penetrate no deeper, he froze. The sensations racing through his body were almost more than he could handle.

Tonight, they’d find their release together and it would be perfect. And when it was over, he’d tell himself once again that even though he didn’t want to live without her, the feelings coursing through his body weren’t love at all, just a by-product of passion.

Rachel shifted, pressing her lips to his shoulder. She gently bit his arm, grazing her teeth over his skin. He’d taught her what he liked, that mixture of pleasure with a little pain, and she’d taken the lesson seriously.

She’d taught him that she believed foreplay was for people with more patience than she possessed.

“Are you going to move?” she whispered.

“Do you want me to move?”

“Mmm.” She wrapped her legs around his waist then rolled on top of him. “Or I could move. Let’s try that.”

She pushed up on her knees, then drove down on top of him. Dermot gasped. “Maybe we shouldn’t do that. This will be over before you realize it.”

“You’re not trying hard enough,” Rachel teased. “Just think of something else.”

“Sweetheart, when you’re naked in my arms, it’s impossible to think of anything else.”

Rachel smiled down at him, her pale hair falling in waves around her face. She bent close and kissed him, her tongue teasing at his. Though they’d probably made love fifty times, it was never the same. Each encounter revealed some new passion or hidden desire.

As she began to move again, Dermot grasped her hips, trying to slow her pace. But Rachel seemed determined to challenge his control with every stroke and every sigh, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

She closed her eyes and pressed her palms to his chest, her expression a mix of intensity and exhilaration. He wanted to touch her, to help her find her release, but when he tried, she brushed his hand away.

When he felt her pace increase, there was nothing more he could do to stave off his orgasm. Suddenly, Rachel stopped, her body arching against his, her fingers digging into his shoulders. And then she dissolved into shudders and spasms, her breath coming in gasps as she cried out.

The moment he felt her body convulse around him, Dermot knew he was lost. He grabbed her waist and rolled her beneath him. Reality fell out of focus and he let the waves wash over him, every nerve in his body firing, every tension releasing.

It was over so quickly. Dermot curled up beside her, his leg thrown across her hips. “How the hell am I supposed to get along without that?”

“There’s always self-gratification,” Rachel said. She looked over at him. “We could do it over the phone.”

“Or the computer.”

“I will miss you,” Rachel said, nuzzling her face into his shoulder.

“What will you miss the most?” Dermot asked.

She pushed up on her elbow, her hand smoothing over his chest. “I’m not sure I could name just one thing. It’s a lot of really strange things, things I just started noticing. Like when you eat cereal in the morning, you turn your bowl after each bite. And when you sleep, you just throw yourself all over the bed, like a giant rag doll. And the goats seem to like you a lot more than they like me.” Rachel curled back up beside him. “What about me? What will you miss the most?”

“This,” he said.

“Sex?”

“No,” Dermot replied. “This. Just you and me. All alone, listening to you talk. Knowing I can just pull you into my arms and kiss you or make love to you.”

Rachel rolled over and folded her arms across her chest. “I want you to leave your clothes here with me.”

“You want my clothes?”

She nodded. “They smell like you. I can sleep with them until I get used to you being gone. Kind of like a security blanket.” She reached over and grabbed his pillow and pulled it to her. “I think I’ll take this with me for now.”

“Where are you going?”

“I should go back to my own room. In case the boys get up and need something.”

“Stay,” he said. “We have so little time left. We’ll just get up before they do. I always wake up in time. I promise, they won’t even know you’re gone.”

The breeze freshened and a cool wind blew through the bedroom. Rachel reached down and pulled the old quilt up around them both. “Did you feel that?”

“Yeah.”

“Autumn is coming. We’ll breed the goats and watch them all get round and lazy. And then, starting sometime in February, they’ll all have babies.

Even though it’s the dead of winter, it’s my favorite time of the year.”

As his hands smoothed over her hips, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of need. Would there ever come a time when he didn’t want her? When they’d completely exhausted their desire for each other? The prospect of waking up alone, without her beside him, was almost unimaginable. Casual sex with any other woman would never satisfy him again.

Raking his fingers through his hair, Dermot closed his eyes. He felt her palm move to his face.

It should be easy to rationalize the end of their time together, Dermot mused. He’d walked away from any number of women with whom he’d shared longer relationships. But it wasn’t just the physical uncoupling that he found difficult. From the beginning he’d been attached to Rachel emotionally, and that bond had only strengthened over the past weeks.

Even now, the thought of letting her go caused an ache deep inside of him, an emptiness that couldn’t be filled, not even with another woman. The kind of pleasure that he’d experienced with Rachel had been unique and perfect and it would be impossible to find with anyone else.

Dermot closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. He would get over her and he’d learn to live without her. It was just a matter of letting go.

RACHEL SAT ON THE END of the bed, watching as Dermot packed the last of his clothes in his leather duffel. He remembered the day he’d stepped off the bus in Mapleton, wondering what he was supposed to do with himself for six weeks. And now, time had flown so quickly, it seemed like just yesterday that he’d met her outside the feed store.