Free Unexpected Angel by Sloan Johnson Page B

a bitch to him, telling him to stop trying to be kind to me, eventually he will listen and I will be sitting home alone once again.
    If I’m going to start living again, I can’t allow myself to constantly think about the past. Thinking about my wake-up call this morning is much more pleasant. The way Dylan’s jeans land on just right his hips and how I want to give them a quick tug to see if they will come off. If they do, will he be wearing anything underneath or will I be rewarded with my first look at his impressive length? Twice now, I have felt how I affect him but I have yet to actually see what I do to him.
    More than that, I want to feel what I do to him. I want to reach into his jeans and wrap my hand around him, slowing stroking from root to tip. I need to feel the contrast of the soft skin covering his hard as steel erection, and eventually the wetness as he leaks the first drops of his arousal.
    My hand glides over my breasts, massaging and tweaking my nipples into hard points. In my mind, it’s Dylan’s strong hands causing my body to heat and harden. The stream of water coming from the shower head slicks my body, allowing my hand to slide deeper, my fingers disappearing between my folds as I rub myself, thinking of what it would feel like if Dylan’s thick, strong fingers replaced my own. I increase the pressure, needing to feel the release my body has needed since soon after I first laid eyes on him. When I finally come, I bite my bottom lip hard, praying he’s not standing on the other side of the door as I moan his name.
    I lean against the wall of the shower while I try to steady my breathing. What is it about Dylan that has me thinking about and doing things I’ve never done before? The last time I had sex was nearly a year ago, and it’s been even longer since I had an orgasm. If thinking about Dylan makes me come this powerfully, I can only imagine what it will be like if we’re ever together.

    Football is life around Madison in the fall and tickets are nearly impossible to get. No way would any of the girls go to a game with me and Nick always said it was pointless to go to the game when you could watch it at home for free.
    I really wish there was a way to block that entire time of my life from memory. Maybe a hypnotist could wipe the slate clean. Okay, so I don’t really want that. I need to remember my pain and unhappiness in order to keep myself from falling for another man who will treat me like dirt.
    I look in the mirror after I am dressed, impressed with the outfit Dylan picked out. Somehow, he found a pair of jeans that fits my body like a glove, almost as if it were custom-made for me. How he managed that without me being there is a mystery. Having long legs and a long torso makes it difficult to find anything that fits without creeping down to show the top of my butt. The cardinal red t-shirt has the Wisconsin W in silver rhinestones, making it a bit dressier than the typical tee. But my favorite part of the outfit is the boots. They are trendy lace-up boots that come just past my ankle. And I’m not surprised to see they have no heel. After last night, I’m pretty sure Dylan would prefer I never slide my foot into anything other than flats from now on.
    The thought of Dylan having any pr eference on what I wear concerns me a bit. I keep reminding myself that it’s not up to him. It’s my body and my life and I’ll wear whatever I want. The fact that I have to remind myself that no man can tell me what to do worries me even more. If I am being rational, Dylan doesn’t strike me as the type of man to make unreasonable demands. He didn’t mention my boots until it was obvious I was in pain. He offered me the shirt off his back so I wouldn’t feel exposed in a room full of strangers. But that doesn’t change the fact that I am just getting to the point where I feel like I’m in control of my life for once and don’t want anyone messing with that.

    (Dylan)
    I shouldn’t