When Forever Changes

by Siobhan Davis

  Chapter Two

  “You look beautiful, baby,” Dylan says when I emerge from our bedroom, ready for a night of celebration. I’m wearing the black lace dress he loves and my black and gold strappy sandals. I’ve curled my hair into soft waves, and it hangs to my shoulders. I’ve kept my makeup minimal, knowing he prefers the more natural look. Plus, I’m too lazy to spend ages in front of the mirror, primping and preening. Au naturel suits me just fine.

  “And sexy as hell,” he adds, stalking toward me like a man on a mission.

  I back up, raising my palms out in front of me. “We don’t have time,” I protest when he flattens my back to the wall, bending down to kiss that sensitive spot under my ear.

  “I’ll be quick,” he murmurs, pressing a trail of hot kisses along my neck while his hand slides up the inside of my thigh.

  “You’re insatiable lately.” We’ve had a healthy sex life since we popped one another’s cherry when we were seventeen, but Dylan has been acting like a sex-obsessed addict the last month, and he can hardly keep his hands to himself.

  Not that I’m in any way complaining, you understand.

  Tilting my head back, I readily grant him more access to my neck.

  “You turn me on so much, Gabby. It’s like the longer we’re together, the more I want you.”

  For a geeky tech nerd, he sure is a diehard romantic with a special affinity for words. I cup his smooth cheeks, staring into his clear hazel eyes. “I love you, Dylan. More with every passing day.”

  His lips meld to mine, and I angle my head, kissing him deeper as an ache starts throbbing down below. Dylan shoves my dress up to my waist and cups me through my panties. “I love you, Dimples, and you’re mine. All mine. Now and forever.”

  I don’t need any convincing.

  For the longest time, I’ve known I was his. Only ever his.

  Sliding my panties aside, he slips two fingers inside me, curling and twisting them at the right angle to hit the perfect spot. My hands fist in his messy brown hair as he drops to his knees, tugging my panties down my legs and burying his face in the apex of my thighs. Dylan could ask me to agree to anything while he’s eating me out, and I’d be powerless to resist. He knows exactly how to work me into a quivering mess, and I love how enthusiastic he is.

  I spread my legs wider, moaning as he licks up and down my slit before suctioning on the swollen bundle of nerves and sucking hard. It takes me all of three minutes to shout out my release, his name tumbling from my lips like a prayer.

  Then he’s inside me, thrusting frantically, pushing all the way in and hitting every sensitive nerve ending. I love how amazing it feels when we’re joined like this. It’s as if he was created purely to drive me to distraction. To turn me crazy with lust and love.

  I loop one leg around his hip, and he digs his fingers into the flesh at my waist as he slams into me, harder and harder. Dragging my dress down one shoulder, he roughly yanks my bra down, lowering his head and pulling my taut nipple into his hot, wet mouth. I grip him tighter, my pussy clenching and unclenching around him as I sense him getting close. He grabs my bare ass, fondling my cheeks, while thrusting relentlessly into me, fucking me with everything he’s got.

  My breath is coming out in exaggerated spurts, and I’m barreling toward a second release. Then Dylan is roaring my name, spilling his hot cum deep inside me, and that sends me over the edge again.

  Our joint ragged breathing is the only sound in the room as we both come down from our high. With tenderness, Dylan releases my leg, carefully placing it on the ground. Then he grabs some tissues and cleans me up before snatching my lace thong off the floor and helping me back into it. I smooth my dress down, fixing my bra and the shoulder of my dress.

  Dylan leans down, softly pressing his mouth to mine. “Happy anniversary, Dimples.”

  I circle my arms around his neck, smiling at his childhood nickname for me. “Happy anniversary, Freckles.” I brush my fingers across the smattering of freckles along his nose and cheeks.

  Reaching behind, he pulls out a long black box from his back pocket. “For you.” He hands it to me, maintaining eye contact. “I hope you like it. I drove the sales clerk insane with my indecisiveness.”

  I quirk a brow, surprised. Dylan is one of the most decisive people I know. And a huge planner. I’m shocked he hadn’t already perused their website and picked out what he wanted before he visited the store. But he’s been busy with his robotics project lately and a little stressed and distracted.

  I peck his lips gently. “I will like it because you chose it for me, but you already gave me flowers and you’re taking me to dinner, so there really was no need to buy me a gift.”

  He kisses my cheek. “At least I know you’re not with me for my money,” he teases.

  “No. That’d be the earth-shattering sex.”

  “I knew you were just after me for my body.” He gestures at himself, and I can’t contain my grin. Dylan is lean and strong, and I love every inch of him, but he’s a long way from the ripped look a lot of guys on campus are sporting these days.

  But I wouldn’t change him for the world.

  I love absolutely everything about him.

  “And your brilliant mind. Don’t forget that too,” I purr, tapping a finger against his temple. And it’s true. Dylan’s intelligence and genius brain are the biggest turn-ons.

  “Don’t keep me in suspense.” He jerks his head at the box still lying unopened in my hand. “Open it.”

  When I pry the lid open, a shocked gasp leaks out of my mouth. “Jesus, Dylan. This is too much.” The glittering choker-style necklace sparkles and glistens under the full glare of the living room lights. I know the tiniest diamond can cost a fortune, so the sheer size of the diamonds and rubies in this necklace indicates exactly how expensive it is.

  “I’m good for it, and I wanted to spoil you.” He shoots me that infamous lopsided grin of his that always melts my heart and dampens my panties.

  Holding my hair to one side, I turn around as he moves to close it around my neck. “I know you are, but I don’t need extravagant gifts to prove you love me.”

  And we don’t do this. We agreed a long time ago not to let the money go to our heads.

  Dylan has been a multi-millionaire since he sold his licensing app to Microsoft when he was fifteen, but he’s never been extravagant with his wealth.

  Apart from purchasing this condo for us to live in while we study at UD, and moving his mom into a house in my parents’ neighborhood, he isn’t known for splashing the cash. He still drives his dad’s old truck, preferring to get it repaired every time it breaks down rather than purchasing a shiny, new SUV or flashy sports car. And I love him even more for it.

  So that’s why this has thrown me. But I don’t want to appear ungrateful either.

  He steers me to the long mirror in the hall, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind as I stare, slack-jawed, at my reflection in the mirror. Resting his chin on my shoulder, he captures my eyes in the mirror, and there’s no mistaking the love radiating from his gaze. “You look even more stunning now.” I run my fingers along the exquisite diamonds and rubies, speechless for once in my life. He places a gentle kiss on my cheek. “You deserve the world, Dimples, and I intend to give it to you.”

  I spin around in his embrace, resting my hands on his shoulders. “You already have, Dylan.” Tears glisten in my eyes as I stare into his beautiful, expressive face. “Every day with you is a blessing and a gift, and I love this life we share.”

  “To us.” Dylan clinks his glass against mine, and I sip the nonalcoholic champagne while gracing him with a wide smile.

  “To the future.” We toast again, before setting our glasses down and linking hands across the table, smiling at each other like lovesick fools. It’s been like this since we admitted our feelings at fifteen and took our friendship to a wh
ole new level.

  I have never so much as looked at another guy since that day.

  Dylan is all I see.

  All I’ll ever see.

  “Mom wants us to come for dinner on Sunday,” he says, just as the waitress brings our desserts. “We don’t have any plans, right?”

  I pause with my spoon halfway to my mouth, frowning a little. “We already promised my folks we’d drop by, remember? It’s exactly six months since Slate’s mom passed on Sunday, and they’re hosting a family dinner. They don’t want him to be alone on the day.”

  He rubs a spot between his brows. “Shit. Can’t believe I forgot that.”

  “It’s no biggie,” I say, diving into my chocolate fondant. “I’ll call Mom and tell her to add another place. Tell your mom to come over at three.”

  The frat house is crammed to the rafters when we arrive an hour later. Music thumps out of loudspeakers, and a lively crowd is dancing in the main living space. Laughter trickles in from the backyard, and we make our way through the kitchen and outside. Dylan grabs a couple of red cups on our way, and we sip the warm beer as we maneuver through the crowd, looking for familiar faces.

  A shrill whistle pierces the air, and I jerk my head in that direction. Ryan shoots a hand up, and I tug on Dylan’s arm, ushering him to the far end of the yard where my brother and Slater are holding court with a bunch of their buddies and a gaggle of fawning girls. Slater gets up from his chair the instant we arrive, offering it to me. When Dylan sinks into it, Slater glares at him. “It’s for Belle, douche.”

  Dylan grips my hips, pulling me down onto his lap. “And my woman is seated. Problem solved.” He pushes my hair aside and starts nibbling on my earlobe. Slater narrows his eyes but doesn’t retaliate.

  Over the years, Dylan and Slater have grown more antagonistic toward one another, especially recently, and I’ve no idea why. There’s only two years between us and Ryan and Slater, but when we were ten—when Dylan and I first met—the guys were twelve turning thirteen and they thought they were so mature. They made it their mission to tease the crap out of us any time they could, and they loved to pick on Dylan because his bestie was a girl and he had an unusual obsession with computers.

  Dylan was already a tech whiz by the time I met him, and he had an unnatural level of technical intelligence that was rare. It was no huge surprise when the app he developed came to the attention of the big tech giants and they entered a bidding war to acquire the rights.

  Dylan and I had only formally become boyfriend and girlfriend around the same time. Everyone embraced our relationship, having always known our friendship was headed in that direction—Slater being the exception. It’s not that he’s come out and said it, but I always get the impression he thinks Dylan isn’t good enough for me.

  Which is ridiculous, because, if anything, it’s the other way around.

  “You made it!” Myndi drops down onto the ground alongside us, crossing her legs and smiling up at me. Another couple of girls from our nursing group join us, and we chat casually while the boys trade insults behind us, laughing and joking loudly. Dylan is chatting with Ryan, running his hands through my hair while they talk.

  “I need to pee,” I say, climbing to my feet.

  “I’ll grab us some fresh drinks.” Dylan rises to join me. Taking my hand, he brings me back into the house. He pecks my lips and swats my butt as I leave him in the kitchen.

  There’s a long line for the bathroom, so I pull out my cell, checking social media while I wait. The line moves at a snail’s pace, and I cross my legs, urging my bursting bladder to hold tight for another few minutes. I lean against the wall beside one of the bedrooms while absently flicking through Instagram. The door to the bedroom is slightly ajar, and conversation trickles out to greet me.

  “I’m calling bullshit on that. Dylan Woods is completely devoted to his girlfriend, and everyone knows it,” a female says, piquing my interest. Pretending to be engrossed in my cell, I move a little closer to the door.

  “I’m telling the fucking truth,” another girl retorts, clearly pissed. “Why the hell would I make it up?”

  “Maybe because you’re still sour over the fact he’s continuously rejected your advances and you want to try and save face.”

  I’m used to girls hitting on my man. He’s a bit of a celebrity around these parts since the news broke of the teenage-prodigy-cum-multi-millionaire. The local paper also made a big deal when he turned down Yale to attend the University of Delaware. Most commentators speculated it was because I’d chosen to attend here, but they don’t know the real reason. I would’ve happily moved with Dylan to any part of the country, but he didn’t want to leave his Mom.

  Since his dad died in a car accident when Dylan was six, he’s been a rock for Heather and there’s no way he’ll ever leave her. Dylan’s dad was the love of Heather’s life, and she swears she’ll never marry again. She won’t even date. Dylan is the only man in her life, and she’s happy to keep it that way.

  If I didn’t love Heather like a second mother, I might feel resentful of their close bond, but that is the furthest from the truth.

  “You’re a complete bitch,” the girl snaps. “I’m not making this up.”

  “If you’re trying to cause issues in his relationship, it won’t work. He’s crazy about her, and you should leave them alone. You’re such a jealous bitch.”

  I have to smother the laugh waiting to rip free of my mouth. I don’t know who that girl is, but I already freaking love her.

  Girls hit on Dylan a lot, but I’m rarely jealous. We’ve been together a long time, and I trust him implicitly. I know he’d never do anything to jeopardize what we have, so this conversation is more amusing than anything.

  “Screw you, Ana. I know what he said, and he was clearly aroused when he said it. He couldn’t hide the bulge in his pants.”

  I roll my eyes, not even pretending that I’m not eavesdropping any more.

  “If he wanted to suck your tits so badly, why didn’t he?” the other girl challenges again. “I mean, you expect us to believe that Dylan fucking Woods, tech genius and the sweetest, most notoriously faithful guy on campus, said that to your face and then just walked away?” She scoffs. “I’m not buying it. You’re delusional.”

  I could seriously kiss that girl. And she’s voiced my sentiments exactly. Dylan is the last guy to say something crude to any girl. Yes, he has a bit of a dirty mouth in the bedroom, but that’s only with me.

  “The only reason he walked away is because it’s his anniversary today and he was bringing his girlfriend out to dinner. He took my number and said he’d call or text me.”

  All the blood suddenly leaches from my face, and my heart starts beating erratically in my chest. How the hell does she know that? The line moves again, and I push off the wall, part of me grateful I can no longer hear the rest of the conversation and another part of me desperate to see what she says next.

  I chew on the inside of my cheek as I contemplate all I overheard. Forcing a sudden bout of nausea aside, I think about this logically. She could have found out about our anniversary any number of ways. She could have overheard a conversation Dylan had with someone about today and our dinner plans. Hell, she could even have been eavesdropping when I told Myndi earlier this evening.

  That’s got to be it.

  Because there’s no way Dylan would ever say something so lewd to another girl, and there’s no way he would ever take another girl’s number.

  As I make my way back outside, I shove all thoughts of that horrid woman aside, determined she’s not going to ruin this special night.

  Chapter Three

  I wake on Saturday morning, a little achy, and my lips curl into a smile as I remember all the ways in which Dylan showed me how much he loved me last night. I got a full-body workout, and about four hours sleep, max, but I’m not complaining. Dylan is
getting more and more adventurous in bed, and I’m loving it. Not that it was ever underwhelming, but when you’ve been a couple for as long as we have, it can tend to slip into a familiar pattern. I’m not sure what’s brought it on, but I’m embracing this new sexier version of my man.

  “Rise and shine, Dimples,” the man of the moment says, entering our bedroom carrying a tray. He’s only wearing boxers, and his hair is all messy, but he looks totally gorgeous. And completely fuckable. He grins as he approaches the side of the bed. “You’ve got to stop looking at me like that, Dimples, or I won’t be able to restrain myself.”

  My eyes dart to his crotch of their own accord, and I spot the telltale tenting in his boxers. “Who says I want you to show restraint?” Arching a brow, I lick my lips and sit up, letting the covers pool at my waist, exposing my bare chest. He curses, gently placing the tray on my lap.

  “You need to eat food first, and then you can eat me.” He grins suggestively, and my lady parts swoon.

  “What a tempting proposition.” I lean forward, capturing his lips in a brief kiss. “Thank you for making me breakfast.”

  Taking my wrist, he raises it to his lips, placing a feather-soft kiss there. “It’s my pleasure. I love taking care of you.”

  “You do such a good job of it too.” And that’s the truth. Every weekend morning, Dylan is up early to cook me breakfast. On the nights where I have late classes or I’m at Lil Bob doing yoga or running the indoor track, he is always outside waiting to escort me home. When it rains, he leaves an umbrella by the door before he leaves. When my period hits, and I’m in agony, he administers pain pills, back and stomach massages, and readily goes to the pharmacy for tampons if I’ve run out, all while making sure I’m eating and getting plenty of fluids. On girls’ nights out, he insists on driving me there and back, and he never has any issue with dropping any of the other girls home either. There are countless other examples I could give to prove my point.