“What about if we shared utilities and groceries equally? I wouldn’t be writing checks for anything else anyway because the house is paid off. That way, you would be doing what you normally do at your apartment now. But we would live together.”
“How is that any different? You still paid for the house yourself. I’d feel like a guest.”
“But it is what it is right now. I mean we could rent an apartment together in the city, hypothetically, of course, but you know how much houses cost in L.A.”
“Yes, I do.” I pause. “I really do hate my apartment.”
Dylan clears his throat. “That’s the fantasy reason to move in together?”
“No. The fantasy reason is…”
I really love you.
We come to a red light, and I lean over to kiss him. “I just would want it to feel balanced.”
“I know.” He kisses me back.
“And this is all just talk, anyway,” I say, catching myself.
I put my foot down on the gas pedal harder.
“So what do you think?” I ask Dylan a while later. “About my car?”
“It’s good. It’s a little uh…jerkier than I’m used to,” he says as we struggle to get up a steep hill, and I have to press extra hard on the gas.
I smile over at him. Yes, my car definitely jerks as it switches gears, but we make it up the incline successfully.
“Bring back memories?” I say.
“Oh, yeah. My first car was way worse than this. So was my second one.” He pauses. “Can I drive it?”
“Sure.” I pull into a drugstore, and we switch seats.
Dylan grins as he puts the car into drive. “I’ll take us on a ride, baby.”
I laugh and buckle my seat belt.
Dylan drives until we reach the coast, and then he pulls over to a deserted beach and turns off the car.
“The whole place is empty,” he says, looking around the parking lot.
“It’s L.A. in February. No one goes to the beach this time of year.”
He returns his gaze to mine, and something in his expression makes my stomach clench.
“What?” I say nervously.
His hand goes to my hip. “I want to touch you like you touched me yesterday.”
My heart comes up into my throat.
“I want you to trust me that much, Jasalie.”
“I don’t know.”
Dylan leans me back against the door and reaches for the button on my jeans. “Why not?”
Giving is one thing. Receiving is another.
I try to breathe and collect myself.
But Dylan’s undone the button now. The ache between my legs is growing, and I’m losing my willpower.
“Dylan. I want to. I do. But I should tell you something first. It’s just that…”
He removes his hand from my body and sits back. “What is it?”
“No one’s ever done this with me before. Used their mouth.”
“Never?”
“No.”
Dylan’s eyes turn feral. “Get in the back.”
I raise my eyebrows. “What?”
“This is your first time. I want to do this right.”
Oh. God. My nipples are hard and painful as I crawl into the back seat of my tiny car.
Dylan opens the driver’s side, shuts it behind him, and then returns to the car through the back door.
His eyes hook mine as his hands immediately go to my waist. My jeans come off easily. So does my underwear. He spreads my thighs so he can kneel between them, and I exhale and allow myself to be vulnerable.
With his hands braced on my knees, he looks at me.
“So what do you imagine it will be like?”
“Going to the gynecologist,” I say immediately.
He fights a smile. “Seriously? Why?”
“How could having a tongue down there feel good? And lips?” I shudder. “It just sounds so…oh, Jesus, Dylan.”
His first tentative lick between my legs has me trembling.
“How’s that?” he asks as he looks up at me through half-lidded eyes. “Are you having doctor nightmares yet?”
“Do it again,” I demand, my thighs already shaking around his head.
He gives another light lick, this time dragging his tongue all the way through my hot center.
Now I’m clawing at the car seat.
Dylan’s head comes up, and he focuses on my face. “You taste like heaven and rain and flowers. You’re drugging me, babe.”
“Holy shit, Dylan.” I grab the hair on his head with one hand. “Please don’t stop.”
“Is that what you tell your gynecologist?” he teases.
“Shut up.” I press his head back between my legs. “Just keep touching me like that.”
When he puts his mouth on me this time, he doesn’t let up.
He licks and sucks and kisses, and my moans get louder with each passing second. By the time he heads south, I’m ready to freaking explode.
One gentle thrust inside with his tongue is all I need. An orgasm so enormous takes over my entire body that by the time I stop calling out Dylan’s name long enough to remember my whereabouts, I’ve got his head in a vice-like grip between my thighs.
I release my hold, and he looks up with a smile.
“Best doctor’s appointment ever, I’d say.”
I tug at his disheveled hair. “I’d tell you to stop teasing, but I’m far too euphoric to bother.”
Dylan trails a line of kisses down my inner thigh. “I’m far from done with you, Ms. Gordon.”
I stare at him like he’s nuts. “I can’t possibly…”
But his mouth is back between my legs. “You can,” he murmurs as he nibbles at me, and I let out a delirious cry. “One orgasm from oral sex in a lifetime is unacceptable.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, and for the first time in my life, all I do is feel. For the next three minutes, I feel nothing but pure bliss—the building of pulsating pleasure through my body, all focused on the nerve endings between my legs. One of Dylan’s large fingers slips inside me while his tongue continues to circle my most sensitive area. It’s sensation overload, and I come again.
Before I can fully return to the real world, Dylan’s pants are down and he’s seated on the back seat. He grabs my ass and pulls me on top so I’m straddling him.
“I don’t know if this will work,” I say. “I’m so sensitive.”
“Just see how it feels,” he says. “We’ll stop if you don’t like it.”
His hands on my hips guide me down onto his heavy erection. As soon as I feel his hardness greet me, my body takes over. I sink down onto him in one fast move, bringing him inside until I’m fully seated on top of him.
“Christ,” Dylan bites out as his length disappears inside me completely. “Fucking Christ, Jasalie.”
He roughly pulls up my shirt and lowers my bra until my nipples pop free. He takes one fully into his mouth and sucks me so hard I grip onto his shoulders. He uses one hand to rub my free nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and his other hand circles behind to grip my ass.
Using his shoulders to anchor me, I start riding him fast and hard. I throw my head back, giving Dylan better access to my breasts, and he takes full advantage. I’m already so sensitive from his mouth that just the air alone turns me on, and when Dylan drags his thumb down to my belly button and keeps going, the orgasm building inside of me isn’t something I’m prepared for. I sink down onto him hard and then pull up as I reach my release. He groans and cries out my name as he follows.
His climax sends my already-coiling orgasm spiraling into space. He moves his lips off my breast so he can fuse his mouth to mine as I finish riding him.
When the waves of my release finally stop, I lean my head against his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around my back. I’m drenched in sweat. And exhausted. I don’t think I can move. I feel like I just showed a sacred part of myself to him. I gave Dylan everything just then, and I don’t k
now how to pull myself back together into my protective shell. I also don’t know that I want to.
“Best. Sex. Ever,” he whispers into my ear. “You are so fucking under my skin, Jasalie Gordon.”
I kiss his neck, trying to stop my body from trembling.
“You’re seeing all of me,” I mumble into his skin. “Nobody sees all of me.”
“You’re safe with me, Jasalie.” His lips graze my cheek and finish at the corner of my mouth. “I promise you’re safe.”
I lift my gaze to meet his.
He locks eyes with me in that way where I feel like I’m the most important person in his life. And I finally say what’s in my heart. Because even though he could break my heart in half, I can’t let this affair end without telling Dylan absolutely everything that’s in my soul. I’ll regret doing anything less. And living with regrets is the worst thing I’ve ever experienced.
“Dylan.”
Dylan
Jasalie says my name like she’s never said it before. Something about her tone and the way it rolls off her tongue—it’s like she’s simultaneously desperate and determined to tell me what’s on her mind.
“What is it?” I ask her, my arms wrapped tightly around her warm, naked body.
“Dylan Wild, I love you.”
Time stops.
I thought the best moment of my life was when my team won the Super Bowl. I was sure I’d never reach that kind of a high again in my life.
I was wrong. Because this moment here, with this woman in my arms, is pure heaven. With no cameras, no applause, just her and me as she shows me her heart.
“Jasalie.” I kiss the side of her mouth. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”
She tightens her arms around my neck. “I’ve been thinking, and I don’t want to break up tomorrow.”
Thank fuck.
“So let’s not then.”
She tips her head back to look at me. “Are you sure? Because you said you didn’t want a commitment either. You never said anything about continuing past Arizona.”
“All of that is true. However, I changed my mind on the no commitment thing a while back.”
“When?”
“I’m not sure of the exact moment. But sometime in the last week you’ve gotten so inside me that I can’t imagine ever spending another day apart from you. I want you at my games. I want to go to your first gallery show. And I want…a lot more than that. I want everything with you, Jasalie.”
She brushes her lips to mine. “Me too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Dylan and I switch our cars back at my apartment.
“Let’s walk to get frozen yogurt around the corner before we go to the airstrip,” I say as I take his hand and lead him across the street.
I’ve never taken anyone to this shop before. When I walk up to the counter, the woman says, “That’ll be it?” after I place my order.
I’m happy to say, “No, one more,” as I turn to Dylan.
Dylan insists on us exercising together before we fly out to Montana in the evening. “Just once,” he says as we drive through the city. “If you hate it, we’ll never do it again. I promise.”
“I should warn you now I’m not in the best shape. I don’t know that I’ve ever really exercised in my life.”
“Sex is exercise,” he offers.
“I guess I’ve done quite a bit of exercise this week then,” I say. “So why do we have to do anything else?”
“Because I need to get a workout in, and I don’t want to miss out on any time with you today.”
“Give me the options,” I say with a groan. “And I’m assuming sex isn’t one of them.”
Dylan leans over to kiss me. “Sex is in its own separate category of exercise. It’s under the headers of erotica, and irreplaceable, and X-rated things.”
“And this kind of exercise is…”
“I’m thinking of something we can do together. How about tennis?”
“Tennis!” I say it like a swear word. “No!”
“Why not?” Dylan furrows his brow. “I thought everyone liked tennis.”
“Where’d you ever get that idea? I hate tennis!”
“Why?”
“One, it’s dangerous.” I begin my checklist. “You can get hit with a ball in the head and not even know until you’re unconscious and it’s too late. Two, it’s very exertive.”
“Two doesn’t count.” Dylan laughs. “Exercise is supposed to be exertive, baby.”
“Three,” I continue. “Repetitive motion is very bad for you. To keep winding up your arm over and over to serve? Repetitive.”
Dylan swerves and turns down a side street. “I know the perfect place to play. Outdoor courts by the ocean, right next to Venice. I used to play all the time growing up in Montana. I’ve even got two rackets in the trunk.”
I scowl. “You’ve got an answer for everything. Besides, I thought your shoulder was sore.”
“It’s not sore right now. If I have to, I’ll serve lefty.”
“That shouldn’t make your aim erratic at all,” I say sarcastically.
Dylan chuckles. “One hour. That’s it. And I promise I won’t hit you in the head.”
Take off.
Tennis wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I actually had fun playing with Dylan. And now we’re on the plane on our way to Montana. This time, I’m the calm one, and Dylan’s anxious because we’re going to his hometown and leaving mine behind. I stare down at Los Angeles as the plane climbs higher and higher and heads north. Dylan made sure I packed a winter coat and sweaters. I’ve never been truly north before when it was cold.
“Actually, I have once,” I say to Dylan as he sits across from me and plays a game on his phone. “My foster family took us to New York City in December. I was fourteen.”
“What do you remember?” he asks me, putting the game down to give me his full attention.
“I had fun. It was just for a weekend, and we fought the whole time—my foster siblings and I—but I’m glad I got to see Manhattan.”
“Are you in touch with them still?” he asks me.
“The family? Now and again. We weren’t close. Zoe’s on pills a lot, or alcohol. And Lionel’s a traveler. For business and women.”
Dylan runs his hand down his face. “I can’t believe I’m complaining about going back home. I feel like a big baby right about now.”
“Why?” I ask him. “It was just different is all.”
He shrugs and then says, “I actually meant—are you in touch with your foster siblings at all? I’ve never heard you mention them.”
No, I don’t mention them much. Even to myself. Chloe’s an artist, but she struggles to stay sober. Chelsea’s married with two kids, but she wishes she were still single and without responsibilities. Bud’s the star of all of us—he got in with a dot-com company that made it through several slumps, and he’s a millionaire now. We’re all still in L.A., and we’re all still ashamed, I guess, of where we came from. Ashamed nobody else wanted us and we ended up together by default.
I look at Dylan. “I know where they are. We send Christmas cards now and again. Sometimes we miss a year.” I pause. “I care about them. I wish them well, but that’s about where it ends.”
Dylan’s eyes fill with worry.
“It’s fine. Maybe someday things will change, but right now, it is what it is.”
“Were there others through the years?” he asks me. “Other kids besides from that one family?”
“Yeah. With my first foster family, the lady was a single woman who seemed to collect kids like she did cats, so there were a bunch of us. But I was only eleven when I left her, and I don’t keep in touch with any of those kids.” I laugh. “They’re not kids now, of course. They’re all grown up.”
Dylan smiles and looks out the window. “It can feel like time freezes sometimes.”
Like Dylan had said, Montana’s definitely cold in February. A strong wind gusts across the airstrip, and
I quickly put on my coat and bring the hood up over my head.
As soon as we pick up our rental car, Dylan suggests we check into a motel in town. “Normally, I stay at my parents’ house. Or with Brayden. But I want tonight to just be us. My parents aren’t supposed to be coming home, but they tend to be unpredictable, and I don’t want them showing up in the middle of the night.”
I stare out the window as we drive through the center of Wilcox. It’s very small. There are a lot of antique shops…and not a whole lot else. I think I see a Mexican restaurant. And a bar. It’s called Clyde’s, lit up in big fluorescent letters on the wall.
“Did you drink there a lot?” I point at the nondescript brick building.
“Yeah,” he says. “Clyde’s was about all there was to do around here. Plus, they let us start sometimes at eighteen. After big football games, sometimes we’d be able to coax a beer or two out of the bartender.”
We pull up into the V Motel, and Dylan parks. “I’ll go get us a room. Be right back.”
While he’s gone, I step out of the car and stare down the street, trying to see more. It’s dark already, so my sightseeing—or snooping—will have to wait until tomorrow.
Dylan comes out and grabs our bags, but I insist on taking my purse and bag of clay. He sets off quickly toward our room, talking to me in a whisper. “If it’s really bad, we can go stay at my parents’ house. I just thought this would be more private. If the neighbors see I’m home, they’ll go crazy coming around.”
He unlocks the door to room 123, and we step inside. Two full beds, a dresser with a TV, and not much else. Bare bones. I immediately feel at home.
“This is awesome.” I put my stuff down on one of the beds.
Dylan cocks an eyebrow at me.
“What?” I say. “It is. This is roughing it for you right? So it’s a whole new side of you I get to see.”
Dylan sighs and starts looking for the remote, which he finds in a drawer. He turns on the television, and that’s when we find out the V Motel has no cable.
“Well, that’s no big deal,” I say, bouncing on the bed as I sit on it. “It’s got an antenna. So we’ll just use that.”
Dylan glances at me as he moves the antenna around, and all he gets is static. “I don’t think this is working.”
Dylan (Wild Men) Page 24