by J. A. Coffey
"What took you so long?" She stepped out of the doorway and allowed him to join her in the lush shower with plenty of room to spare.
"I'm sorry about last night." He took her wet hand. His gaze ran down her sudsy body, and he ground his lower lip. "Definitely my loss."
Her heart hammered hard. They hadn't showered together in forever. With Dylan crowding her space, she was ready to forget the past and focus on the present. Naked with the love of her life, nothing could top that. Nothing except maybe Dylan's blue eyes molten with ready-to-unleash passion. He still had the same effect on her, like they were new to the game. Only they weren't.
She knew what to do to him, and pressed her wet breasts to his chest. She was slippery; he, solid and warm. She looped her arms around his neck and smiled into his eyes. "My loss too."
Dylan pulled her under the water and rubbed his now full erection over her belly. Soapy suds streamed down her body. Her fingers tangled in his drenched hair, and she found herself fighting back tears. "I'm sorry," she said, with a crack in her voice. Her face nuzzled his neck.
Moving them out of the spray, he held her by her upper arms. Long, dark wet lashes framed his pretty eyes. Water dripped from his cut physique. "Shhh," he said, pressing a finger to her lips. His biceps muscle corded and her gaze went to the round swell, to the sexy tribal armband tattoo.
*****
He pressed a kiss to her lips. At first it was tentative, but when Shay's mouth parted, he went for it. No more skirting the issue. He wanted her. She wanted him. Time to crank up the heat, take her where they needed to go, to sexual oblivion where nothing but pleasure mattered. They'd tackle life later. After he tackled her body. The only thing that fit into his brain was having this beautiful woman. His woman. His wife.
Dylan sucked her bottom lip. Sucked the top. God, he missed that mouth. His tongue mated with hers. Her moans encouraged him, and he took the kiss to a whole other level.
Enveloped in each other's arms, their mouths made love while their bodies grew hot and reactive. Her passionate kiss tugged on his soul, uncoiling his deepest emotions. He lost control and suffocated her with his lips. His kisses were scorching and desperate. Tightening his wide grasp on her ribcage, he crushed her body against his and slid his dick between her thighs.
Shay broke the kiss and gasped for air. "I can't breathe." She dragged in a ragged breath.
He backed off instantly. "I'm sorry, baby," he said, softening his hold. He was so hungry for her. "You make me this way." He pushed long, sticky strands of hair away from her face.
His gaze drifted down to her breasts. He would never get enough of that body. Never. "Let me bathe you," he said. He pumped body wash into his hands and rubbed them together. Smiling at her lazy expression, he pressed a kiss to her mouth and spread soap across her shoulders.
His fingers worked the cream to a foam. Her eyes were now closed, lips divided, her face reveling in his touch. Dylan's hands glided lower. He stopped at her breasts and cupped them. He pressed, squeezed and molded.
Systematically, he worked his way around her body, washing, teasing her flesh. He moved behind her and soaped up her back. Kneeling, he ran his hands all over her shapely legs. He traced her ankles, massaged her calves, felt up her thighs. Her ass was right there in his face, so pretty, so round. He pressed a kiss to each cheek.
His breathing grew deeper as he came to his feet. He squeezed handfuls of sweet booty and groaned. "I love this ass." He soaped it all up.
He poured out a glob of vanilla-scented shampoo and massaged it into Shay's scalp. Her head dropped back and she moaned in delight. "Feels good?" He used his fingertips to drive away her stress.
Dylan lifted the showerhead from the cradle and brought it over her. He rinsed out the shampoo and ran water over her sudsy frame. Pausing at her breasts, he let the warm stream tickle her beaded nipples. He brought it lower and pointed it between her legs. Shay's hips rocked forward. "You like that?"
Her eyes popped open. She tightened her fist around his straining erection and stroked it. "I like this."
That was it. He returned the showerhead to its proper place, and with both hands, he possessively took hold of Shay. "I'm gonna die if I don't have you."
She grabbed his face and hungrily kissed him. Taking his hand, she pulled him out of the water. Shay turned her back to him and pressed her palms against the glass block. "I don't want you to die," she said, tossing her long wet hair and arching her body out to him.
He groaned and stepped up behind her. His hands splayed over her back and he buried himself between her thighs. One hand fondled her breasts while the other explored down below. He found what he wanted and slipped his finger inside her.
"Take me," she cried out, with desperation in her voice. Who was he to disobey? He grabbed her hipbones and prodded her opening. "Yes," she moaned.
"You feel so good," Dylan grumbled into her spine. He held her still and pumped with fluid strokes. "God, baby." He slowed his pace, savoring every sweet crevice. Her body drove at his. She took him harder and deeper, deeper and harder.
"Oh, God," she cried out, spreading her fingers across the glass. He made love to her with all the emotion he had pent up inside. Pleasure coursed through his soul and all he could think about was how much he loved Shay. He plunged into her again and again until she cried out with her own desperate climax. Her tremulous frame rocked and convulsed in his arms. Dylan came with such force it rattled every bone in his body.
Her spent weight dropped into his arms. His torso lay over her while he gathered his strength. With his arm looped under her, he lifted and straightened her limp body. She turned around and looked up at him with emotional, glassy eyes. "I love you," she said. Teardrops spilled down her face.
Shay still loved him. Thank God! His hands encircled her waist. He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, her pillowy lips. "I love you, too," he said, with raw emotion. "But we're not finished yet."
Chapter Five
Relax, baby, in a sexy Jacuzzi.
Shay smacked the shrilling alarm clock for the third time. She burrowed her face into her pillow. Argh. Why couldn't it be Saturday? No such luck. So she needed to get her butt out of bed. Now.
Good thing Dylan had already vacated the premises. With him in bed, she definitely would've been late for work, not that it wouldn't have been worth it. Lucky for her, she could have him whenever she wanted. After the way he'd taken her last night--thoroughly and repeatedly--she should've been satisfied. But no. Her mind already plotted the next encounter. She had to admit, it was fun figuring out different ways to ravage him. Okay, she'd benefited too. This time, no matter how great he made her feel, no matter how many whispers of I love you, Dylan would not be captain.
Every muscle in her body felt nimble. Serene. At peace. The black cloud had all but lifted. Her heart danced, and her soul knew that today was better, that they would be okay. Their marriage would not only survive, it would be stronger, and so would they.
The way Dylan had made love to her spoke volumes. Still, she'd continue her seduction. Yes, she wanted to make love again and again. She also wanted to talk, come to a new understanding.
It would've been nice to stay in bed, recount last night a gazillion more times, watch Jerry Springer for the hell of it, and just plain chill out. When had she last called in sick? Never. Not even when she really needed to. Tempting thought, but not Shay's style. People depended on her. And that's how she liked it.
Despite only a few hours of sleep, she felt adequately rested. Good. She needed to get through the next ten hours with her faculties in check. After work, she could do whatever. She rolled to Dylan's side of the bed and smelled his pillow. Mmm. The anticipation of more sex held almost as much appeal as the act itself. Almost. Knowing what awaited, she could easily breeze through the day, no problem.
Breeze? Thank you, Donna, for making the day anything but. Poor girl. Model employee. Efficient assistant. When she walked into Shay's office after lunch,
her eyes puffy and swollen...well, not much work got done after that. Pregnant? Shay couldn't believe it. Donna? No freaking way.
Bad enough Donna wasn't married. She still lived at home and had to deal with her parents, who weren't the most progressive people. Shay had listened without passing judgment. She'd offered empathy, understanding, but no advice. Only Donna could decide her next move.
*****
Lying naked in the spa, Shay ran through her day, and Donna's predicament. She eased her body into the whirlpool and let the warm swirls soothe her skin. With her head propped against the curved ledge, she indulged in the private sanctuary of her backyard. Dylan would be home shortly, and she could hardly wait.
Sipping vintage merlot, she gazed up at a dark speckled sky. Next to Donna, she didn't have any troubles. Donna. Shay couldn't stop thinking about her. She worried. A lot. Donna wasn't a strong woman.
"Shay?" Dylan's deep voice echoed.
"Out here," she yelled back.
He strolled onto the patio. When he saw her, a big grin smeared his lips. "Party's out here tonight?"
"Party's in here," she said, slapping the water. Get naked and get in here. Fast.
Dylan swaggered over to the spa. He bent and kissed her, cupped a naked breast. "How was your day?" He rose and began to undress, deftly undoing his shirt buttons. He tugged his shirttail from his pants, working the last two buttons. Slowly, he peeled away his shirt, leaving only a white athletic tee.
"Better now." She forgot about her day. And focused on her man's sexy attributes. She loved how his undershirt exposed all the key parts, but when he pulled it up over his head, she held her breath and stifled a heady reaction.
He continued his striptease. Luckily, thick hearty foliage enveloped the patio. Their acre of land sat well away from prying eyes. The only one watching was her, and he seemed real intent on giving a good show. He shed everything but his smile and stood before her, tall and proud. Stepping into the spa, he leisurely sank that macho glory, and finally, she could breathe normally again.
His head disappeared beneath the white whirlpool and came up under her. Shay's body shuddered with surprise. Delight. His mouth went up her thigh, across her lap, over her breasts and to her chin, where he placed a tender kiss.
Water dripping into his eyes, he put an arm on each side of her head and stared at her. God, what a gorgeous husband. Dark. Intense. Corrupt. He leaned forward, and this time he laid a mind-blowing kiss on her. "Hey," he said when their mouths parted.
Five years and his kiss still boiled her blood. She needed his heat, needed that burn to feel alive. Loving him. Being loved by him. That's what her life required. Caught between his hard chest and wide arms, Shay was a lucky woman. She'd married the love of her life. "What's up?"
"I thought this day would never end." He nibbled her jaw. "This is all I could think about." He kissed her longer, harder. "Did you have fun last night?" He sucked her bottom lip, practically swallowing it.
Her cells sizzled. She loved when he kissed her like that, utterly consuming. He had so much to give. She took every bit. With a lazy grin, she pressed her fingertip to his chin, over a small scar that he'd had for decades. "The question is did you have fun?" She poked the tiny dent.
"Oh, yeah." Dylan's chest rubbed her breasts. He stared down at them. "I have a couple of ideas for tonight."
She grasped his forearms, gauged their strength. "I do too," she said, caressing the sprinkle of dark hair over his skin. His mouth captured a taut nipple. He not so gently sucked it. Her hips jerked at his boldness, the instant bolt of pleasure. It took sheer willpower to pull her breast away. "Turn around."
Dylan lifted his head and looked at her. "Okay." He complied, and treated her to an eyeful of muscled tan ass.
She eased herself back into the whirlpool and sat on the underwater ledge. Her gaze lingered on his perfect buns. Mel Gibson had nothing on him. "Come down here and lean into me."
He followed orders like a fresh recruit, snuggling his back into her open embrace. She handed him a glass of wine. Cuddling her breasts into his smooth back, she wrapped her legs around his hips. "This feels nice," she said, nuzzling his shampoo-scented hair.
"Definitely," he agreed. Draining half a glass of wine, he let his frame fall into full relax mode.
"How was your day?" She massaged his scalp.
Groaning with pleasure, he didn't answer right away. "Did you eat?" he asked, when he finally spoke.
"Late lunch. You?"
"Same."
"What's going on with the mansion?" Her fingers worked his skull and legs hugged him close.
"We're in the paperwork phase. Labor should start in a few weeks."
"Can't wait to see the finished product." She knew his work would be top-notch and gorgeous. As always.
"I want you to see the house before we begin."
"Really?" Things were definitely starting to feel normal again.
"Yep." Dylan's long fingers traced her thighs. He caressed her hips, squeezing the sides where her meat was juicier. Not too juicy, mind you. She was proud of her thirty-six inch hips. Lucky for her, she didn't have to work too hard to maintain them. Thank you, Mom, for the good genes. At fifty-something, her mother still looked fabulous. She may not have been the most nurturing mom, but she had a ton of style and grace. Some of which had rubbed off on Shay.
Shay loved fashion. It hadn't always been that way. Back in middle school, she'd been a tomboy--baggy jeans, even baggier tees, and sneakers. Her toes had never seen daylight. High School had changed all that. She'd grown out her hair, had even experimented with makeup. She'd embraced her femininity, her sultry dark looks. A lot of guys had appreciated the change. Not that she'd done it for any of them.
Dylan slipped his hands beneath her butt, distracting her. "I want you to be part of the process," he said, squeezing her flesh. "See what makes your husband tick."
Her hands circled his torso. She caressed his flat midsection, played with his small, tan nipples. Trailing her fingers down his taut frame, she snared his semi-stiff erection and squeezed it. "I already know what makes him tick." She stroked him up and down, up and down until he grew rigid. "See?" she said, increasing the tempo of her pumps. She slowed her rhythm and took her time exploring.
Dylan turned his head sideways to capture a nipple.
She stopped him. With her hand, she kept him right where she wanted him, inflicting more pressure, inflicting more pleasure. Her finger toyed with the sensitive head, spreading a slick drop of fluid that had trickled out. His breaths picked up. She concentrated her energy on that magnificent part of his body. He bucked against her, and just like that, she let him go. "Not yet," she said.
He held still against her, regulated his breathing. "Close call," he said, nestling into her. It amazed her how quickly he got it back under control. But he wouldn't for long. Nope. Not if she could help it. "You could do that to me every night," Dylan rasped out.
"Ha!" She pressed a kiss to his temple. "If I did, you would get bored."
"Would not."
Shay let out a laugh. Of course he would say that. She patted his chest and said, "Relax. I promise not to touch."
"Don't do that."
"Okay. I won't."
"So you'll do it again?"
"Yeah."
"When?"
She laughed again. "Soon."
He reached up and put his arm behind her head. "Well," he said, and began to whistle. "Since we're killing time..." He blew out a few verses. "Tell me about your day."
Shay's groan came out louder than she'd intended. "You don't want to know," she said, playing with his pebbled nipples.
"What don't I want to know?"
Did she really want to talk about work and dampen the mood she'd just created? Yeah. She needed to discuss Donna's problem with Dylan, get a guy's perspective on the situation. Besides, she knew how to get her husband's motor running again. Of that, she was not concerned. "Remember Donna?"
"You
r assistant?"
"My pregnant assistant."
"When did she get married?"
"She didn't."
"Oh."
"She's been seeing some guy on and off, mostly off. He got her pregnant."
"Donna?"
"I know," Shay said, adjusting her weight. She curled her leg over his thigh. "She's a mess. And she's terrified of telling her parents."
"She's an adult."
"Yeah, she is twenty-three."
"Adult," he reiterated.
"Only she still lives with them."
"She does?"
"That's a whole other story."
"So what's the deal with this guy?"
"Donna informed him that she was pregnant. He informed Donna that that was her problem."
"What an asshole."
"Yep. He just used her for a screw."
"Some dudes are like that." His fingers splayed over her calf. He drew circles on her skin, leaving tiny goose bumps everywhere. "Whatever their mentality, they should use some fucking protection."
"I can't believe Donna didn't insist. She's really hung-up on this loser."
"Must be."
"Why do men do that? Walk away so easily."
"People can rationalize anything. In his mind, it's probably Donna's fault."
"Well it's not," she said, in an edgy tone.
"I know that," Dylan said.
"It's too convenient to blame the woman."
"Unfortunately, some women allow themselves to get pregnant."
"So they can trap the guy?"
"Sometimes."
"You think subconsciously, maybe that's what Donna tried to do?"
"No. I think she was just being naive."
Yeah. Donna was a gentle soul, quiet and kind and almost childlike in her innocence. "Real naive," she said, nodding in agreement. Her lips pressed together and she pouted. "But that doesn't help her right now."
"She has options."
"Not really."
"What are you talking about?" He turned his head to look at her. "There are plenty of choices."