Coming Consumed: Welcome to Carson, Book Three

by Renee Harless

  Wasting little time, Dylan pounces on her again, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth and pushing apart her legs with his feet. In a move so quick and effortless that it would make a weightlifter proud, Dylan hoists her up in the air and rests her thighs on his shoulders, bringing his face within inches of her center. His strong hands remain under her thighs, and he moves her legs apart, opening up her apex to him.

  Her breathing comes in quick little pants and for a moment, all he can do is stare at her. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, almost as though he were going to indulge in a scrumptious feast, and watching his eyes dilate elicits a piercing moan of desire from her.

  His eyes dart up to hers momentarily, but then swiftly return to the masterpiece between her legs.

  “You better stay quiet, Angel. Don’t want them hearing you. Your Daddy’s still here.”

  “My what?!” she asks in alarm, but instantly closes her eyes and relaxes against the wall as Dylan’s tongue strokes up her folds.

  He works his tongue and lips at a fevered pace against her center. The perfection that was his tongue began slowly licking up her wetness, then making circles around her bundle of nerves. As his tongue starts flicking back up and down across her clit, Sydney feels the waves of pleasure building deep within her core.

  “Yes…oh, please…yes,” she grunts, lost in the bliss building inside her.

  In a move she will later question, considering her position, Dylan inserts two of his fingers into her soft channel as he continues to flick his tongue against her sensitive spot. As he moves them in and out, Sydney can feel her release right there, ready to come.

  Dylan must sense her need because he crooks his fingers at the right place against her inner wall, and she detonates around him. He slows his movements to allow her to ride out the pulses and when she sags against the wall, he wipes his face on her thigh and then smiles up at her.

  “Wow,” she whispers.

  He moves forward slightly and she slides down his body until her feet reach the floor. As he steps back, she notices the large bulge in his pants, the tip of his erection peeking out past the waist band.

  She cocks her head to the side and gestures towards his groin, “What about you?”

  “I’m fine, Angel,” he says as he helps her replace her panties and skirt. “I’m sure you can make it up to me later.”

  Sydney stands, mesmerized by the twinkle of delight in his silver eyes.

  “Your brother will be here with you this morning. I’ll be back this afternoon.”

  Sydney nods in response, still feeling out of sorts after the orgasm and Preston’s earlier proclamation.

  “I do love you, Syd,” Dylan adds as he turns to leave the office.

  Her fear and concern triple in size as she whispers back, “I love you, too.”

  That night he tosses and turns in bed, visions of Sydney hurt and alone filtering through his mind, along with images of Sydney and Preston together and in those images Sydney looks…happy. He sighs heavily and juts one of his hands angrily through his hair.

  A small hand comes to rest on his shoulder and he turns to find Sydney laying on her side, eyeing him wearily.

  “Hey, Angel. I’m sorry to wake you.”

  “Is everything ok? Are you worried?”

  “I am, but it’s not what you’re thinking,” he admits as he twists on the bed to face her. “Can I ask how close you were with Preston?”

  “Oh,” she replies, surprised by his question. “We dated for a couple years, so I’d say we were close. We did a lot together. We…um… are you sure you want to hear this?”

  Dylan tucks a piece of hair behind her ear as he nods for her to continue.

  “Well, we had talked about getting married, where we would live, how many kids we would have. The things most people talk about when they’ve been in a relationship for a while.”

  “Do you miss him? Or did you?”

  “Caleb - I mean, Preston - was my first everything, it’s hard to forget the impact he had on my life, but it’s even harder to forget everything that happened. I’m not sure I miss him exactly, but I miss what we had.

  “What’s all this about, Dylan? When I said you were my boyfriend, I meant it.”

  “I know you did, Sydney. I just wonder if now that Preston’s back, and I wouldn’t doubt that he’s itching to have you back, if maybe…”

  Sydney leans up on her elbow, a concerned look etched across her features as she stares down at him.

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “Nothing, Angel. I just want you to be happy and if he, and what you all had together, makes you happy, then I don’t want to stand in your way.”

  Scooting closer to him, she tucks herself close to his body.

  “Dylan,” she whimpers.

  “I won’t back away without a fight, but I’ll do whatever makes you happy, Angel.”

  “But, Dylan, are you even certain that he even wants to try to get back together with me?”

  Resting his hand on the back of her head, she snuggles into his neck as he replies, “He’d be an idiot to not want you back.”

  “Well I think you’re smarter,” she retorts, sleep slurring her voice.

  “And better looking,” he adds, chuckling as he skirts his hand down her spine, then squeezes her backside.

  With the small movement, Sydney’s body comes alive and she looks up at him while sliding her hand up his stomach, resting it at last on his chest.

  “Definitely better looking.”

  Dylan leans over and seals his lips against Sydney’s as his free hand tugs at the tiny shorts she wore to bed. And, to prove a point to himself, Dylan spends the night showing Sydney ALL the ways he’s better than Preston, at everything.

  WEEK HAS GONE BY since he, Preston and Lewis had begun monitoring Sydney like hawks, but nothing has happened. Nothing out of the ordinary, at least.

  Dylan feels a strong sense of possessiveness wash over him whenever he finds Preston alone with Sydney, and that feeling only intensifies anytime he watches her laugh at something her ex has been saying. He knows that what he feels is both irrational and unjustifiable, but he can’t seem to control it. It sneaks up on him and wraps itself around his heart, squeezing for all its worth.

  Jealousy.

  Dylan is jealous of every laugh, every smile, and every memory that Sydney shares with Preston. And as he walks into the bakery late on Tuesday, he heads straight for the kitchen area, in search of his partner.

  He’s not surprised at what he finds: Sydney needlessly mixing some batter in a stainless steel bowl, Preston leaning against the counter beside her, dressed in his construction garb. Dylan feels his gut clench tightly as he watches Sydney’s beautiful neck extend as her head tilts back in laughter, then Preston’s grin reaches past his eyes as if he’d won a gold medal. And Dylan has to agree with him, even if only grudgingly, because every time Sydney smiles at him, he feels like the luckiest bastard on this planet.

  Just as he is about to speak, the tinkling of the bell above the door echoes throughout the room. Kerry, niece to Angie who owns the lone diner in town, walks in along with Carson’s Police Chief, Fred.

  Kerry immediately leans over the dessert counter and holds a friendly, whispered conversation with Sydney. Dylan vaguely remembers that the two had become friends when Kerry catered Nikki and Austin’s wedding a few months before. Being who he is, he also knows there is a secret that Kerry keeps close to her vest: a secret that he isn’t sure Sydney or the town of Carson is prepared for.

  “Gentlemen,” Fred bellows across the counter.

  Even at his age of thirty-three, Dylan cringes at the chastising tone of the Police Chief’s voice.

  Sydney turns her head towards the back of the kitchen where Dylan stands, and her cheeks blush softly, as if she has been caught doing something she shouldn’t when she realizes he had been there to witness Preston’s flirtatious advances towards her.

  Against his heart’s bet
ter judgment, Dylan lifts the corner of his mouth in a small grin and he watches as Sydney visibly relaxes, returning the affection with a wide smile of her own.

  “Any news?” Fred questions, leaning back to rest his aging hips against the cool granite.

  “No. And unfortunately, in this case, no news is not good news.”

  Alarmed, Sydney screeches, “You want them to catch me?”

  Rapidly turning in her direction, Dylan swiftly assures her, “No, Angel. I want them to mess up so that we can catch them.”

  Thankfully, Dylan is saved by Sydney’s brother, Austin, as he comes strolling into the kitchen and beckons Dylan to follow him.

  “I don’t know,” he tells Austin, wary of leaving Sydney alone.

  “It’s fine, man. I’ll hang here for a bit longer,” Preston assures him, eying Sydney’s body as she leans across the counter, talking quietly with Kerry.

  Dylan doesn’t respond, instead he tilts his head towards Fred, asking a silent question. The older officer nods in compliance, indicating his promise to keep an eye on Sydney and Preston until Dylan returns.

  Trailing behind Austin, Dylan steps through the plastic curtain that divides Wake and Bake from The Grill.

  “I think we’re ready to finalize the setup here. I want to do the final walk-through with you so if we need to do anything else, we can get it done before I send all my workers to the Carson Pediatric Clinic.”

  Walking the perimeter of the room, Dylan grins as he finds all of his specifications met to absolute perfection. The large, flat cooking surfaces, sandwich press, sub-zero fridges: all is exactly as he had pictured in his mind.

  “How is the clinic coming along?” Dylan inquires, still soaking in every detail of the kitchen and cleaning areas.

  “Things are going well. We just finished putting in the windows and laying the outer rock façade, so we’ll be able to start the interior sooner than expected.”

  “That’s great,” Dylan mumbles as he watches Austin eyeing him skeptically.

  “You seem to be a bit serious about my sister. You planning on making it something more permanent?” he blurts out suddenly.

  Turning his head to glance over his shoulder, Dylan cocks an eyebrow at Austin, finding his friend in a protective stance, arms crossed over his chest and feet hip-width apart.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “I want you to say that you’re not messing around with Sydney.”

  Mimicking Austin’s stance, Dylan crosses his arms over his broad chest, then rests against the new grill.

  “I’m not messing around with Sydney.” Taking a deep breath, Dylan relaxes and then puts both hands in the air in a confused manner, “I love her, man, but you know that it isn’t up to me what happens. It’s up to Sydney. And right now, I’m not sure I’m the one that she wants. She has the choice of a future that she had already mapped out, or one completely unknown.”

  Austin strokes a hand across his hair, which is quickly growing back to its previous length after having been shaved: the result of having been pinned beneath a falling wall.

  “I still can’t believe she hid that relationship from us. God, man, they could have killed her.”

  “I know it’s frustrating, but I’m sure she had her reasons. She never had a life outside of Carson before then, and I believe she wanted to keep the two separate. And the whole reason I am here right now is to make sure that the group never gets the chance to finish what they started.”

  Austin huffs and holds out his hand towards Dylan.

  “Thanks, man,” he says as Dylan returns the shake. “Now let’s get you back over there before that other guy has the chance to make his move.”

  “Sure.”

  Dylan takes one final look around the place he plans to call home for as long as Sydney will let him. He eyes the menu chalk board, which is covered in Sydney’s curvy, feminine handwriting where she has written the menu for opening day.

  Austin and Dylan return to the bakery’s kitchen to find Fred snacking on a cupcake and Preston flirting shamelessly with an unimpressed Kerry.

  The group waves goodbye to Austin as he continues on his way out the front door. A shiver suddenly races across the back of Dylan’s neck and his instincts jump into over drive, though he is not yet sure why. Glancing around the kitchen once more, he finds no sign of Sydney. He hustles back to her office and the unoccupied bathroom, not finding her in either location.

  Just as he turns the corner of the hall, making his way back to the kitchen, he notices bright sunshine glaring in from the ajar door in the back.

  How had he missed that?

  Dylan rushes towards the opening and the tingling on his neck intensifies with each step closer he takes. The air is perceptibly knocked from his lungs when he sees the burnt tire tracks greeting him at the doorway.

  “She’s gone,” he whispers in dismay, tugging his hands through his mane.

  Spinning on his heels, Dylan runs towards the kitchen and has to stop abruptly as he collides with the butcher block island – the very same island where he had once made love to Sydney.

  “Fuck, they got her. She’s gone!” he roars, his heartbreaking cry shattering the air.

  “What?” Kerry gasps in alarm and as the blackness creeps into Dylan’s vision, he can barely see as she crumbles into herself and curls onto the floor.

  With his elbows digging into the wooden top, Dylan defeatedly rests his head in his palms.

  “She’s fucking gone.”

  EARING PAIN ENCOMPASSES SYDNEY’S head as she slowly regains consciousness. She feels around the space, struggling to use her barely-mobile arms, only to find cold metal against her side and back. A sudden jostle causes her eyes to fly open as she tries to right herself. She immediately regrets that decision; however, as she comes face-to-face with a large and stocky man who seems to have missed the memo that turtlenecks and black monochrome clothing shouldn’t be worn in the spring.

  “Hello there, Blondie,” The deep rogue voice sends shivers down her spine. “It’s about time you came around.”

  As she tries to speak, her scratchy voice is muffled by the cloth that is wrapped across her mouth. Rapid glimpses of what happened earlier skitter across her mind and she shrieks in terror.

  Sydney remembers chatting with Kerry when the doorbell for the back door rang. At first, she had ignored it, but then she remembered it was Tuesday, the delivery day for her supplies. She had waved off the group in the kitchen as she explained it was the delivery service and she went to sign for the order.

  The moment she had opened the back door, a heavy arm reached through and tugged her back by the neck, while her assailant’s other hand placed the cloth over her mouth. She had screamed and kicked, but it did little to the man who was twice her size and the fabric muffled any noise. The last thing she remembered was getting dragged into the back of a red van disguised as her supplier’s, and a third large arm knocking her unconscious with the butt of a handgun.

  “Where are you taking me?” Sydney asks, trying but failing to keep her voice from shivering in fear.

  The man just stares at her, his eyes cold, calculating, deadly. Sydney had once thought the fright she had felt at their hands a few years ago was enough, but the probing gaze he eyes her with causes her more than just alarm: it gives her a feeling of dread deep in the pit of her stomach. After a moment, he smiles an evil grin in her direction that causes dread to boil up into nausea that rapidly rises up her throat.

  “Don’t worry, Blondie. The boss just wants to meet you first.”

  Sydney coughs behind the gag as she swallows down the acidic taste in her mouth.

  She doesn’t know how long they have been on the road since she was knocked unconscious, but there are no windows and the front of the van has been curtained off. She has no idea where they are, or how far away she is from Carson. Suddenly, the van takes a tight turn and her captor falls in her direction, landing right beside her. Sydney moves as far away from
him as she can, scrunching into the corner of the van. The man smirks devilishly, then laughs as he trails a hand up and down her thigh. Her nausea springs forth once more.

  “Don’t worry, Blondie, we were to leave you untouched. Besides, you’re not my type.”

  The man moves back to his corner and Sydney gently raises herself into a sitting position, bringing her knees up and resting her chin on them, tucking herself into the tightest ball she can.

  Small bumps and rocks alert her that the van is now traveling on a steep gravel road, and she tries to swallow down her fear. They travel for what Sydney decides is around five minutes, following the same rocky path. The van comes to an abrupt halt and before she has the chance to get her bearings, the back door is flung open and the second captor tugs her by the ankle, towards the end of the van.

  As they pull her from the vehicle and place her unsteadily onto her feet, she glances up and finds the sun is still high in the sky. Thanks to her father’s teachings, she guesses it’s only three in the afternoon or so, which means they haven’t been traveling too long.

  Good, that means we’re not too far out of town.

  Sydney hides her sigh of relief as the men each grab one of her arms and escort her up the stairs. She hadn’t taken a good look at the place when they arrived, but glancing now, she realizes in astonishment that the group is hiding in one of the old plantation homes. When she was growing up, they used to host tours here and she still vaguely remembers the layout. But if Sydney recalls correctly, the caretaker has passed away and the building is set to be demolished. The town condemned it when neighbors started complaining about wild vermin living in the space.