“Okay, the meal and chat was a good start, maybe next we can…” I begin, clinging to rational thought.
“Tell me what you like,” he interrupts, resting his forehead on mine.
Dylan’s sudden change of pace disarms me; two minutes ago we were playing like kids. Now we’re back to adult territory. With a capital A. I wrap my arms around his neck, tracing the short hair at the nape. His eyes darken, reflecting my desire and rewinding us back to the ‘snuggling’.
“Dylan, I am stupidly and incredibly attracted to you to the point of needing an asthma inhaler when you’re close but…”
“But I put you off with talk of fucking. How about we don’t fuck? There’re plenty of other things we could do…” The suggestion in his low tone reconnects the physical us. “All I can think about is you; I’m obsessed by your mouth.” I allow Dylan to place his lips on mine, a tentative touch as he waits for my response. I answer him with a mouth-mashing kiss, parting my lips, allowing his tongue to play with mine. The want from yesterday courses through my veins with the alcohol, and as soon as I taste him, I want more. I want all of him. We kiss fiercely, gripping hair, biting lips, giving in to everything we’re hiding.
Maybe he’s using clever words as a way to get into the not-small-enough knickers I’m wearing, but I don’t care. Who am I kidding saying I don’t want him?
I make a soft noise of disappointment as he pulls away. “So? Tell me. What do you want me to do?” he asks.
“Kiss me again.”
“Is that all?”
I grab his head and pull him to me, losing myself in the taste and scent of him, his skilful kisses unravelling me further. He pulls away and slides his mouth down my neck, licking and sucking until I wriggle against the sensation.
Dylan slowly slides a hand beneath my shirt, and I arch towards him so his palm reaches my breast. Through the satin fabric, he rubs a nipple with his thumb, placing his other hand next to me as he leans in, tracing more kisses along my neck. He’s hard beneath his jeans, and his comment about erections and Florida makes sudden sense.
“Anything else?” he asks, breathing shallow. The fact I’m affecting his breathing too is a huge turn on. Me. I do this to him. He continues his attention to my breast, teasing my nipple with his fingers. “Tell me what else.”
Alcohol paving the road ahead, I wave goodbye to modesty and drag my top over my head. I unhook my bra, pushing the straps from my arms and fix Dylan with a challenging expression. He pulls off his T-shirt and adds it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. I place a hand on the smooth muscles, dragging my fingernails down to the curve of his abs.
Dylan moistens his lips as his gaze moves to my breasts, tracing a finger from my neck towards my breasts before cupping one with his long fingers. “You are so fucking gorgeous.”
His mouth closes around my nipple, sensation jolting to my core as he sucks. I press myself against his thigh, shamelessly rubbing against him and he pushes his hand underneath my backside, squeezing me closer. Dylan spends the next few delirious minutes exploring every inch of my exposed skin with his tongue and lips. The warmth from his mouth evaporates when he shifts his attentions, cooling my hot skin as he licks and sucks at my nipples. I groan and lock my legs around Dylan’s hips, attempting to hold him as close as I can.
I’m a shaking, panting mess when he lifts his head, and I wriggle towards him, not wanting him to stop. Dylan puts his palms on my back and squashes my breasts against his chest. A gasp escapes as my hardened nipples touch his smooth, warm skin; a connection that’s only the start of what my body wants from him. We collide mouths again, his heart hammering against mine in unison. Holding each other’s heads, as if not wanting to let go, we kiss fiercely as if this is the end when it’s only the beginning.
Now, he’s unbuttoning my shorts.
I freeze and Dylan stops. “I want to touch you,” he says, pulling on the zip. “Is that okay?”
Ohmygod, is this ever okay? This is okay. Yes? Stop thinking. “Please…”
Dylan slips a finger in the front of my shorts, struggling to reach me through the tight denim. Watching for my reaction with darkened blue eyes, he tugs at the shorts and I move to allow him to remove them. My hands go to the button of his jeans and he shifts.
“No. Just you,” he says. “Mine are staying on.”
My underwear pulls down with the shorts and they hit the floor. He slowly runs his hand up my inner thigh, and I moan anticipating his fingers reaching my sex. As Dylan reaches my wet heat, he sucks air between his teeth before closing his mouth over mine again. I groan as he pushes a finger inside, teasing my clit with his thumb as he moves his hand. Waves of pleasure pulse into every nerve ending; and I dig my fingers into the sinews of his back, holding on so I don’t collapse. I close my eyes, focused purely on the sensation, unable to believe this is happening to me.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he growls against my mouth.
I struggle against the gathering bliss, not wanting this to end, moving my hips to match the movement of his fingers. “What are you doing to me?”
Dylan nips at my neck and ear lobe, short, heavy breaths in my ear. “Whatever you want me to do. Or do you want me to stop?” There’s a teasing tone to his voice; this isn’t about asking permission.
This is torture. I fumble with the button to his jeans but he swats my hand away. “No, I said you.”
“But I want…” His mouth crushes mine again, the rhythm of his fingers inside me crashing through my body. I’m on the brink of losing control when he stops and steps back.
I want to protest, but instead a whimper escapes my throat. Dylan licks his fingers, hooded eyes on mine. “I want to taste you,” he murmurs.
Oh, holy crap.
Dylan doesn’t wait for a response. He kneels on the floor in front of me, the warmth of his breath against my sex, and pulls my legs towards him, setting them on his shoulders. The shaking intensifies as he presses his mouth to me, tongue gliding along my wetness and teasing the sensitive bud. I grip the edge of the kitchen bench and stifle a cry.
“Fuck, you’re wet and hot and fuck…” The vibration of his voice against me intensifies the engulfing sensation.
“Oh, God!” I cry out as he slides a finger inside, continuing to explore me with his hot mouth.
Then Dylan demonstrates what an expert he is at this, and I suspect his shift in direction isn’t only for me. Licking, sucking, thrusting with his fingers, he brings me to the brink over and over. Then each time he stops, prolonging things to the point I’m ready to scream at him.
When the blinding orgasm hits, and the stars dance in front of my eyes, he drags me to the floor, across his lap and holds me until I return from his galaxy to the world. Dylan buries his face in my neck, and strokes my hair swearing repeatedly under his breath. The thud of his heart against mine, and lust in his hooded eyes when our eyes meet again has me grasping at his jean’s button for a third time.
“No,” he says breathlessly, “Just no.”
I run a finger below his hair where strands stick to his face. “Please, Dylan, you said what I wanted?”
He smiles. “Nice try.”
“You’re being unfair,” I pant.
“I know, and to myself.” Dylan squeezes his eyes closed, shifting beneath me. “Fuck, this is hard.”
I nudge my nose against his ear. “I’m aware of how hard. You could…”
Drawing a ragged breath, Dylan places his forehead on mine. “No. Fuck, Sky, I want to so fucking much but no.” His arms tighten around my waist, fingers tickling the sensitive spot at the base of my spine, “How about some more snuggling?”
“Snuggling…?” I can barely hide the disappointment in my voice.
Dylan stands, still holding me around the waist and I wrap my legs around his. The sensation of his erection beneath the rough denim against my sensitive sex as he walks upstairs sends new shockwaves through my body. I want him, not snuggling.
In hi
s bedroom, Dylan pushes back the covers and sits, the pair of us falling into bed. Hope flares he might have changed his mind, but he pulls me to his chest, wrapping me in his arms. Dylan’s heart thumps against my naked breasts, rapid heartbeat gradually slowing as he strokes my hair. He soothes me as easily as he sent me crazy and I fight the urge to push him to finish what we’ve started. I think he’s as aware as I am what will happen if we start kissing again, and here because all he does is hold me.
A silent understanding holds us in the moment, the weird link to the man I hardly know fusing me to him. The moon shines through the open curtains, casting a blue glow across the room. I turn onto my side and snuggle into him.
Dylan squeezes me tight and kisses my neck. “I haven’t slept with someone else for years.” He whispers, “Don’t leave my bed tonight.”
“I don’t want to.” I kiss the arm wound around my chest.
As I drift to sleep, he rubs his nose against my cheek. “I love the world we’re in, where you’ll always be my summer Sky. I could live here forever.”
Chapter Twelve
The sun streams through the room, the brightness waking me. I squint at the seashell curtains, delving my sleepy mind for where I am. Beach house. Bed. With… Ohmygod, Dylan lies with his arms wrapped around my waist in a tight grip, as if I might disappear if he lets go.
I loosen his hand, and shift away. I’m naked and he’s slept in his jeans, which can’t be comfortable for him and makes me uncomfortable. I want to cover up; however great he made me feel last night, being naked in the bright summer’s day is odd. Searching the room, I spot one of his black T-shirts near the edge of the bed. Bending, I reach for it and pull it over my head. Dylan’s scent covers my skin, the way he covered my body last night. Did that really happen? I know I was drunk, but what he did sent me spiralling higher. A familiar tingling and tightening takes hold at the memory of his mouth, hands, tongue… and the thought of what he denied me.
I sneak to the bathroom.
When I return, Dylan is awake. I tense, okay so we didn’t have full sex but came pretty, damn, close. What now? Dylan runs his tongue along his lower lip as he regards me with the old look from last night.
“You look sexy as fuck in my clothes,” he says, “especially the way that T-shirt doesn’t quite cover your ass far enough.”
The intensity of his gaze fires pink into my cheeks and I tug on the material.
Dylan frowns. “What’s wrong?”
I hesitate, not sure if he wants me here or gone. “I’m practically naked and you’ve still got your jeans on.”
He looks down at himself. “Yeah, that was needed. It’s pretty hard to control myself around you.”
I tip my head and give him a doubtful look. Propping himself on one elbow, shoulder muscles tensing, he frowns back. “Don’t you believe me?” Unsure how to respond, I perch on the bed. Dylan shuffles towards me, and places a hand on my thigh. “Sky?”
I rub my lips together, taking in the sight of his impossibly toned chest and shoulders. And the biceps - the ones I wanted to lick in the first day. Still do. Licking… I colour again.
“Come back to bed,” he says. “I want to snuggle more.”
I fix his darkening eyes with mine. “Snuggle?”
Dylan sits and pushes my hair behind my ears, before kissing my forehead. “Snuggling, waking in bed with someone and not…”
“Fucking them and leaving?”
He pulls a face. “Don’t start that, Sky… Never with you; I told you that the first night I kissed you.”
“We didn’t get that far anyway, so I’ll believe you after we do…that.”
Dylan strokes my cheek. “After we do?”
“If we do, I mean.” His ability to match me in clever comebacks is annoying.
“So you’re not sure you want to? That’s cool…,” he says.
I take his right arm and study the mash up of tattoos, eager for a subject change. “Do any of these mean anything?”
From his wrist to his shoulder, yellow stars and a swirling black pattern meld with bright flames. A blue bird covers most of the skin on his arm, tail feathers stretching towards his wrist. The head of the bird pushes through blue fire, colour exploding to the edge of Dylan’s shoulder. I run my finger along the picture.
He gives a short laugh. “That one’s fairly significant, yeah.”
I follow the outline with my finger. “You’re an ornithologist?”
He meets my smirk with a shake of the head. “No, Sky. It’s not a bird.”
“Isn’t it an eagle?”
“There’re flames?”
“Roast eagle?”
Dylan clamps his hands either side of my face and kisses me hard on the top of my head.
“Oh, fuck, you’re the funniest, most genuine chick I’ve met. Ever. I like you so fucking much.”
“So you are an ornithologist.” I pull my head away and meet his confused eyes, “If you like chicks.”
“So sharp, I’m going to cut myself on you one day.” He nips my shoulder.
“What is it then, your tattoo?”
“A phoenix.”
“Oh, nice; I mean, it’s a good picture.”
“You thought the tattoo was an eagle though, so the picture can’t be that good.”
What is with the barely contained amusement on his face?
“Big tattoos aren’t that nice.” I pull a face.
“So you don’t want to inspect the rest of my tattoos?”
“No thanks.”
“Come back to bed then, summer Sky who hates tattoos.”
“Take your jeans off,” I say boldly.
A sharp sound of air sucked through Dylan’s teeth is the response I get. “You’re telling me what to do?”
“Might be.”
“Hmm.” Dylan lies on his back, and stretches his arms over his head then twists his head to mine. “Do you want to leave this room today?”
His words are a challenge. I have one too. “Yes, because you’re taking me on a date.”
The laugh bubbling from his chest prompts a smile of my own and he rubs his large palm across his face. “I’d better get a shower then…”
I relax.
“In a minute…” Before I have a chance to react, Dylan lunges at me; then he pulls me backwards onto him, burying his face into my hair. “You’re naked…,” he whispers.
“Apart from your T-shirt.”
“That can be fixed.”
Following a small struggle (and not much resistance on my part), Dylan pulls his T-shirt over my head. Then before I have a chance to protest, his mouth is back on my breasts and hand sliding along my backside.
*****
Something changed. We move from uneasy edging around the unspoken truth about the lust we share for each other to a comfort in each other’s skin.
But he still hasn’t taken his jeans off and by now I’m embarrassing myself with the obsessive need to see him without jeans. Touch and feel… I blink. No.
There was a suggestion he might follow me into the shower, but following a lot of grumbling at himself, Dylan declined. As I washed myself, and brushed the extra sensitivity lingering from our night and morning together, I fought the desire to go back and drag him in with me.
As I dress, I hear his shower running and if I had more brazen hussy and less cautious girl inside, I might have snuck in.
Instead, I tramp downstairs and pour cornflakes.
The Dylan who appears downstairs, freshly shaven and smelling of spices from his shower, is a man I could spend all day in bed with. This is a relaxed, happy and open guy. The tiredness in his features has ebbed, and this morning it’s as if the worry has flowed away completely. The loosened shoulders and bright face take some of the age away from Dylan.
He crosses the room and slides long fingers beneath my chin, kissing me softly. “Mmm. Cornflakes, I’ll have some.”
I push the packet towards him, spooning another mouthful because I’m los
t at what to say.
He takes the box in his ringed fingers, and the everyday sound of cereal hitting the bowl enters the not-so-everyday world we’ve pulled ourselves further into.
“So you want me take you out somewhere?” he asks.
I choke on my cereal. “I was joking about the date. I thought you were in hiding.”
“I’m going to prove to you I want to date you. We need to go in your car though, if it’s still drivable?”
“You mean since that arrogant dickhead ploughed into the back? I drove off remember?”
The one remaining cloud clears from his face. “Yeah. Why did you drive off?”
“I thought you had a gun.”
Dylan snorts. “Really?”
“Really. Now where are we going?”
Chapter Thirteen
We climb into my car, Dylan looking completely out of place scrunched up on my tattered passenger seat. He pokes around in the footwell with his toe.
“You have a lot of books here.”
“I always forget to take them out of the car.”
“I can’t remember the last time I read a book. I should.” He picks one up and stares at the man on the cover whose physique matches his, “Maybe not one of these.”
“No, these are probably not your thing.”
He flicks the pages, thankfully not opening to read one. “Or are there some tips for me in here?”
Last night… “I doubt you need sex tips.”
His eyes widen. “Oh! So they are porn?”
“No!” Much.
“I meant tips on how men should behave,” he teases. “I could learn how to treat you nicely?”
The contradiction in this situation is the guys like him in my books are more on the ‘bad’ end of the scale - and that’s what I like about them. But no way am I telling Dylan this fact.
“So where are you taking me?” he asks.
“Where do you want to go?”
Dylan pauses and taps the dashboard. “Somewhere I wouldn’t usually go.”
“And away from the general public I suppose?”
Summer Sky: A Blue Phoenix Book Page 9