by Parker Swift
“Come with me, baby,” he whispered sweetly. He worked us both up and over the edge, and I reached above and behind me, putting my hands into his hair and pulling his face over my shoulder to bring him closer. It was the first time that it almost felt more like making love than fucking. There was no doubt in my mind that there was no other place he’d rather be.
He stayed in me for a long moment and then slowly withdrew to dispose of the condom. When he returned, he held me just as close. Even though the sun was beginning to creep through the windows, he whispered, “Sleep, baby. Sleep,” and we drifted back off together.
* * *
When I woke again, Dylan was sitting in bed next to me, working on his laptop. There was a coffee and a croissant on the bedside table. I pushed myself up, and started to take the covers with me. Dylan closed his laptop firmly, placing it next to him on the bed, and swiftly yanked the covers down from my chest. “No covering up.” And he pulled the covers away from my bottom half as well, staring appreciatively. “Especially now that you’re waxed.” He was grinning.
I hit him with a pillow. “Dylan!”
He tried to duck and block me with his forearm, but I got him square in the forehead, and Dylan Hale actually giggled. “I like you here in my room. Completely starkers,” he said, smiling, observing. “How do you feel?” He reached over and handed me my coffee.
“Fine, actually.” Which I didn’t deserve after last night. “What time is it?” I asked.
“Twenty past eleven.” He replied, looking at his large gold watch, which by the looks of it had probably cost more than my college education. “Why? Have any plans I don’t know about?”
“No.” I wrapped my hands around the warm mug, and looked over to the Adonis next to me. “So now that you have me here, with no clean clothes, what are you going to do with me?”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll think of something.” Just then his home phone started ringing, and he reached to pick it up, giving me the universal shush sign, a finger to his lips. Obviously I was not supposed to be here.
“Yes…Good morning, Thomas.” He sounded irritated to have been pulled away. “It’s not a good time…He wants to meet today? Did you ask if it could wait until Monday?…I see.” He rolled his eyes, at poor Thomas presumably, and not at me. “Wait, what?…Goddammit. Fine. Tell him I’ll be there…The Goring, twelve thirty. Thank you, Thom—…What?” Clearly poor Thomas had more than one message to deliver. “Tristan Bailey called again? Fuck that weasel…No, no, I’ll deal with it.” He looked at his watch and sighed.
He put down the phone and looked at me. “Well, we don’t have as much time as I thought, baby. I’m sorry. I have a command performance work lunch in just over an hour.” I could feel my frown settle in. He returned to the bed, leaned over to me, and brushed my lips with his thumb. “Don’t worry, I’m going to make good use of this hour. Lean back against the headboard.” Who needed coffee when I had Dylan barking orders that set every cell in my body on fire? I immediately complied as I readied myself for whatever kinky sexual foray he had planned for me.
Dylan fluffed the pillows behind me. He slid up next to me and pulled the duvet over our laps—what happened to being starkers? He put my own coffee back in my hands, and then he reached over to his bedside table and grabbed the Saturday papers and began rifling through them.
I was looking at him, confused, my coffee cup frozen in my hand, when he looked back to me and asked, “What?”
“Um…Nothing, I guess. I just assumed ‘making good use of this hour’ was going to involve some orgasms.”
He smiled broadly. “Later. I can’t remember the last time I lazed in bed with the papers, and I’ve never done that with a gorgeous naked woman next to me.”
I smiled at him, loving this new side of Dylan Hale. “Hand me the Guardian.”
After indulging in our domesticity for as long as we could, we showered and I began getting ready to go home. I was standing by the bed, untangling my rumpled dress, when I felt his damp warm body right behind me.
“Now, before you get dressed, come here.” He urged me closer to the bed and leaned into my back with his chest. “Forearms on the bed, and present that pretty ass to me, Lydia. I’ve got something for you.” I knew that tone of voice, and the something he had for me probably, hopefully, involved moaning, begging, and a handful of oh gods.
“Don’t you have to be somewhere?”
“Lydia,” he said in a warning tone. I sighed and did as I was told. A moment later, I felt the spread of warm lube beginning to run between my cheeks. I gasped, and Dylan began to run his fingers down the crack until he found my anal opening. “I’m going to put this plug back in you, baby, and you’re going to wear it all day, and think of me. Understand?”
Holy shit. Was he serious? “Dylan…I—” Was I even going to be able to walk with it in?
He must have been able to hear my concern, because he reassured me. “It’s going to feel good, baby.” He was working the opening with his finger, and then the tip of the plug. “Breathe, Lydia, just relax. Trust me.” I breathed deeply, closed my eyes, and opened myself up to it, and he worked the plug in, in small thrusts. It felt so full, so intense. “Good girl. Now it stays there until I take it out.”
“You are one kinky bossy sex fiend, you know that?”
“I do, but I also know you’re totally into it,” he whispered in my ear from behind me.
* * *
Dylan dropped me at home before going to his lunch, and I spent the afternoon trying to distract myself from the foreign object up my ass, which was, much to my surprise, seriously turning me on. I’d been here two weeks, and I still hadn’t properly stocked the shelves or gotten fully settled. I put on a bra, finally, and headed to Sainsbury’s market, which thankfully was only a short walk away. I texted Dylan to let him know, in case he arrived while I was gone.
SATURDAY, 1:05 pm
Grocery store run.
SATURDAY, 1:07 pm
I doubt you’re running anywhere.
SATURDAY, 1:10 pm
Very funny.
SATURDAY, 1:11 pm
Making you wet though, isn’t it?
SATURDAY, 1:13 pm
I don’t need a butt plug for that.
SATURDAY, 1:15 pm
Don’t come without me, Lydia. That’s an order.
SATURDAY, 1:15 pm
I can’t believe I ever compared you to a knight in shining armor. Perv.
SATURDAY, 1:16 pm
I am actually knighted.
SATURDAY, 1:16 pm
Of course you are. Get your ass back on that horse and back to me asap, knighty.
SATURDAY, 1:16 pm
KNIGHTY? KNIGHTY?!
SATURDAY, 1:17 pm
You heard me.
SATURDAY, 1:17 pm
As soon as I can, damsel. Hold tight;-)
SATURDAY, 1:17 pm
Not funny
Chapter 28
An hour later, I had chopped the fruits and veggies and taken the first bite of my salad when I heard the front door open. I entered the front room to see Dylan, closing the door behind him.
“You need to lock the door, baby. I’d expect a Brooklyn girl to know that.”
“Maybe I was distracted.” A plug in the ass could do that to a girl.
“I’m not kidding, Lydia.” He really wasn’t. The look on his face said this wasn’t a joke to him.
“Ok. I’ll remember next time.”
“Good.” He exhaled and visibly relaxed, as though he could check that item off his list. “Now—” he was suddenly back in the moment “—come here.” Without hesitating, I walked directly into his arms. He reached behind me and, pulling up my skirt, brushed the end of the plug, pushing on it lightly, and I gasped in response. “How do you feel?”
“Full.”
“You’re about to feel fuller.” Oh my god. Was he really going to fuck me with the plug up my ass? He shed his jacket, placing it on a kitchen chair. “I’
ve been thinking about this for the past three hours, nothing else.”
He pulled my shirt over my head and unhooked my bra, leaving me only in my skirt. He grasped me under my arms and lifted me, spreading his large hands across my bare back. I wrapped my legs around his waist—it was habit now. He held me by my ass, his hands under my skirt, and carried me over to the couch.
He placed me down and quickly removed the rest of his clothing. He sat down, placed me on his lap, and pulled me in close, burying his face in my hair. “I missed you.” He said it as though he were surprised by it and wasn’t quite sure what to do with the information. Then he urged me up. “On your hands and knees, baby.” I did as I was told.
“I missed you too.” I said it to the sofa, almost embarrassed to look at him, feeling like I wasn’t supposed to have those feelings for him yet. Ever. He reached forward, grabbing my hair that had fallen in front of my face and tucking it behind my ear, and he placed a kiss on my cheek.
He climbed behind me on the sofa, and I heard him open a condom. He stroked my back once again, gliding his fingers over the end of the plug and then into the folds of my sex.
He lightly rubbed my entrance with the head of his cock, stroking, teasing. “This is going to be intense, baby. You’re tight without the plug, but with it, you’re going to be fucking majestic.” I was raw with desire—an afternoon of being teased and distracted by anticipation, and I was going to break the moment he entered me. He began to push into me, and I was completely overwhelmed. I hadn’t understood what he meant by tight, but I did now. I felt like I could barely accommodate him.
He slowly and deliberately sank into me. I had to get accustomed to the invasion, to his total possession. Slowly he began moving in deep leisurely thrusts. The feeling was exquisite, and my blood pumped at an almost musical beat. We found a rhythm, and I lost myself completely; the world, my house, everything but Dylan dropped away, and our bodies were completely in sync. A sweat broke out on my forehead and across my chest as I rocked into him, taking him fully and deeply. Each thrust came with a slight pain accompanying the increased pressure, but it was welcome—it accented the razor-sharp pleasure perfectly, marking my admission of him. I could feel every slight movement, as though we were making love in slow motion, and it felt shockingly intimate. That we were so in sync, so perfectly matched in our movements heightened everything that much more. The whole thing, this crazy heated dance, was more than the sum of us. His hands were stroking my sides and then gently palming my breasts. He was being so gentle, so slow. I felt his warm cheek against my back and a kiss before he rose again. I felt more vulnerable in this moment than I ever had before. My body began to quiver, quaking with the inevitable onslaught. His hips were meeting my ass with gentle pressure, and we could both hear my wetness with every tilt of his body. He picked up his pace, and my body rose with his.
“I can feel you perfectly. Come with me, baby. Come.” He was so quiet, as though anything greater than a whisper would have been more than either of us could handle, would have risked disrupting this moment. As we both collapsed into our orgasms, I arched my back, throwing my head up, trying to take him as far in as I could, trying to register every sensation. I was literally vibrating with pleasure. And he withdrew the plug at the peak of the riot, sending the waves of pleasure reverberating even further into my body. Being freed from that intrusion so suddenly, after hours, was a sensation unto itself. I fell back into him, the orgasm still sending ripples through me. He pulled back and entered me again, slowly but with determination, and he stilled, deeper than he had ever been.
My heart was still pounding in my chest, and I was reeling from what had just happened between us. He lightly kissed my back, and I was so comforted by his huge hands spread over my hips. He slowly withdrew, and taking both of us by surprise, I turned, pushing him against the arm of the sofa, and crawled frantically into his arms. I wanted nothing more than for all of us to be to touching in the wake of that intimacy. I needed my mouth on his. I kissed him aggressively, fanatically.
“Baby, are you ok?” He pulled me away and he saw the tears in my eyes.
“That was so intense, so…It was so unexpected, Dylan. I didn’t know I could feel this way.”
“Hush, baby. I know.” He stroked my hair. “I’m pushing you too hard.”
“No, no. I can’t get enough,” I cried as I buried my face in his neck.
Dylan removed his condom and then returned to me, reaching for a throw blanket and covering us, laying us down into an entangled mess. He stroked my back, and I felt myself calming down, but I still felt like somehow the sex we’d just had had stripped me bare and pushed my feelings for him to the surface. We were drifting off, just curled up into one another, and I wanted to tell him. I wanted him to know that I was falling for him, but I was too scared of those feelings to be honest about them with myself. I was too scared and too aware that it wouldn’t matter. I could feel my chest opening, my heart opening. I could feel myself wanting him in a way that scared the shit out of me. He was pulling me into a place where there was no hope, or all hope, I wasn’t even sure. Before I had the chance to overanalyze, we were in a deep nap.
* * *
I woke to his palm under my chin raising my sleepy face to his own, looking me in the eye. “Enough sleeping.”
I grabbed his wrist and looked at his watch; it was nearly six p.m. “Do you have to go anywhere?” I asked, hopeful that the answer was no.
“Nowhere but back in you.” I feigned shock, and he chuckled in response. “Not yet. Now, I’m hungry.”
I was struck by an idea. “Can I cook for you?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve just been grocery shopping.”
“Should I be worried?”
“No!” I slapped his chest playfully. “I’m a good cook. Just keep me company.”
I grabbed his blue button-down shirt from the floor and put it on, and I threw my hair into a ponytail with the tie around my wrist. I put some music on the radio and I went to work. He came into the kitchen, donning his briefs and nothing more, and leaned into one of the counters to watch me cook.
“Do you have any wine?” he asked, as he tapped his fingers against the lip of the counter.
“No, I’m sorry. I’m not well prepared for company I guess.” I shrugged apologetically. “Wanna go out and get some?”
“I’m enjoying watching you dance around this kitchen in my shirt way too much. I’ll have Lloyd go pick some up.”
I frowned. “Is that in his job description?”
“Baby, trust me, Lloyd is very well compensated. It’s all part of his job description.” He picked up his cell phone but then looked at me. “What are we eating?”
“Tagliatelle with prosciutto, parmesan, gruyere, and fresh peas.”
He raised his eyebrow at me, impressed, and turned into his phone and gave Lloyd a list of several bottles of wine to pick up.
I looked at him skeptically, my hand on my hip. “Are you going to get me drunk?”
He leaned across the counter and grabbed an apple out of a nearby bowl, chomping into it as though he was settling in for the show of watching me cook. “I might as well get you stocked.”
I came up to him at the counter, and he opened his chest, spread his arms, invited me in. The water was coming to a boil for the pasta, and my fingers were dusted with cheese. I leaned into him, soaking him up. He ran his fingers through my hair, and I buried my forehead into his chest. He was kissing me on the top of my head when the doorbell rang.
“That was fast,” I said, looking up at Dylan.
“That’s not Lloyd.” He looked down at me, almost as if to ask me to explain.
I shrugged my shoulders and moved to go answer the door.
“Uh, Lydia. You can’t answer the door like that.”
I looked down and was reminded that I wore nothing but Dylan’s dress shirt and laughed at the idea that I nearly answered the door that way. I ran upstairs and came back down, buttoning my jeans as I too
k the steps two at a time. The doorbell rang a third time. I peeked into the kitchen but didn’t see Dylan. He must have been hiding. I swung open the door and found myself face to face with Michael. Shit.
“Hello there, Lydia.” His smile was large. I felt naked, braless in Dylan’s oversized shirt and my just-fucked ponytail. “You obviously got home ok last night.”
I smiled and wrapped my arms around myself. “Yeah, no worries.” He made a move to come into the house, but I half closed the door. “I’d invite you in, but it’s actually not a great time.”
“Oh.” He stepped back. “Sorry, I just—”
“No, no.” I hated lying and felt bad kicking him out. “It’s just, I’m hungover, you know?” I tried to wipe the post-coital glow from my face and willed the dark circles under my eyes to get darker.
He looked relieved by my excuse, clearly buying it. “Totally understand. Shall we get dinner this week?” Double crap. This guy wasn’t going to give up, was he?
“I’d love to. We’ll make it happen.” I saw Michael opening his mouth, getting ready to try to firm up plans. “So I should go. I’m sorry. I’m meant to call a friend in the States in a few, and I really do feel under the weather.”
“Of course.” He stepped off my stoop. I feared I hadn’t been discouraging enough, but at least I was getting rid of him for the moment. “I’ll see you soon, Lydia.”
“Absolutely. Have a good night, Michael.” I closed the door behind him and leaned up against it, sighing from relief.
Dylan stepped out from the hallway. “Persistent lout, isn’t he?”
“He is.” I was relieved he was gone, happy to be getting back into my playful evening with Dylan.
But he was no longer playful. I was met with solemnity. “Let’s eat. We’re going to my place after dinner.”