Dylan: The Sons of Dusty Walker (9 page)

“Then what the hell are ya waiting for?” she gasped in return. “Git to it.”

His laugh sending shivers skating across her skin, he pinned her to his chest and back-walked her to the built-in breakfast nook in the corner of the room. He hoisted her onto the table, his expression ravenous. She swerved her focus to the kitchen entry. “Push one of the chairs against the door.” A typical nap for Hunter usually meant he’d be sawing logs for a minimum of ninety minutes. They should be safe, but she wouldn’t risk their son waking up and wandering in to bust them in the act.

Dylan went to do her bidding and she quickly shimmied out of her shorts and panties. He turned back in her direction and wheezed out a breath. Self-conscious and acutely aware of the extra padding she’d accumulated since the last time he saw her naked, she hugged her chest. “W-what is it?”

“
Goddamn
, you are beautiful. I know I said it before, but it bears repeatin’ at least a thousand more times.”

Happiness rushed through her, banishing her lingering insecurities. It wasn’t so much the words that did it—though Lord knows they were lovely to hear. No, it was the way Dylan looked at her. Like she truly was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She didn’t like to think of herself as a vain person. If anything, she tended to neglect her appearance, deeming makeup and such a pain in the rear end most days. But she wanted to be pretty in Dylan’s eyes. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that.

She held out her arms to him and he responded to the summons by crossing the room with a purposeful gleam igniting his gaze. Even the way he moved reminded her of a big jungle cat stalking its prey. Only
she
was the meal he planned on savoring.

Skin hot and prickly, she waited for him to pounce. Infinitely more graceful than that, he insinuated himself between her legs and combed his fingers through her hair before twisting the strands with one hand, forcing her neck to arch. The possessive dominance in the maneuver turned her insides to mush. Quivering, she bowed her back, desperately trying to press her lips to his. He teased her relentlessly, offering her the tiniest brush of his mouth. A slight graze of the tip of his tongue on hers. She begged him with her eyes, and he pulled her hair with a firmer grip, the sting shooting right to her core. His head dipped and he slid a kiss along her neck, his teeth scraping ever so lightly.

The sensory overload proved too much to take. Nails digging into his biceps, she shuddered and gasped, the inescapable orgasm spiraling through her in rippling waves.

Dylan lifted his head, disbelief in his hazel eyes. “Baby, did you just—”

“Y-yes.” She buried her face in his shirt to hide her embarrassment. “It’s been a while. You overwhelmed me is all.”

He released her hair and caressed her cheeks. “You are the hottest fucking thing alive. Don’t ever be ashamed of grasping that pleasure.”

“I’m not. I just wish I’d held out a while longer.”

“Why? Hungry to feel my big ole cock inside you, ya insatiable hussy?” He grunted in response to rightfully getting his nipple tweaked over his impertinence. “Would that be a yes or a no?”

Rather than answer, she unbuckled his belt and toggled his zipper down. Holding his transfixed stare, she slipped her hand past the waistband of his jockeys and caressed his rigid length. He pulsed, thickening in her grasp. A quiver ran through his belly, his washboard abs tensing. Breathing shaky, he closed his eyes and groaned. “I’ve missed the way you touch me.”

No more than she’d missed getting to explore every hard inch of him. And God, was he hard. The contrast of his velvet-soft smoothness was a marvelous thing. How could a man be made of silk and steel? It really was a wonder. She peeled his briefs down, freeing his gorgeous cock so she could properly appreciate the generous gift she was holding. And that’s precisely what it was—a glorious package perfectly designed for her pleasure. Stroking his fat shaft, she wiggled sideways, fully intending to plant a kiss right on that glossy crown.

He gripped her upper arms, halting her progress. “Nu huh, darlin’. No way you’re getting a taste before I’ve gotten mine.”

His features set in determination, he pushed her flat on the table and snagged the nearby ladder-back chair with his boot. Sitting his butt on the rush-woven seat, he draped her legs over his shoulders and slid his hands to her hips. The first swirl of his tongue on her clit had her white-knuckling the edge of the table. The man had moved beyond maestro. There wasn’t even a title fitting for the level of his prowess now. He shifted the placement of his right hand and used his thumb to hold back the hood protecting the bundle of nerves he was devastating. Over and over he swabbed her with his tongue, until she was panting and writhing. She reflexively squeezed her legs together, the tantalizing scruff of his beard stubble abrading her inner thighs pushing her closer to the peak. “D-Dylan, I’m g-gonna come again.”

His heated gaze met hers while he continued eating her pussy, and the intimacy of the moment lit the final fuse to her climax. A choked cry clogging in her throat, she broke apart on his tongue, his ceaseless lapping triggering endless aftershocks. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, he wrenched his mouth free and fumbled with his jeans, rucking them down enough that no vital parts would get snagged in the zipper. He dug his wallet from his pocket and fetched a foiled packet from one of the compartments.

She stared at the condom, her mind returning to the last one that’d failed to prevent Hunter’s conception.

Dylan must have read something in her eyes that gave away her thoughts because he stalled in the act of ripping the packet open with his teeth. “I can double up if you’re worried about it breaking.”

She shook her head. “My gynecologist put me on birth control after Hunter finished breast feeding.”

“You’re still on it?”

She released a wobbly breath. “Yeah. I’ve had no need for it, but I like the sense of security it gives me anyways.”

Dylan lowered the packet. “I can still wear the condom if it’ll make you more comfortable.”

She had to ask the question. It would be irresponsible not to. “Are you good about wearing them?”

“I’ve never not worn one. But I’d like to forgo it—with you—if you’re okay with that.”

She scooted from the table and straddled his lap. Stroking the planes of his cheeks, she nodded. He leaned forward to kiss her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. As his tongue played over the tip of hers she reached between them and lifted herself up slightly. Guiding the engorged head of his cock, she rubbed the tumescent gland along the slickened folds of her labia. Their mutual groans blended as one. Slipping her free hand to his nape, she eased herself over his shaft and slowly sank down on his thick girth. That initial penetration sent a shudder through both of them.

Tearing his mouth from hers, Dylan swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You feel fuckin’ amazing.” His gaze full of wonder, he flexed his hips, retreating slightly before sinking in another inch. “So wet, warm, and tight. Like your pussy is giving me an incredible blow job.”

She chuckled. “I can see why they don’t let you write the songs.”

His grin making her about a hundred times wetter, he pulled her closer and growled against her neck. “I’m good at other things.”

He showed her that firsthand by pumping inside her with one powerful, smooth glide that lodged him to the hilt. Gasping, she gripped the back of the chair and tried to chase down her breath. Refusing to give her time to recover, he slid his hands underneath her ass and rolled his hips, driving into her with a steady, rocking rhythm that slowly annihilated her senses. Biting her lip, she ground into his thrusts, each corkscrew motion of her hips creating a decadent friction between the base of his cock and her clit. His fingers tightened on her flesh. “Yes, baby, ride me just like that. I want you to fuckin’ lose it on my cock.”

She whimpered, all too ready to give into his desire. Releasing the chair, she dug her fingers into the meat of his shoulders and bounced on him harder, faster, until she was practically slamming her pussy down onto the fat, rigid shaft providing her so much ecstasy. Judging from Dylan’s strained, sweat-sheened features, he was right there in the zone with her. But she wanted to give him the pinnacle of pleasure. She wanted him to fall through that wall of rapture alongside her. She squeezed her inner muscles, milking him for all she was worth.

A curse hissing between his teeth, he pumped one last time and lodged deep inside her, the pulse of his release beckoning her into the eye of the storm. She flew higher and higher into the brilliant light before shattering into a million pieces of bliss.

Shivering through the aftershocks, she slumped in Dylan’s arms. He held her close, gently easing her back to a state of clear-headedness with soothing strokes along her spine. His muffled chuckle hummed across her scalp. “What in the tarnation are you exercising your kegels with? The Kegelator?”

She snorted. “I’m impressed you know what they’re called.”

“Hell, I aced anatomy.”

Oh Lord. There was something that didn’t surprise her in the least.

CHAPTER EIGHT

He could get used to this. Spending the evening with Zoe and Hunter—the two people quickly becoming the center of his universe—yeah, it felt like he was right where he needed to be.

Tucking his son closer to his side on the couch, Dylan slid a look over his shoulder to see what Zoe was up to. “Hey, you’re missing Scooby Doo.”

“Trust me, I’ve seen that video a million and one times,” she called back from the vicinity of the kitchen. “Besides, you can’t watch the main feature without popcorn, you silly man.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I am kinda hungry from someone wearing me out earlier.”

Her snort was easily detectible even with the wall separating them. “Guess you won’t be up for
napping
with me later then, huh?”

Oh hell. No way he was getting deprived of nap time. He just hoped that was innuendo for hot bath time fun. Minus G.I. Joe. “I’m always
up
for any occasion with you, darlin’.”

“So I’ve noticed.” The sound of her shuffling around in the kitchen preceded the ding of the microwave timer. A few minutes later she stepped into the living room carrying a big bowl of the fragrant popcorn.

He was suddenly ravenous. And not necessarily for food. She was so damn scrumptious, it was a miracle he wasn’t a constant walking boner advertisement. It didn’t help that every time he looked at her he was reminded of her sweet pussy clinging to him tighter than one of those Chinese finger puzzles. And getting to feel her bare?
Damn.
Talk about mind blowing.

Okay, he needed to put a pause on those thoughts if he didn’t want to be dealing with blue balls until
nap
time.

Zoe curled up on the other side of Dylan and placed the bowl of popcorn in his lap. She leaned sideways and snatched a handful of the salty snack, her movements squishing her breasts right to his chest. Gauging from the way her lips twitched, she knew full well how much she was tormenting him right then. “What’s the matter? You look a little flustered.”

“What time does the little guy usually go to bed?”

She snickered. “Someone sounds like they’re ready for an early nap.”

Fuck yeah.
He gave her a pleading puppy dog stare and she shook her head, instantly dashing any hope of that happening sooner rather than later. Resigning himself to his sad fate, he scooped up his own handful of popcorn and munched along with the cheery soundtrack to the cartoon on the boob tube.

The next three hours were the best agonizing three hours of his life. His overwhelming desire for Zoe was a constant presence, but getting to spend the evening with her and Hunter next to his side was something he’d never take for granted.

Against his will, his thoughts drifted to the scrapbooks he’d found in his dad’s safe last night. How many times had Dusty sat in his office alone and thumbed through those pages, wishing for a simpler life where he didn’t have to settle for faded memories?

His mind traversed his own mental snapshots from his childhood until a particular one stood out brighter than the others. He’d been about six, and it was a couple weeks following Christmas—just one of the many holidays he hadn’t been able to spend with Dusty. But that particular Christmas had seemed harder to bear than the others for some reason he couldn’t recall. Even the coveted Schwinn that’d awaited him under the tree hadn’t pulled him from his moodiness. Georgianna had been worried sick about his quiet withdrawal. The next day he woke up to his dad sitting next to him on the twin bed. Despite being jetlagged from his red-eye, Dusty had spent the entire day teaching Dylan how to ride his new bike. The next morning they’d watched cartoons together exactly like Dylan had with Hunter. Hell, it’d probably been Scooby Doo. That one had been his favorite growing up too. Dusty left two days later, but not before giving Dylan a fierce bear hug that’d brought them both to tears.

Shit.
Blinking against the phantom wetness dampening his eyes, he stretched his arms over his head and covertly brushed his sleeve across his face. That should take care of any embarrassing offenders sneaking loose on him.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied, not liking the huskiness in his voice.

Zoe stroked his arm, her expression concerned. “I’ll put Hunter in bed and be right back.”

“I can do it.” Not giving her the chance to beat him to the task, he scooped his son up and carried him down the hall to his bedroom. He tucked him in tight and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m never settling for scrapbook pictures.” Whispering that plea as much for his benefit as Hunter’s, he straightened and pivoted. He hesitated at the sight of Zoe watching him from the doorway.

Swallowing past the thick emotion in his throat, he stepped to her and took her hand in his. “I could really use that naptime now.”

Nodding, she led him upstairs to her bedroom. The space upstairs had been converted into an entire master suite. He took in the massive sleigh bed and deemed it mighty cozy looking with its piles of pillows and fluffy comforter. A door stood across from them. More than likely the bathroom. Twining her fingers with his, she escorted him in that direction. They stepped inside and his suspicions were confirmed. She dropped his hand and sashayed to the claw foot tub big enough for two. He stared at the delicate curve of her spine as she bent over to flick on the faucets. Dropping his gaze to her heart-shaped ass, he licked his lips.

She glanced over her shoulder and caught him ogling her. Her smile saucy, she hooked her thumbs in her shorts and inched them down like she was the leading star of his private peep show. She stepped out of the frayed denim and employed the same slower than molasses removal of her panties. By the time the lacy scrap of fabric dropped to the braided rug in front of the tub his mouth was dry and his cock was giving a stiff salute against his zipper. She peeled her top off and tossed it aside. Sliding her hands along the enticing swell of her hips, she turned to face him fully. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

He’d never in a million years get tired of looking at her luscious body. He’d always preferred a woman with some curves, and
goddam
, she had them in spades. In addition to that booty that made him sweat, her breasts were a generous handful, with ripe, firm nipples that were just begging to be kissed. The gentle bump of her tummy led down to the treasure trove that awaited him between her legs. Her neatly trimmed landing strip of pale blonde fuzz brought a grin to his lips.
Not a natural blonde, my ass.
Shame on him for falling for that for even one second.

She twisted the bath faucets off. Perching her fanny on the lip of the tub, she tossed him a challenging stare. “Your turn, cowboy.”

“Yeah, you want me to strip for you?” He was probably gonna suck so hard at this, but who cared. He was Zoe’s willing slave. He’d do anything she wanted.

“Yup. So git to it.”

He unbuckled his belt and eased his zipper down, freeing up some much needed space. He opted not to remove his jeans yet. While it’d been sexy as hell watching Zoe leave her top for last, he had a feeling he’d look dopey trying that tactic. He tugged his T-shirt off and was rewarded for his decision to go that route when Zoe bit her lip. Her gaze eating him alive, she stared at his chest. A fluttery sigh passed her lips. Encouraged by her response, he shucked his jeans down. Thank Christ he’d had the foresight to remove his boots earlier. Nothing ruined the mood faster than trying to look sexy and
not
falling on his ass in the process of shucking his footwear.

The only article of clothing left was his jockeys. Given the fact his dick was pretty much busting out of them, not much point in delaying the prison break. He dragged the garment off and kicked it toward his discarded jeans.

Zoe’s focused glued to his cock. “Oh. My.”

“I take it you like?”

“Very.” Her breath tighter than her nipples, she crooked her finger and beckoned him closer.

Gladly accepting the invitation, he moseyed toward her. When he was roughly a foot in front of her she halted his progress with a hand pressed against his belly. Even that simple touch was enough to curl his toes. She looked up at him, her expression sultry. “I do believe I’m owed a taste.”

He shuddered in anticipation. She dropped onto her knees and boldly caressed his length before ducking her head. Her tongue flattened against the base of his cock and slowly cruised upward, following the main vein all the way to the grooved indent beneath the crown. Encircling his shaft with her fingers, she licked his swollen gland, her saliva quickly blending with the precome pearling from his slit. She opened wider and slid her entire mouth around him. He groaned, his fingers sifting through her hair. Jacking him with her hand, she swallowed him deeper, her hungry moan vibrating along his flesh. If she kept that up he’d never last long enough to give her a dozen or more orgasms.

And God knows that’s what he wanted to do. More than anything.

He gently pulled her off of him and coaxed her to stand. Tunneling his fingers through her hair, he explored her mouth with a lazy kiss, the taste of himself on her tongue stoking his hunger. She wiggled against him, the brush of her nipples on his overheated skin driving him crazy. Her hand ghosted below his navel but he caught it before it could close around his cock. He nipped her bottom lip in warning and kissed the sting away. Squeezing her fingers, he helped her into the tub and climbed in behind her. A groan fell from him at the muscle-relaxing warmth surrounding him. That sensation was usurped by Zoe settling in his lap, her lush bottom grazing his super-sensitized cockhead.

Sliding his arms around her, he cupped her breasts, his fingertips feathering over her nipples. She arched into him and he kissed her neck, basking in the shiver that trembled through her. He slipped his hand between her legs, seeking out the tiny nub that provided such a powerhouse to her pleasure. Easing back the hood of her clit, he swirled a light figure-eight over the swollen bud. Her fingers curled around the edge of the tub, her breath quickening.

“Feel good, darlin’?”

“Oh God, you have no idea.”

“Mm, not necessarily. Your mouth and your pussy gives me that same kind of heaven when they’re wrapped around me.”

“I-I want to give that to you. Right now.”

The cramped quarters of the tub made her suggestion challenging, but not impossible. Lifting her slightly, he positioned her on the tip of his cock. She scooted up higher and hung her legs over the side of the tub. That freed up plenty of room and he was able to glide inside her effortlessly. Continuing to caress her clit, he pumped into her slowly, wanting the hot, sensuous moment to last forever. He was strung out on bliss, lost in the warm, wet, delicious snugness of her pussy rippling around him.

“S-so good, Dylan.”

“I know, baby. For me too.”

He was desperate to string the sensations to the max, but already he could detect the looming presence of his release waiting in the wings. There was no way he was coming without her. No damn way. Increasing his thrusts until the water sloshed around them, he stroked her clit firmer, faster, until he hit the chord he’d been chasing. She arched with a strangled cry, her pussy cinching him tight. Her climax was enough to trigger his. Groaning her name against her steam-dampened shoulder, he throbbed and thickened inside her, blood rushing through his head as his orgasm slammed into him.

Gasping for breath, they both slowly surfaced from the afterglow. He hugged her to him, his heart stuttering. He couldn’t deny it anymore. He was head over boot heels in love with her. She’d stolen a piece of his heart four years ago. He hadn’t fully comprehended the depths of his emotional connection and the deep void inside him until he’d seen her again at the pharmacy. It was patently clear now.

She laced her fingers with his and kissed his knuckles. “I could stay like this forever.”

“Me too.” Holding her in his arms for a lifetime? Nothing would complete him more.

Tucking the back of her head against his collar bone, she sighed. “Of course, we’d get awfully pruny and folks would eventually mistake us for weird water aliens.”

“Yeah. Damn pruny skin ruining everything.”

She scooched forward and pulled the plug on the drain, sending the water on its merry way. He folded his arms behind his head, enjoying the view she provided as she stood up in the tub and snatched a towel from the nearby peg. Wrapping the terry cloth around her, she glanced down at him and snorted. “Does that thing ever shut off?”

He eyed the stiffening status of his cock. “Nope. Not where you’re concerned.”

“Let me at least have a nap first. A
real
one.”

Chuckling, he waited for her to vacate the tub before hefting to his feet and accepting the spare towel she tossed to him. He briskly dried himself off and trailed her to the bed. They climbed in and he snuggled her against his chest again. He stroked her hair, content to just touch her in this simple way.

A soft exhale floated from her. “This is nice. I’ve missed being held.”

He traced the gentle slope of her shoulder with his knuckles, regret a crushing weight on his sternum. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me.”

“You keep saying that. You don’t have to. There’s nothing to apologize for.”