Summer Sky (12 page)

"Can I kiss you again?"

"I think you're right; you do need to find a new way to relate to women," I say breathlessly.

Pressing himself between my legs, hard muscled thigh against mine, Dylan pulls my hair into a ponytail and wraps it around his hand. "Currently, this is the only way I know how." Placing his mouth softly on mine, he runs his tongue lightly across my lips, setting a soft buzz across my face.

"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 his 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.