Color of Forgiveness (18 page)

Her eyes trail further down, her heart
racing when she sees his length lying against his stomach hard and
ready for her. Crawling back onto his lap, she straddles him,
rubbing her wetness against his erection and letting him feel what
he does to her. A deep, throaty groan escapes his lips as his
fingers dig into her hips. She leans forward a bit more, letting
his tip nestle against her warmth. Dylan's forehead falls against
her shoulder, all of his breath leaving his mouth in a huge
gust.

“
Fuck
,” he moans as she slides down,
taking him all the way in.

She begins making love to him, hoping that
every touch she gives him, every kiss, every stroke can express
what she feels. He's so, so close to her while her heart pounds
like drums in her chest. He must feel it… how can he not? A
shuddering breath escapes her lips as she lets her face fall into
the crook of his neck.

His hands run over her breasts, along the
curve of her waist and down her back. They’re gentle and soft but
full of want and need at the same time. He meets her, thrust for
thrust.

“I… I can’t hold on much longer,” he grunts
as he presses a hand between them and begins rubbing against
her.

She can't hold on much longer either. “Oh,
god,” she whispers in between pants against his neck, and within
moments, she shatters and falls apart around him.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbles as his fingers dig
tighter into her hips. Unable to keep her pace as she rides out her
orgasm, she falls against his chest, but Dylan increases his
thrusts going faster and harder. His skin feels hot against hers.
Her mouth lingers on his collarbone, kissing and softly biting it.
At last, he tumbles over the edge, grunting and pulsing inside of
her, mumbling curses into her hair.

They both lay panting, unable to move.
Making love to Dylan was far beyond anything she could have ever
imagined. And it was exactly that… making love. Could he feel it?
Does he realize what he means to her?

She stays on his chest, still connected to
him, not moving and completely lost in him. She loves hearing his
heavy breathing and listening to his racing heartbeat gradually
slow down. Finally, she gathers the courage to push herself off of
his chest. As she lifts her face to his, her eye catches Dylan’s
collarbone.

“Oh, no,” she mumbles, her fingers touching
his discolored skin.

“What?”

“I gave you a hickey.”

Dylan chuckles and pushes her hair behind
her ear and touches her cheek. His hand moves down her neck. “Uh, I
hate to tell you this,” he says with a smug grin, “but I gave you
one right here.” His finger rubs a spot on her neck. “So we’ll call
it even… but feel free to give me hickeys anywhere you want, my
body is yours.”

Something about that simple sentence tugs on
her heart. She wants him to be hers, all of him. But not just his
body; she wants his heart as well. She stares into his eyes for a
long moment and sees no teasing in his expression. With a soft
sigh, she caresses his cheek before laying her head back down on
his chest.

Dylan’s fingers lazily move up and down her
back. Ever so softly, she kisses his chest, wishing they could stay
like this forever.

* * *

He shouldn't still want her. Their
lovemaking earlier should’ve been enough. The way she sat in his
lap, her legs straddling him, the way she looked into his eyes and
ran her hands through his hair. The way she fell apart in his arms,
moaning his name. But he’s a greedy bastard and wants more. It's
never enough with Myra. Dylan finds her skin to be so fucking
addictive; he can’t get enough of how soft and small she feels in
his arms.

Thankfully Myra doesn't seem to mind his
insatiable appetite. Pinned on the couch underneath him, he can
feel her smiling through their heated kisses. He's being a little
rough, but he can't seem to stop himself. Slipping his hand down,
he pulls her thigh up around his hip, spreading her open for him.
Just as the tip of his cock touches the warm place between her
legs, someone bangs loudly on the front door. Myra lets out a
muffled scream against his mouth.

“
Jesus Christ,”
he shouts, the knock
scaring the shit out of him. He whips his head towards the door.
“Who the fuck is that?”

“Oh my god, it’s probably Jackie,” Myra
mumbles as she pushes on his chest. He stands and Myra leaps from
the couch, searching for her clothes.

“Goddamn it,” he mutters as he tugs on his
jeans.

He hands Myra her bra and sweater as he
grabs his shirt. They both frantically look around to make sure no
articles of clothing got left behind. The pounding on the door
continues as Myra hurries towards it. She peeks out and turns her
head towards him. “It’s Jackie,” she confirms before opening
it.

Jackie’s eyes dart between them before
narrowing slightly.

Myra clears her throat. “Hi,” she says
quietly before looking quickly at Dylan and back at Jackie.

Jackie continues studying them for a moment.
“Were you guys just…?” She shivers and throws one hand up, her
other hand holding a plastic bag. She shakes her head vehemently
with a repulsed look on her face. “Yuck. Don’t say a word because I
do
not
want to know. You guys are disgusting,” she mumbles
as she marches past Myra and into the house.

“Dylan,” Jackie says in a flat voice as her
lips form a grim line.

Dylan tries not to roll his eyes and manages
to give her a nod.

Jackie turns to Myra and shakes her head.
“I’m going to pretend none of that just happened. Here’s your
mail,” she says, shoving the grocery bag at her.

“Thanks,” Myra says as she sets it to the
side.

“That’s what friends are for,” Jackie says
before immediately grabbing Myra in a hug. “I missed you
so
much. It’s been so boring around here without you. How’s Susie? Oh,
that’s a dumb question because I know how she’s not doing well with
everything she’s been through. Bless her heart. I really miss her.
I hope she gets to come visit you again soon so we can all hang out
again. We had so much fun together.”

Dylan sits down on the couch and Myra sits
next to him as Jackie’s mouth continues to run. Not really
listening, his phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his pocket and
sees Ray’s number on the caller ID. Figuring he must be calling
about the disposal, he silences the phone and decides to call him
back tomorrow.

“You know, Myra, I got to thinking after we
hung up earlier and I remembered something,” Jackie says and
Dylan’s ears perk up. He tucks his phone away and looks up at her.
“Well, I take that back. I actually didn’t remember it until I was
driving down the street tonight and was almost in the driveway, and
that’s when it suddenly came to me. It’s probably nothing but…”
Jackie looks up at the ceiling, the corner of her mouth twisting.
“Um… what day was it? I can’t remember… I think it was the day
after you left to go to Philadelphia.” Jackie looks at Myra. “Did
you leave on a Saturday?”

“Yeah,” Myra says.

“Okay, then it was that next morning because
I was going to sleep in and not go into the bookstore until later.
I had trouble sleeping the night before and ended up sleeping on
the couch but something woke me up. It sounded like a car door
slamming. I jumped up all ticked off because I thought it was…
Dylan again,” she says, looking over at Dylan and shrugging.
“Sorry.”

She looks back at Myra. “Anyway, I looked
out the window, ready to give Dylan a piece of my mind and saw a
car driving off in the distance. I knew it wasn’t him because it
wasn’t a truck. I can’t believe I forgot about that, but I honestly
didn’t think it was any big deal at the time.”

Dylan frowns. “What color was the car? Did
you get a make and model?” he asks her.

“
No.
I wasn’t paying any attention. I
think it might have been a dark color… maybe black or dark blue…
but honestly I’m just guessing because I really don’t remember. I
didn’t think it was important.” She looks at Myra. “I’m really
sorry; I should’ve paid more attention.”

“It’s okay,” Myra says. “I’m sure it’s
nothing. It’s probably just a coincidence.”

“I hope so. Wow, we have so much catching up
to do,” she says. Her eyes move to Dylan and back to Myra. “Is he
staying?”

“Uh… no,” Myra says. Dylan turns to look at
her, his eyes narrowing.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says with
a small smile. “It’s just that you haven’t even been home yet. I’m
sure you need to unpack and have things you need to do.”

“No, I don’t. I can stay…”

“Oh, I can stay with her,” Jackie says in a
loud voice. Dylan gives her a look that basically says
fuck
off
. Jackie ignores him. “I’m actually a little freaked out
about someone hanging around here and don’t really want to be by
myself tonight anyway. This way we can keep each other company and
catch up on everything.”

“Sure. I think that sounds like a great
idea,” Myra says.

Dylan makes a grumbling sound. Myra reaches
for his hand and squeezes it. “I’ll be fine. She can stay with me
tonight. I know you have things to do.”

He scowls. “I think I should stay.”

“We’ll be fine,” Myra says.

“That’s right,” Jackie adds. “We’ll keep
each other safe.”

Dylan realizes he won’t be winning this
argument so he shakes his head and stands. He walks towards the
door and Myra follows him. “I still don’t think this is a good
idea,” he says to her in a low voice.

She smiles and touches his cheek. “I can
take care of myself.”

He continues to frown. “You’ll call me if
anything happens, right?”

“Of course… quit worrying.”

He takes in a deep breath. “I’ll be over
first thing in the morning to work on your locks.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll call you later to check on you, all
right?” he says before running the back of his finger down her
cheek. Myra’s lips curl upward at his touch, and he can’t help but
lean down and put a soft kiss on them. He ignores Jackie as she
yells out, “
Gross
,” in the background.

“Be safe and lock the deadbolts,” he
whispers. She nods and touches his cheek softly.

Once outside, he blows out a heavy breath
and pulls out a cigarette. He can’t believe he just got tossed out
on his ass by none other than Jackie. Irritated, he walks around
the perimeter of the house and garage again, checking all of the
locks one more time and looking for anything out of the ordinary.
After making sure the house is secure as it can be, he reluctantly
gets into his truck and heads home.

When he opens the front door to his house,
he crinkles his nose up in disgust. It smells like shit. Something
has to be rotting somewhere. He tosses his carry-on bag to the
couch and opens the windows to try to let some of the smell out.
After lighting up another cigarette, he grabs a beer and flops on
the couch.

Taking a drink, he looks around at the piles
of clothes and random tools everywhere. He doesn’t know why he
never bothers to clean up. He doesn’t live like a fucking slob on
purpose. He’s just never given a shit about it. But now... a frown
crosses his face when he thinks about Myra. Thank goodness she
didn’t come in that day she stopped by. She’d never believe he
lived in such a dump. But she’s going to see it at some point; he
did ask her out on a date. No way in hell can he bring her here
with it looking the way it does right now.

He takes another drink of his beer and
decides that he’ll start trying to clean it up some. It should be a
fucking breeze considering the fact that he could build a house
from the foundation up. After finishing his beer, he starts hauling
tools from the living room into his garage. After an hour or so has
gone by, he pulls out his phone and calls Myra.

“Hi,” she answers softly.

“Hey. Is Jackie driving you up the fucking
wall yet?”

“Yes,” she says with a giggle.

“Any creepers hanging around that I’m gonna
have to beat the shit out of?”

“No…” she says, laughing softly. “No
creepers.”

“Good. You call me if you see or hear
anything, all right?”

“I will.”

“Now if I remember correctly, I think you
agreed to go out on a date with some lucky ass contractor…”

She laughs lightly. “Oh, yeah, I do vaguely
recall something like that…”

“Well, how about if that lucky ass
contractor picks you up at seven on Saturday?”

“Hmm… I
might
be available, but I’ll
have to check my calendar first because I stay pretty busy,” she
says. “What should I wear?”

“Well, considering the lucky ass contractor
will be picking you up in a nasty ass work truck, I think jeans
will be fine.”

“Okay. I can’t wait.”

“Me either. I’ll see you in the morning.
Good night, Myra.”

“Good night.”

As Dylan hangs up his phone, he can’t seem
to wipe the grin off of his face. He still has no idea what to do
for their date, but he’ll figure that shit out later. Even though
his back hurts like hell, he goes back to cleaning his filthy
house. With only two days until their date and his plans to work on
Myra’s house tomorrow, if he doesn’t get started on it now, he’ll
never get it done.

Three hours later, Dylan strips down to his
boxers and falls into bed exhausted. He has a whole new
appreciation for the hell women go through to keep a house clean.
He found the source of the smell in the house; it was a slice of
moldy pizza that somehow found a new home behind his couch. There
was just so much shit in piles everywhere that he ended up bagging
up the majority of it and tossing the bags into his basement just
to get them out of the way. He’ll just have to make certain Myra
doesn’t go anywhere near that basement.

Before he dozes off, he tries to come up
with something to do on their date, but falls asleep before any
ideas hit him.