Dylan: The Sons of Dusty Walker (11 page)

CHAPTER TEN

The Chateaubriand that she and Dylan shared at the Wooden Nickel was the most romantic treat she’d ever experienced. Of course, any meal with Dylan beside her was an instant recipe for romance. Rubbing her full belly, she groaned. “I’m glad I didn’t opt for my midriff-baring top. I’d walk out of here looking like an overstuffed Care Bear.”

“You’d never look anything less than beautiful, darlin’.” He caressed her nape and reached for the dessert menu.”

She gave him the side-eye. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Hell, no. In fact, if we didn’t have an audience I’d take advantage of how close you’re sittin’ to me right now.” His hand slid from her knee and coasted upward along her thigh.

Desperately trying to ignore the tingling in her clit, she halted his hand before it could torment her any further. “I was referring to you wanting dessert.”

“I’m always
up
for some sweet stuff.”

She snorted and pointed to the menu. “I mean
that
dessert.”

“Ah. I thought maybe you’d want something to finish off that amazin’ meal.”

“Ugh. No room.” As it was she might have to covertly pop a button on her skirt in order to breath. “We could always stop at that farm stand we passed on the way here and pick up some fresh fruit to take home.”

He looked unimpressed with that scenario so she decided to go for the big guns. “I already have whipped cream and chocolate.”

“Where was that stand again?”

“Figured that’d get your stamp of approval.”

He signaled for the check. Less than five minutes later they were cruising down the interstate toward Friskie’s Farm Fresh Produce. The name threatened to give her giggles, particularly considering what they had planned for the fruit.

Armed with a mental shopping list, she dragged Dylan inside the large, open-sided shed housing the produce stand. Truthfully, he wasn’t all that reluctant. Probably because he was too busy visualizing what he’d do with the strawberries piled in the little woven baskets across from them. She snagged one of the containers, along with some plums and nectarines.

Dylan held up a huge cucumber and she gave him the stink eye. He offered the vegetable a consolation pat before tossing it back in the heap. “Maybe next time, buddy.”

Hauling him away from there before they got arrested by the food fetish police, she plopped their goodies on the checkout counter and dug in her purse. Dylan whipped out his wallet and handed over a twenty before she could stop him. He collected his change and the bags and offered his free arm. Sighing, she accepted it. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. Besides, paying gives me dibs on choosing where to lick the whip cream off ya first.” 

“Oh, is that how it works?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

They ducked back into the SUV and headed on their way again. He surprised her by pulling into the parking lot of the tiny antique store she’d spied earlier. She sent him a mystified look. “I thought you wanted to get home.”

“I promised you a date. This is part of it.”

“But—”

He leaned over and caressed her cheek. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m dyin’ to lap you up like a Zoe sundae. It can wait though. Giving you this is way more important.”

She blinked against the tears accumulating in her eyes. “You are so getting lucky tonight.”

“Baby, I already am. Having you with me makes me the luckiest bastard on earth.”

The intensity shining in his eyes did her in. Pushing aside every other thought in her head, she grabbed a hold of his face and kissed him hard. He groaned and delved his tongue past her lips. She eagerly accepted him, lightly scraping the tip with her teeth. Coasting her hand along the front of his shirt, she slipped past his belt and rubbed him through the denim of his jeans.

He tore his mouth away from hers, his breaths ragged. “If we keep this up, I’ll never be able to walk through that store without knocking everything over with my dick.”

That made her laugh. Nipping his whiskered jaw, she stroked him again. She moved her mouth lower and licked his neck. His warm, masculine scent left her woozy. “I don’t feel like shopping anymore.”

“No? What do you feel like?”

“Having you take me home and eat me like a big ole sundae.”

He required no more encouragement. The second she was safely buckled in her seat, he gunned the engine and sped out of the lot. They reached the farmhouse in record time. Likely due to the fact that he broke every speed law in existence. He carried the bags into the house for her and set them next to the kitchen sink. Giving her a light swat on the butt, he nipped her earlobe. “I’ll get things situated in the living room.”

She couldn’t think of the last time she did anything more scandalous than read a naughty book in that particular room.
This is going to be fun.
Excitement accelerating her pulse, she washed up the fruit and sliced the plums and nectarines into manageable pieces. She carefully arranged everything in a pretty rainbow shape and placed the can of spray whipped cream and the bottle of chocolate syrup in the center. Hugging the platter to her chest, she shuffled into the living room.

She blinked at the amazing sight greeting her. Dylan had moved the coffee table against the wall, making room for the twin-sized air mattress. A heart made out of rose petals decorated the sheet covering it. Flickering tea lights scattered across every available surface completed the tableau. Overwhelmed by the romantic touches, she settled the platter down and caught her breath. “How—
when
did you have time to do this?”

“The mattress is self-inflating, so that took no work. The petals I snagged outside from your rose bush.” He looked momentarily sheepish. “Hope you don’t mind I took the liberty. And the candles are LED. Flip a switch, and presto.”

“But that still doesn’t explain where you got the mattress and candles.”

“I stashed them in the back of the SUV the other day. Was gonna surprise you with a little romance under the stars after Little Man went to bed.”

She crossed to the mattress and smoothed her thumb over the velvety surface of one of the rose petals. Uncertainty shadowed Dylan’s eyes. “Do you like it? It’s not lame, is it?”

“It’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” Twining her arms around his neck, she offered him a tremulous smile. “Thank you.”

He coasted his hands to the small of her back and hugged her to him. “You’re welcome, baby.” He kissed her tenderly, his tongue a soft, exploring promise of hotter pleasures to come.

Her insides turning liquid, she untangled her arms from his shoulders and scored her fingertips along the firm plane of his chest. She needed to feel his bare skin. Touch and taste him until she was intoxicated on his head-rushing pheromones. With his assistance she shoved his T-shirt up over his head. He whipped the garment to the rug and divested her of her top and miniskirt.

He raked his fiery gaze over her, lingering on her itsy bitsy pink panties. “You are the sexiest thing alive.”

Flushing with pleasure, she sat on the mattress and reached for her boot. He shook his head. “No, leave those. I’ve always had this fantasy of you riding me like a true cowgirl.”

She giggled. Grinning, he stretched over her, forcing her flat to the airbed. He aligned his body over hers, settling between the cradle of her thighs. Lacing his fingers with hers, he lifted her hands and pinned them above her head. It felt naughty and oh so wanton being spread-eagled beneath him, only her skimpy bra and panties shielding her from his wicked ways.

Ha! Like she wasn’t eager for him to defile her in every filthy way imaginable.

He rolled his hips, deliberately grinding her pussy with that luscious hardness straining at his zipper. She wrapped her legs around his waist, moving along with him. He kissed her lightly on the lips, his tongue teasing. A whimper broke from her and his mouth moved lower, teeth scraping her chin. Shifting his head, he dipped his tongue in the hollow of her collarbone. “How wet are you for me, darlin’?”

Her mouth was too dry for her to form a coherent response. Fortunately he didn’t seem to require one, because he released one of her hands and eased up enough to slide his fingers inside her panties. A carnal gleam flashing in his eyes, he slicked over her drenched labia. “Mm, juicy and sweet as any peach. And even better to eat.”

Mesmerized by his dirty bedroom talk, she bit her lip and rubbed shamelessly on his hand. Just when she thought he couldn’t possibly drive her crazier with need, he slipped out of her panties and licked his fingers.

“Oh Lord,” she whispered. “You’re killing me.”

His devilish smirk confirming that he was mighty proud of that turn of events, he freed the clasp on her bra and peeled back the cups. He massaged the globes of her breasts, his touch sensuous and confident. He worked his way inward and upward, feathering over her areolas without making direct contact with her nipples. The taunting absence of his touch there triggered her frustrated moan.

The glint in his eyes hinting that he was well aware of the torment he was inflicting on her, he reversed course, abandoning her breasts completely. He ghosted his hand along her belly, the tantalizing brushstrokes of his fingertips making her quiver. Tracing the elastic band of her panties, he inched the fabric down slightly before hooking the side strings with his thumbs and dragging the scrap of lace down her legs. He worked the elastic down and over her boots and dropped the undergarment onto the floor.

Leaning sideways, he grabbed the can of whipped cream. He primed it with several hard shakes and squirted a healthy dollop on both of her nipples, the cold sugary foam instantly puckering the peaks of her breasts. Next he painted a stripe straight down her abdomen and bisected it with a triangle on her mound, the whole thing forming an arrow. He tossed her a wink. “Just in case I get lost along the way.”

“Insightful of ya.”

He set the whipped cream aside and flipped open the cap on the chocolate syrup. A fine drizzle trickling from the tip, he retraced the path he’d already marked.  Smacking his lips in a way that made her smile, he plunked the bottle down and leaned over her. He licked her cream-covered left nipple first. Once it was squeaky clean, he sucked the swollen nub, the heat of his mouth a decadent contrast to the chilled foam. He treated the other nipple to the same oral devotion, the pull and tug of his lips and tongue shooting corresponding tremors deep in her core. She gripped his hair, arching her back for more of his feasting pleasure.

Flattening his tongue, he cruised down the lane of cream and chocolate traversing her stomach and the top of her mound. He dropped between her legs, his broad shoulders providing the perfect resting spot for her thighs. Sliding her labia open with his thumbs, he licked her from her slit all the way up to the throbbing nubbin that’d been aching for his tongue for the last ten minutes. Finally having him where she most needed him brought a blissful sigh to her lips.

“I wanna hear you do that again, only this time usin’ my name.”

She honored the request and he growled into her flesh, the sound and the carnal friction of his tongue shooting stars in her vision. Her hips bucked and he caught them with his hands, holding her steady as she shattered into a million brilliant shards of blinding light. While she was still gasping for breath, he shoved to his feet and shucked his boots before stripping off his jeans and jockeys. He dropped onto the mattress and hooked her behind the knees with his arms, pulling her to him. A firm nudge of his cockhead, and then he thrust to the hilt with one smooth, breath-stealing stroke.

They stared into each other’s eyes, the connection miles beyond the mere physical. He rolled his hips, stoking the embers of pleasure still burning in her cells. She bowed her back, matching him thrust for thrust. Groaning, he pulled out of her and rolled onto his back, taking her with him. With her straddling him now, he eased back inside of her pussy and coaxed her to sit up on his cock. He laced his fingers behind his head. “I wanna see you work it, cowgirl.”

“Oh yeah? Think I can’t last eight seconds in your saddle?”

He chuckled. “Think we both know I’m the one most at risk of not lasting the bell.”

“Damn straight.” And just in case he was still unconvinced, she started undulating her hips in a slow, steady grind, riding the rock-hard length of his shaft until his gaze turned glassy and sweat beaded his brow and pecs. Sliding her hands to her breasts, she squeezed them and pinched her nipples.

“
Fuck me
.” His gaze glued to her motions, he licked his lips. “Play with your clit for me, darlin’.”

She obediently released one of her breasts and caressed the bundle of nerves, a gasp springing from her at the languorous spiral of pleasure that coalesced into a wild burst of ecstasy. Shuddering, she rode out the intense sensations. She was acutely aware of Dylan soaking up every detail of her climax. Sharing the intimacy with him only suspended her higher on the cloud of bliss.

Before she fell back to Earth, he eased her off of him and rolled her onto her stomach. Assuming he wanted her on her knees, she began to lift up, but he stretched over her, hugging her between his arms and bracketing her legs with his. He kissed her neck and slid his cock inside her, the angle hitting her G spot in precisely the right way. She bit her lip, unable to suppress the wanton moans that purled from her as his engorged head pumped deeper, retreated, stroked again, ceaselessly working that over-sensitized patch of tissues, over and over. She trembled. “Dylan, I’m c-com—”