Freedom (15 page)

He begins kissing his way up my stomach again, licking along my curves before descending on my breasts. He sucks on one nipple and moves to another, sucking harder with his teeth biting into me. I am wetter than ever and feeling frantic to have him inside of me.

“Now,” I moan and he groans, as if this was a test of patience and he’s ready to throw in the towel.

He props himself above me and begins rubbing his cock against me again. His composure is fragile as his hand guides himself into me. When he slips, I realize he is a little nervous. I move his hand and grasp his thick length and push it partially into me.

“Good Lord,” he moans, feeling the tip of his cock firmly positioned inside as he attempts to gain stability on the bed.

As I run my hands up his muscled arms and wrap my legs around him again, he looks at me with desire and excitement before he plunges into me and doesn’t stop until he’s fully embedded. I moan, and we both hold our breath as he stills his body.

“Good God. This feels so good,” he barely gets out.

As he closes his eyes and throws his head back to savor the moment, I use the opportunity to run my hands over his soft, buzzed hair while I flex and tighten my inner muscles to get another moan out of him.

When he opens his eyes, he looks down at me and his mouth curves into a slight smile. “This is better than I imagined.”

“Sex? Or me?”

“You. Sex with you. All of it. I don’t want to move. I want to stay buried in you and feel this good all the time.”

“If you don’t move and get me off again, I’m going to rip your ear off with my teeth.”

Dylan chuckles and it sends a rumbling sensation through me all the way down to the most sensitive places. He begins pulling out and thrusting back in, slowly at first. My mind careens into a tailspin, waiting for that delicious orgasm to peak and spill me into oblivion. I am practically thrashing underneath him as he sucks on a nipple and rubs my clit as he starts pounding into me.

“Yes,” I hiss.

He removes his hand from my clit, which is still vibrating, and then braces himself up on both arms. His face is flushed and begins to bead with sweat.

“You’re so wet and tight, and I haven’t done this in a while, Emma,” he rasps.

“I’m so close.” I think I say it out loud.

I am being overtaken by those delicious shocks that roll from my center. I arch up as my body explodes with a glorious display of tingling spasms. I keep grinding against Dylan as he pumps ferociously into me with the kind of unflagging joy you would expect from a young guy who has broken his long sentence of abstention. He climaxes with a sudden laugh and grunts with smaller thrusts to empty himself. Another orgasm rolls through me and I whimper before my trembling body subsides and Dylan collapses on me.

We lie like that for a few minutes, connected and entwined, and I leave a trail of soft kisses down his head and cheek. He props himself on his elbows to take his weight off me and kisses me long and lovingly again. I cup his scruffy cheeks in my hands and return the adoring kiss.

This is more than I have ever enjoyed with any man. Whatever personal demons Dylan has had to slay to get to this point, he found me and I found him. That is all that matters. I need him and I will do whatever it takes to get Robert out of my new life, even if it means cutting off all ties with my former life so I can be with Dylan. People say and do stupid things during the haze of sex, however I think my growing feelings for Dylan are genuine and were solidified before he took me to his bed. I hope I am right. One mistake like Robert was enough.

“Are you okay?” Dylan asks, beaming, knowing that I am very content.

“I’m excellent.” I smile. “How about you?”

“You’ve confirmed it for me. I don’t like being celibate as long as you’re around.”

He grins as he pries himself off me before getting up to deal with the condom.

“I guess we’re more than housemates,” I call after him. “We’re bedmates.”

Dylan wraps the condom in a tissue and drops it in a wastebasket.

“I hope we’re more than that.” His tone is as serious as when he told Robert to stay away.

I pull a sheet over me, wondering why modesty always takes over after sex.

“I wish I didn’t have this family mess on my hands,” I say. “I hate bringing you into this. After what you’ve been through—”

“I can handle this,” he cuts me off with a sharp tone. “I’m not going to let that guy keep this up. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll fix this.”

He climbs back in bed and gets under the sheet before bringing me in for a hug.

“How do we handle this at work? What do we tell people?” I ask, thinking of Daisy making an announcement about us on the PA system.

“At work, we work. We don’t have to say anything to anyone; they’ll figure it out on their own.”

“So what are we?” I inquire, sprawled across his chest.

“Whatever we want to be.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. You saw the way Sean looked at us. And Carson, too. What do
you
think we are, Dylan?”

His beautiful blue eyes bore into me with a thoughtful gaze and then his mouth curves. How could I ever think he looked like a mercenary or that he was jackass? He is so sweet and strong, and there is an unexpected gentleness to him.

“You’re my… we’re exclusive, right? I mean, it’s going to be difficult for you to date other guys if you’re living with me and sharing a bed with me.” He grins.

“Funny.”

“Yeah, well, what do you think we are?”

“I think I like this a lot.”

“You mean having a guy give you a home, cook for you, take you to bed?” He is perhaps fishing for more. I’m not sure, though.

“I like you, Dylan.”

“Good.” He gives me a chaste kiss on my lips.

I take his right arm and study his small tattoo below his palm. “
Freedom
,” I read it out loud. “What is this for?”

“It’s a reminder for me. That’s why I put it on my wrist, so I can see it anytime.”

“Freedom from what?”

“From myself, my self-doubt, my—”

“Your illness,” I say, holding his wrist gingerly in my hand.

“Yes. The word is to remind myself that my illness doesn’t have to rule my life if I don’t let it.”

I lift his arm to my lips and kiss his
Freedom.
His curious eyes watch me intently, and I believe there is a glimmer of both trepidation and hope in his gaze.

Fifteen

Dylan

Waking up with her in my arms is amazingly easy. I’m not worried about getting out of some woman’s bed as if it is a regretful college tryst, and I am not panicked that she is in my bed, cocooned next to me as if she has no intention of leaving anytime soon. I don’t want Emma to leave.

I wake early because my body is used to five a.m. runs, but this time, I stay in bed with her limbs wrapped around me. I don’t want to disturb her sleep, so I watch her eyelids flicker in slumber and listen to her faint whistling snore. Yes, she snores, drools and grunts when she adjusts her position, reminding me of Carson’s bulldog, Bert.

She oversleeps and we have to rush through a morning routine of a quick shower and toast as we bolt out the door before racing to work. She chides me for letting her sleep in and worries about arriving late to the office and who may be watching us. She has no idea that I could care less about being late for work. At the time, I was more interested in showering with her and staying in bed longer. That is a little worrisome for me, wondering if I am getting caught up in a physical relationship with her. However, in the end, I didn’t wake her up with my morning erection and I didn’t corner her in the shower. I didn’t let any of my sexual fantasies about her come into play. I just watched over her, and that felt good.

It’s different at work. I have a heightened awareness of being the guy that runs around talking to the design team in the factory and studio and clients on the phone. I am the guy that is fully aware of the distance between Emma and me at any given point during the day, as well. She is wholly her own person with her own agenda at work and the relationships she is developing with the other employees. She carries her own responsibilities with great confidence and professionalism. I admire that in her, even when she leaves a room as if I am just another employee and my instinct is to touch her as if she’s mine; she scoots away before I can act on it.

It hasn’t been stated and no one else may see it this way, but she is my responsibility. For the first time, I feel attached to a woman in a way that doesn’t resemble anything I have had in the past.

If we can get past this point of her revisiting her ex-boyfriend and engaging in ties that she claims she wants to break, and I can fix my turbulent brain, we have a chance at being together in a way that may work. Inwardly, I laugh at that possibility and my wishful thinking like a kid on Christmas morning.

Early in the afternoon, I need a break from paperwork and phone calls along with salivating over Emma’s legs. Today my stopwatch app has timed her at thirty-two leg crosses, enough to drive any man over the edge if he is sitting a few feet away. It’s time to visit the factory and get lost in the noise from the table saws and the heat from the wood oven—anything to get my mind off her for a while.

I strap on my heavy, leather tool belt, its weight pulling the waist of my jeans down a bit. I adjust my gear, and as I am about to leave the office, Emma glances at me as she finishes a phone call. She tries to hang up the phone while she keeps her eyes on my… belt, I am guessing. When she drops the cordless phone on the floor, it causes me to double check my attire; I look down at the familiar tools I take on jobs to work with the crew.

“What?” I study my belt again and look back at her for an explanation.

“What are you doing?” Her voice is lower; it’s not her normal no-nonsense tone, and if I am reading her correctly, she is aroused.

Oh, damn.

I close the office door and lock it, and in three strides, I pull her out of her chair and drag her to the dark corner by the window, so no one can see us from the parking lot.

“Dylan—” she begins to protest as I claim her mouth.

It’s too late for words. Her excited expression has put fuel to my fire, so we are going to get something out of this mutual desire. I pull one of her thighs up and run my hand down her leg to her ass, thankful her skirt makes this so easy. I then hold the back of her head while my tongue works over the sensitive flesh on her neck.

“Not here, Dylan. We can’t… do this,” she moans.

Pinned against the wall with a leg in the air, she pushes into me and holds my head against her neck.

I cup a hand underneath and feel her damp underwear. “You’re wet for me,” I murmur into her neck. “You totally want this.”

“Wanting it and doing it at work are two different things,” she whispers in halting breaths.

“Everyone is leaving for lunch, they won’t miss us.” I unbutton her blouse and then push down her bra, seeking out a hard nipple, sucking until she is writhing against my cupped hand. “You have me so jacked up right now.”

“How good is that lock on the door?” she asks.

“Very,” I respond as my tongue and mouth never leave her soft skin. “It’s a deadbolt. This used to be a storage room before we put in the windows and turned it into an office—”

“Shut up, Dylan,” she quips and cuts me off from rambling about the construction.

Her hands leave my head and begin quick work on my button-fly before yanking my jeans down. I reach to unbuckle my tool belt.

“No, don’t.” She stops my hand. “It’s sexy. Keep it on.”

“You’re kidding,” I say as she pulls my briefs down, too.

“No, I’m not. It’s hot. It makes you swagger. So hot.”

I am still holding her thigh up, exposing her to me as I release her bra clasp and pull it down.

“I don’t want anyone to get injured. I’ve got some sharp tools—”

“Condom,” she demands to stop my stupid banter again.

I have to let go of her leg to reach into my back pocket for my wallet. She quickly slides her underwear down while I remove a foil package and drop the wallet on the floor. She takes the package from me and opens it swiftly, then slowly rolls the condom onto my erection; watching her hands on me drives all the blood to my engorged dick. She moans in approval and wraps a leg around my waist before rubbing my cock against her wetness. I need to be touching her, but I am hypnotized by how she rubs herself with my dick. Her head falls back and she moans before opening her eyes and looking at me.

“I’m going to fuck you right now, Emma.” I try to suppress the urgency in my voice.

“Yes,” she whispers, laughing. “I like how you announce these things as if I don’t have any idea about what’s going to happen.”

“Just being clear,” I laugh in return.

As I hoist her up by her ass, her other leg wraps around me as I simultaneously plunge deep into her warm wetness. I gain some footing and push her up higher against the wall so I can thrust into her. I do it slowly at first, but when she pushes up my t-shirt and starts sucking on my nipples, I am overcome by all the sensations. The friction and wet rhythm—with the added bonuses of the hammer swinging in my tool belt, knocking the wall behind her with each thrust—propels me into a mindless sex rampage. She bites and sucks on my chest, and I pound into her harder. I completely lose it when she touches herself and puts two fingers on either side of her clit so they rub against my cock as well.

“Emma, shit,” I hiss. “I’m going to come.”

“Yes,” she utters, as we thrust against each other furiously until she lets out a small yelp followed by a low moan.

As she comes, her muscles tighten around my cock and her fingernails scrape across my back and around to my chest where she pinches my nipples again. I explode into her, and I am about to shout, but her hand covers my mouth to stifle me.

I let her slide down the wall to a standing position as I slip out of her.

“Christ,” I say, staggering back to watch as our bodies separate.

Emma fastens her bra and begins to button up her shirt. I find a tissue and remove the condom. We’re careful not to walk in front of the window, and hopefully, the machinery in the factory drowned out the sound from the banging hammer, although I don’t give a shit any more.