Dylan

by S. L. Scott

  Arms tighten. “I do.” Just a whisper, but heard.

  A kiss binds us together. Our lips stay locked as I back her toward the bed. Undoing my pants is a hassle, but I do it quickly and step out of them. Her bra comes off easily and she sits.

  So willing.

  So beautiful.

  So forgiving.

  Leaning forward, she pulls my boxers down, then rises back up and removes her own underwear. She crawls backward onto the bed, her body an open invitation. I maneuver over her, admiring the woman she’s become.

  Like lightning striking twice, she says, “I love you, Dylan.”

  The power of her words are the catalyst to held back emotions, the realization that she’s thrown me a life jacket in the middle of a sea of uncertainty. The heaviness of the moment starts to take over. “You do?”

  She lifts up and kisses me. “I do. I truly do, so much. I always have.”

  Resting on my forearms, I kiss her hard, needing to own every second of this moment. “I feel like I’ve waited a lifetime to hear those words. Say it again.”

  “I love you. I love you. I love you, babe.” She giggles, relaxing back down underneath me.

  She’s beautiful as she smiles with not only her mouth, but her eyes.

  “What happened to slow?” I ask, wondering.

  “Slow went out the window.”

  “I love you so much. So much.” I kiss her again, dropping my weight carefully down and sliding inside. I close my eyes as her heat takes over, clouding my mind with thoughts of love and lust, pain and pleasure. All worth it. Reality is the killer of pleasure. Against the soft skin of her shoulder, I breathe. “I don’t have a condom on.”

  “I know,” she whispers. “I’m on the pill. Make love to me.”

  I detect a hint of desperation in her tone as if I could stop. As if I was strong enough. Lifting my hips, I pull almost completely out, then slowly push back in—deep and slow. The pace is set when she meets me thrust for thrust, frantic. I grip onto her shoulders, plunging deeper, faster, eliciting the sounds of her pleasure.

  But five words fill my ears and my heart when she says, “I missed you so much.” I cave under the weight of the simple phrase that means the world to me. As I come, my sudden burst sends her spiraling into her own. Mine ceases just in time to catch the end of hers.

  “I missed you, Jules,” I pant, lowering down again.

  I don’t want to move, but I know I must, so I shift off of her, feeling the cool air hit me hard. She rolls onto her side, sliding against me and my arm drapes over her, her thigh on top of mine, body curled onto me. “Happy New Year,” she says.

  I turn to see the clock on the nightstand. 12:06 a.m. And I pray that the old saying that what you do at midnight is what you’ll be doing all year long tale is true. I kiss her temple as her racing heart slows, relaxing, and she finds sleep in my arms.

  “Happy New Year, Baby.”

  HIS SCENT IS calming and the absolute best smell to wake up to. I stir, refusing to open my eyes just in case this is all a dream. But the second and third best smells invade my world—coffee and bacon. In no particular order. I open my eyes reluctantly, feeling the empty space next to me, briefly lost in confusion.

  I’m here… at Dylan’s place… in his bed… naked. Smelling him, bacon, and coffee.

  Although I’m not happy about waking up to an empty bed, it’s his and by the amazing smells wafting from the kitchen, I know he’s near. I smile, not able to hold back. Stretching, I take advantage of the large bed, then pull the sheet over my face, revelling, closing my eyes, and breathing him in even more. That’s when I realize I can have the real thing in the kitchen. Not bothering with clothes, I scramble out of bed. Sauntering in, I look around the apartment—he once mentioned that he owned it. He wasn’t bragging, but just… I don’t know. It kind of hurts that he bought a place. Without me. Thinking I would never be here.

  Stings.

  I still rent. Afraid to truly commit to another apartment, although let’s face it, I’m pretty damn committed now since I’m still living there after six years. I probably should have moved but I couldn’t. It was the only tie I had left to Dylan.

  After last night, I’m finally honest with myself like I have been with him. I deserve this. I deserve happiness. My heart was always his, even when I fooled myself into thinking it could be someone else’s. It couldn’t. It was Dylan’s all along. He’s the only one who can heal me and make my soul whole again.

  I round the corner into the kitchen from the hallway, a smile plastered on my face and nothing else. But the smile drops when I see a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs next to the stove, but no Dylan.

  “Well good morning to you too. Nice ass by the way.”

  I spin around, startled and find his eyebrow cocked up high, smirk firmly in place, mug in hand. Suddenly I feel shy, exposed. My hands go to cover, but he sets the mug down and rushes me. “Don’t.” The word is harsh, demanding, but wanting. “Don’t cover up.” He takes my wrists in his hands, moving them down, out to the side, holding me open.

  Coming closer, he places delicate kisses along my jaw, then up. Gentle turns passionate and heated. His hand slides over my jaw, angling me up before slipping into my hair. His other graces my side and up to squeeze my right breast. “Mmmm,” I so eloquently groan.

  His cock is hard, pressing against my middle, the thin cotton of his boxers offering no support. I wanted him already just from the teasing. His grip tightens on my hips, fingers pressing as he pushes me onto the wall behind.

  He’s rough, rougher than before. The heat from our bodies emanating and I lift my leg up. He takes it as I look into his eyes. One slight hip adjustment and he’s inside me. Visions of a life grander than a mere sexual encounter frequent my thoughts.

  This is it. I feel it bubbling under the surface just like my orgasm. This life. Our life. We’ll be together, starting fresh, starting over. “I love you, Dylan,” I mumble and he thrusts harder.

  He makes love to me with words like ‘love’, ‘forever’, and ‘mine.’ His words penetrate my heart like his body penetrates me, leaving no other option for us, but to wholly love each other.

  We give and take, greedily. We come together then we fall apart. Tangled arms and legs, ragged breaths, and pounding hearts.

  With a dip of his head, he leans his forehead against mine and says, “You really shouldn’t walk around naked.”

  “If that’s what I get every time I walk around naked, you will never find me clothed.”

  He chuckles and my heart jumps, absorbing the sound, taking it in like fresh air. He sets me down carefully on shaky legs, holding me up until I’m stable. “I was worried you’d change your mind in the light of day.”

  “About what?” I can’t help the slight pang I feel inside, hurt for both of us.

  “Us,” Dylan whispers in a way that I can tell he’s afraid his fears, like mine, will become reality.

  “I didn’t.” I want to say never but I can’t. I feel it, but I can’t say it just yet.

  Knowing me as well as he does, he changes the subject. “You hungry?”

  “Starved.”

  MID-MORNING COMES and I’ve planted myself on the couch, pretending to read a book, but really I’m watching Dylan. I think he knows I am, but he hasn’t said anything. He continues watching a sports commentary show. I never minded his obsession with sports. It was something he really enjoyed, though sometimes I thought it frustrated him more. He turns, catching me staring.

  I smile, he grins as he rubs my thigh, then turns his attention back to the TV. “This feels weirdly normal,” I state easily, comfortable here.

  His hand shifts to my knee and he squeezes lightly. “Is it weird or normal?”

  “Weirdly normal.”

  He laughs, but I can tell he’s thinking about this more than he’s letting on. “Yes, it does feel weirdly normal. Like the old days.”

  “Yeah, a lot like that.”

  “How do y
ou feel about that?” He gives me his complete attention.

  “I feel okay with it. You?”

  “I’m happy. It feels good to be with you like this.” Leaning over, he gives me three quick kisses on the mouth.

  After another hour passes and the pre-show is in full effect. The weight of the situation has had time to settle into my bones. “Maybe I should go.” This shouldn’t feel as good as it does this soon, should it? Doubts start seeping in. Is it wrong for us to move this fast?

  Walking with my empty coffee mug into the kitchen, I set it down, then feel his arms around me. His lips at my ear. “Do you want to go or do you want to stay?”

  “I want what you want.” I don’t know why this feels so right, so easy. Is it too easy?

  Spinning me around, he says, “I want you with me.”

  “I want that too.” I do. I just don’t know if I should. Am I giving in too soon?

  “I can turn the game off. We could go for a walk?” He’s trying and I know it’s for me because in that moment right then, I see the man I’ve always loved—open heart, thoughtful, attentive, intuitive.

  “I don’t want you to miss it. I remember how much you love football.”

  “It doesn’t matter, you do.”

  There’s no hiding my smile when he says such sentiments so freely. I hug him, absorbing all that is him into my senses, allowing myself this happiness because I deserve happiness in its purest form. That’s what he is to me. That spiteful hate crept away and left me happy. I don’t know when it happened and I don’t want to question it. I just want to enjoy this for a while.

  “You’re lost in thought.”

  “There’s a lot to think about,” I say, looking up. I pull back just enough to take him in. Strong jaw, handsome face, meaningful eyes. “I’m gonna go home and change clothes.”

  Arms tighten around me. “Stay. Wear mine.”

  I laugh. “Dylan, if I go, I’ll return. I promise. I know you’re worried. I can see and feel it. I’m worried too. I’m worried that if I step outside this bubble it will pop. That’s why I’ve got to do just that. I need to know this is real.”

  Taking my hand, holding it against his heart, he pleads, “This is real, Jules. I need you to believe that before you leave.”

  “I want to,” I whisper, not quite understanding why I’m suddenly so emotional. “I’m not running away. I’m just going to change clothes, pick up a few things. I’ll be back and if you’ll have me, I’ll stay the night.”

  “If I’ll have you? Are you insane, woman!” He smiles. “There’s no if. You’re it, always.”

  Leaning forward again, I just want to be closer though we’re pretty close as it is. “I won’t be long.”

  “Okay.” He gives in, trusting I’ll return.

  I leave him watching the game. Dylan seemed content, but I could see the worry in his eyes, by the crease in his forehead. Just outside his building, I walk to the curb, then catch my breath, breathing in the cool January air before I flag down a taxi.

  I miss him already.

  A KNOCK ON the door startles me. I shove the t-shirt I’m packing into my overnight case before walking across the apartment and answer it.

  “Hey there.” Brandon greets me with a smile.

  “Come in,” I say, smiling back and pulling him in by the cuff of his sleeve before closing the door. “How are you?”

  “I should be asking you that. How are you?”

  I return to my room to continue packing the toiletries. “Better than expected.”

  “Going somewhere?”

  “Dylan’s.”

  “So, all is forgiven and you’re moving on and… moving in or what?”

  He’s not being mean or judgmental, just curious and protective. I understand. “One day at a time. Yesterday was a good day for us. We talked and,” I say, shrugging, “I had my questions answered. I don’t know. Honestly, I’m not gonna overthink this. I feel more at peace with this decision than I thought I would.”

  “Jules—”

  “Brandon, please.” I can’t look up at him right now. If I do, I’ll cry and I don’t want to cry. I just want to continue feeling this happiness that has invaded me wholly. “I know you care about me and you’re worried. But, he’s changed. I can feel it. It’s not just his words. It’s everything.” I know from how he looks at me and his tentative touches, his firm grips and the way he moves when near. “He’s aware of what he’s lost, of what he threw away. He’s showing me how sorry he is. So please don’t take this away from me, not now, not after all I’ve been through.”

  He steps closer, bending down so he’s eye-level and grins, cheekily. “I was going to say I think Dylan’s changed for the better. I think his heart just might be in the right place.”

  “Really? You support this, us?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, Jules, I’m angry about the past shit he put you through, but… I think it’s time we all found some good out of the bad. And honestly, I think he just might be the only one who will ever heal your heart.”

  I throw my arms around his neck, tears falling carelessly onto his shoulder. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, Brandon. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

  “Anything for you. You know that, right?”

  I nod, because yes, I do know that.

  I WAIT OUTSIDE his door for him to answer. Running feet pad across a wood floor in a rush to answer, and the door flies open.

  He’s there. Breathless, handsome as ever with a huge smile. “You came back.”

  “I told you I would.” I saunter past him while flashing a confident grin.

  “I hoped.”

  I drop my bag and hug him because I can. I can now hug him as much as I want and I might just take advantage of the fact. “Who won?” I ask, referring to the game.

  But he has others ideas. “I did.”

  I roll my eyes. “Okay, you had me at take-out last night. You can drop the Mr. Charming act now.”

  “It’s not an act, Jules,” he replies, slipping his hand into mine and pulling me into the kitchen. “I really am charming.”

  I burst out laughing. “And so humble, too.”

  “I never claimed to be humble.” He pours me a glass of white wine while chuckling. “I ordered pizza. The salad on the pie version you always liked. Do you still?”

  He makes me happy and I like the feeling. “I do.” I sip, calming the giddy nerves inside. “How long until it arrives?”

  “They’re busy because of the game. We’ve got about forty-five minutes left from their estimate.”

  “Good.” I pull him closer by the t-shirt, fisting it, and holding on tight.

  A small smirk plays at the corners of his mouth as he lifts me up so I’m sitting on the counter. My legs are spread and he makes himself at home between them. He’s hard. I’m wet, and we haven’t even kissed. I stagger for air, feeling lightheaded as he moves forward, his lips seeking mine, his hands already gripping my hips, holding me in place. Just as the fullness of his bottom lip hits mine, he whispers, “I want you. I need you so much. My Jules. My Juliette.”

  Slipping my tongue between his parted lips, I eat his words, devouring them and his needs. I slide my hand down his chest, not caring that his shirt is stretched out and wrinkled from my tight hold. Down further and over his abs that take work to get and more work to maintain.

  Down further to his cock. I palm, feeling his erection. A moan from him to me, savoring the sound, I respond with my own. He pulls his shirt off abruptly, tossing it… somewhere. My lips slide down his neck, taking him in, smiling. “Mmmm,” I moan, getting lost in him completely. It’s so easy to do, just like old times. Just like our best of times. Our bodies connect through passionate kisses, caressing touches, and sexual stroking.

  My arms are up, my shirt is coming off as he tosses it away like he did his own. Dylan kisses the tops of my breasts, his hands sliding up my ribs and appreciating the sides of my breasts. Then he cups them, massaging for bot
h of our pleasure.

  A thought occurs, bugging me when I should be oblivious to the world outside. I ask, needing to verify, “This is real between us, it’s not just sexual, right?”

  His lids are heavy with desire but he stops, surprised by my question. “It’s real.” His hands hold my face steady as his words are scattered across my skin through a warm breath. I tighten my legs around him not wanting him to leave this spot. “Don’t think that.” His brow furrows. “We are not just about sex. We’re more than that. We always were. I thought you were feeling the same way.”

  “I do. I just needed to make sure. Are we moving too fast?”

  “Too fast for what? Too fast for whom?”

  “What will I tell my parents?”

  Amused, but slightly bewildered by my comment he asks, “So, let me get this straight. We’re half naked right now, leading into soon to be completely naked and you want to know if your parents will approve of us or not? I think I just lost my hard-on.”

  I stroke his cock. “Nope, still hard. Maybe even harder than before. I think you might be into dirty parent talk—” I’m laughing too hard to finish my sentence.

  “No, just no. Stop this. I need brain bleach.” He squints his eyes and shakes his head around like he’s in pain.

  Grabbing him by the back of the neck, I pull him closer, both of us smiling. “It feels so good to laugh like this. It’s been ages.”

  “Agreed,” he says, stealing a kiss.

  “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too, but luckily you weren’t gone too long.”

  “I mean more than tonight.”

  There’s a silence between us as he stares into my eyes, searching, finding what he needs. “I missed you, Jules… more than just tonight, too.”