by J. Jenkins
Sighing she answered, “Six years.”
He said a silent prayer, held his breath, then asked, “You never remarried?”
“Oh, I'm not their birth mother. Their father was my older brother. He and his wife died in an accident.”
Dylan looked from her to the twins. She shared such a startling resemblance with the boys that he'd automatically assumed they were hers. That she wasn't by nature their mother was very telling though, revealing to him her capacity to care so strongly that she'd seamlessly sealed the children within the envelope of her tenderness so they'd been able to recover from their loss and move on happily with their lives. He and Justin needed such levels of attention and commitment.
Looking back to Carolina, Dylan hoped she didn't have a significant other in her life, because if she did then what was he to do about the daydreams he'd been having since they'd locked gazes at the shopping center. When she’d touched his arm before walking away, he'd momentarily forgotten Liz and their wreck of a relationship. He'd wanted to call after her so she'd walk back and he could have stroked her lustrous hair, feeling that touching her was something he needed and had every right to do. In a deep, smoky voice he stated, “It must have been tough, loosing them and then having to assume raising the boys alone?”
“Yes,” fell from her lips, but she'd wanted to lie, protect herself from the emotions, and sensations she was experiencing.
Looking her up-and-down he reservedly asked, “Have you ever been married?”
She flinched. “Close once, but he changed his mind the day of the ceremony.”
Dylan surveyed her, the regal posture, a body with curves a man could spend a lifetime exploring and her hair blazed down her back like undulating fire, sexy, dangerous and beckoning. “His loss,” he stated enthusiastically.
She turned, capturing his smoldering look, felt herself emotionally falling, a sensation she didn't want, but heard herself asking, “And you?”
“Married for ten years, which netted me one heck of a son and a bushel of heartache. Divorced for three...” Her fragrance interrupted his thought process, billowing around him, whetting his appetite, scents of vanilla, caramel, chocolate and sensual richness filling his nose.
Her eyes searched his face, “You still care about her?”
“My attachment to her is a sorrowfully parasitic thing,” he confessed needing on a gut level to be honest and vulnerable with her.
“I get the idea,” she responded, knowing she hadn't enjoyed being robbed of her ability to live freely. Dylan's gaze still held hers, mesmerizing, coaxing, and momentarily oblivious to her surroundings Carolina lifted a hand, her fingers tucking a lock of sleek golden hair behind his ear. Her eyes roamed the planes of his handsome face, reading there more than he could tell her. She saw he was lonely and fearful, a family man by nature who'd had his heart broken and dreams tainted, his mind filled with so much confusion and doubt he thought himself weak. Feeling compassion for him, combined with the nagging desire to have his naked skin beneath her touch, Carolina smoothed her fingers along the steel of his jaw line, “Who wanted the divorce?”
“She did,” he whispered, enjoying the warmth of her fingers trailing down the length of his throat, until they suddenly fell away.
Carolina knew she had to stop tempting the chain lightning that would surely cause her suffering, but she couldn't hold back her husky sigh, “Definitely her loss.”
****
Being in the homey setting with Carolina and their kids was making Dylan antsy as unfriendly thoughts zigzagged across his consciousness and he knew he and Justin should've long ago said their respectful goodbyes and taken to the road home. However, the boys showed no evidence they were ready to end their fun although the time was nearing eleven o'clock. He'd made gentle suggestions several times to Justin that they might be outstaying their welcome but his comments were always met with unhappy grumblings from the three boys. Carolina consistently ran interference on behalf of the trio, content to let them have their way despite the fact that she had to be completely exhausted. She’d served dinner for eight: buttermilk biscuits, fried chicken with bacon and pepper cream gravy, mashed red-skinned potatoes, buttered peas with pearl onions, and tossed green salad, one of his favorite meals, the very dinner he'd earlier thought of having at home that evening. For dessert she’d surprisingly presented a purchased four-layer chocolate cake that he knew was Justin's favorite, of which the boys and he had eaten big slices. Carolina had foregone the devilish treat in favor of a single-layer caramel cake she’d baked and he'd eaten a square along with her, closing his eyes in rapture as the tang of buttermilk in the sweet glaze made him think of boyhood church picnics.
When three band members were picked up by their parents, Carolina had overflowing tins of freshly baked cookies and brownies for them to take home. While he, the twins and Justin had played video games, she’d served more chocolate cake and milk, lingering a long time to warmly massage the stiffness from his shoulders when she’d spied him rubbing his neck. Now he and the kids were watching a newly released action-adventure DVD and she’d excused herself, leaving him wonder if she’d gone off to darn socks, churn butter, mediate a global crisis or spin straw into gold.
Earlier she’d told him she owned a property acquisitions firm and supported numerous charitable causes, many of which they had in common. He'd been extremely impressed by her accomplishments and benevolence, though the things he found most fetching about her he discovered while surveying her home. Carolina lived in a lovely yellow cottage, with white picket fence. He had a thing for picket fences, having painted the one at his childhood home at the beginning of every spring from the time he was old enough to hold a brush. Her home's interior was a strategic blending of beige to camel colored paints and fabrics, country florals, and polished oak, with the surprise of an occasional wall painted deep dusky rose, all offset by sleek piano-black appliances and multimedia equipment. In addition, she maintained a fragrant pink, secretly his favorite color, rose garden, which was already in full bloom, heavily scenting the air around the exterior of her home. When he’d commented on the extraordinary performance of her bushes, in hushed tones she’s shared a few secrets of bountiful gardening, then made him promise not to tell another living soul the knowledge she was entrusting to him. He gave a silent chuckle at the memory of her antics: 'Bond Girl' guarding a classified secret. Everything he saw and heard highlighted Carolina's outward appearance of a superwoman who shielded a multidimensional spirit he yearned to know completely.
Pulling himself reluctantly from an overstuffed chair, he went to search out the woman he couldn't stop thinking about and found her sitting in the living room working a crossword puzzle. From the doorway, he could see her hair had escaped its clip to form a fiery veil around her lovely face. He longed to twine his fingers in its thickness and pull her close, something his ex-wife had never allowed him to do.
His relationship with Liz had been devoid of affection but there had been fevered sex that had ensnared him from the moment they'd met. The entirety of his marriage he'd been starved of nurturance, a trait Carolina seemed to possess in abundance. There was no wonder in his mind why he'd sought her out, no doubt as to why he couldn't stop thinking about her; he was fascinated by the way she cared with minimal reservation, almost blindly, for the people in her immediate orbit. Dylan had experienced few women in his lifetime so free with their embraces and hugs, women who would take the time to sit with a forlorn child or adult, natural mothers as was Carolina who he'd seen struggling not to pull his son into her arms when she'd embraced the other band members after they'd played their last song, but needing to demonstrate some level of deep sentiment she'd resigned herself to mussing his son's hair before placing her hand over her heart and raising her eyes heavenward. Justin, so in need of positive regard from a mother figure, had delighted in the expressions, smiling from ear-to-ear.
Of course, he wasn't blind to another of her attractions, a curvaceous figure sh
e tried concealing beneath a conservatively tailored charcoal blouse and black slacks, which was an offense akin to draping an exquisite Greek statue with burlap. Dylan had allowed his eyes, on several occasions, to follow the lines of her figure, delightfully full breasts and a minuscule waist giving way to sumptuously swelling hips that would have enticed the holiest of men. He remembered how he'd forced himself to look away from the ripe roundness of her bottom when she’d bent to pick up an empty glass from the floor beside the sofa. Now his muscles tightened at the memory, his voice growing gritty, a little sleepy, and sinfully seductive, “Hey Carolina.”
“Hey,” she replied. Looking up at him, she placed the crossword on the coffee table. With a sweep of her hand, she invited him in, “Come sit with me.”
He eased his long frame down close to her. “Justin and I should be going.”
She took his hand. “Will you both be alright?”
With her touching him, Dylan was prompted to draw her further into his life. “Hopefully. I'm filing for sole custody because it's clear our views on parental responsibility are real different. Her most recent misconduct involves allowing Justin to see her stoned and hammered with her barely legal, live-in lover and their friends.”
Giving his hand a squeeze, she empathized, “How dreadful for Justin and you.”
“More so for Justin. I can withstand a heck of a lot, but if he stays with her I feel Liz, she's my ex, will keep on actin' out, delivering constant knife thrusts of disregard that will add up to one big hollow in his and my existence and all the while she'll be laughing as she turns the handle as hard as she can.”
“Will getting full guardianship be difficult?”
“I hope not. What's hard is accepting how I've failed my boy. I've always wanted his happiness but I got so blinded by Liz I lost sight of his needs.”
Thinking the woman possessed no inner virtues Carolina blurted out, “She must be very beautiful.”
He looked at her longingly. “I use to think so.”
Her tone was rushed, “And now?”
“She means nothing to me,” he professed.
Carolina wasn't convinced. Giving his hand a firm squeeze, she instructed strongly, “Forget her. You and Justin deserve better.”
He looked her over, sizing her up as a million times better and with his next words staked his claim, “In all those years why didn't you find someone else?”
Agilely she overstepped his trap. “I haven't the time nor want to.”
Carolina was wrong and he wouldn't let her get away that easily. She’d already made time for him. Now it was his noble objective to make her want. Dylan's gaze caressed the lines of her face as he slowly lowered his head to hers. “I feel I've always known you,” he avowed, just before their lips touched. He explored her essence, his head filling with obscure memories of rain soaked nights and high mountain air.
Carolina's mouth clung to his, enjoying the warm slippery, smoothness. It was a soul-searching kiss with lowered lashes and tenderness, a warning that he wanted more than she was prepared to give. Dylan wanted to make real the dream of her white picket fence, pink roses and whispered secrets. Apparently, he was oblivious to the undertones of darkness surrounding her. Slowly she drew her lips away from his and heaved a sigh, putting voice to her thoughts, “Don't delude yourself. The way you're seeing me isn't real.”
Pretending to misunderstand, he teased, “You feel real.”
Banter and frivolity she could handle. “And so do you.” After giving him a lingering kiss she clarified, “You know what I mean. Tonight has been fun but now you and Justin must go.” She stood and stretched before saying, “I'll tell them.”
He watched her fluid movements, wanting to pull her down on top of him; instead, he placed a hand at her waist to halt her progress, his fingers tingling at the contact. “Thank you again.” Strands of her hair attached themselves to his shirt and stroking them, he felt the furnace turned up on his desire, his breathing deepening.
Carolina heard his change and cautiously stepped away. “The boys are coming,” she announced thankfully. To the approaching trio she called out, “All done?”
Dylan stood alongside her to face Callum, Calder and Justin.
The twins spoke in unison, “We want Justin to stay.”
Dylan felt Carolina's sidelong glance in his direction, sensed her struggle to articulate an answer she probably never voiced to the twins, heard the clearing of her throat before she replied, “His father says they have to be leaving.”
Three pairs of eyes turned to him but only one voice questioned, “Dad?”
Seconds ticked by and he thought he didn't want to be the bad guy. “You can stay as long as y'all go straight to sleep.”
“All right,” the boys chorused before Callum and Justin took off.
Calder remained looking from Carolina to Dylan and directed, “You'll stay too. I'll prepare the guest room.” He left quickly not wanting to hear any excuses.
Dylan considered Calder his best friend but said, “I'll get Justin in the morning.”
With an indulgent smile aimed at Calder's retreating figure she told Dylan, “Please stay, the twins really like having the two of you here.”
He adored her sweetness. “Is there anything you wouldn't do for them?”
“Once, they wanted a python,” she shuddered at the memory and heard Dylan's laughter. They worked in unison to extinguish electrical devices before making their way upstairs to enter the guest suite. True to Calder's words, the covers were turned down with a robe and toiletries lying on top. She was amazed. “They really like you.” Scooping up the items, she placed them atop the dresser before moving across the room with Dylan in tow to open an interior door leading to the guest bath. “Have a shower or Jacuzzi if you-” She shivered, feeling his large body crowding her from behind, his fingers capturing the ends of her hair.
Dylan allowed the silken strands to run through his fingers. Lowering his head, he breathed into her ear, “It's like trying to catch a flame.” Using his size alone he directed her further into the bathroom, closing the door behind them.
Facing him, Carolina's eyes drank in his intensity.
Dylan's gaze devoured her loveliness.
When her lips parted to speak, he read her intentions and forcefully commanded, “Don't say no.”
The unexpected authority in his voice made her jump. “This isn't why I asked you to stay. I don't want to mess things up for the boys.”
“We won't,” he asserted.
More truthfully, she didn't want to risk growing closer to Dylan only to have him turn away from her. However, her ardent nature had her saying, “Tell me we're just for tonight, that tomorrow you and Justin will leave and not return and then I'll sleep with you. But if you want the boys to grow closer or need more than sex from me then I won't.”
“You want a one night stand?”
“I don't want empty notions of forever.”
“No promises?”
“None.”
“No regrets”
“Just about-”
Dylan didn't want to hear her cautions because the fertile scent of her summoned and emboldened him, convinced him that no matter what she said now, he would sway her later. Yanking her to his chest, he kissed her until he was sure her concerns no longer mattered. “Tonight, make me forget,” he insisted.
Carolina's head was reeling but she vowed, “I will.”
Her assertion decided the matter. He branded her lips with a rough, hot kiss that was a compass for her to follow. Having been celibate since his divorce there was extreme need throughout his being.
Pulling away from him, she sank to the floor, her fingers deftly unbuckling his belt and unfastening his jeans to release his rigid penis into her hands. His root was enormous in both width and extent, weighty, by design inviting her grip.
Holding his gaze, she stroked his throbbing length, until his eyes closed and he let out a groan from deep within his chest. Encircling his
mighty erection she squeezed him tightly, sliding her hand slowly back and forth, her touch growing warmer and she felt him thrusting against her palm, wanting her, making her feel desired and needed as no man had in a long time, for that and because he'd asked she'd make him forget. “Look at me,” she requested.
He did, seeing the flush of passion that stained her cheeks dusky-rose. Her eyes sparkled the mystical colors of polished Connemara marble. Wildly, as if windblown, her vibrant-red hair billowed around her. Trembling at the sight and feel of her, he ecstatically declared, “Gracious honey, you're beyond beautiful.”
She was thrilled that he found her pleasing, that he'd already formed an endearment for her. “Don't stop looking at me,” she instructed while divesting him of his clothing, pushing him back to sit on the tub's edge. Kneeling between his thighs, she trailed her nails across his flat, rock hard abdomen then down the solid muscles of his thighs. Leaning forward her hair danced across and around his legs as she greedily engulfed him in her mouth, immediately gliding him down her throat.
He gave a shout of surprised satisfaction, “I can't believe you're swallowing me.”
Carolina felt him shudder. She eased him out, her tongue spiraling around his iron rod, then slowly slid him back in, making her throat tighten around him at every inch of his journey and when he'd reached his destination she sucked on him like a commercial vacuum cleaner. He tried to pull away but she kept up the tight, squeezing pressure, milking him, then easing off, repeatedly bringing him to the edge of climax until his thighs were bathed in sweat. She heard the ragged groans deep in his chest and felt him wrapping her hair around his hands binding them together.
After several licks to the underside of his shaft she allowed him to withdraw from her throat, let the big persimmon-sized head get to the border of her teeth before she forcefully sucked him back in, feeling the sides of his large penis start to expand and pulse before she abruptly released him and he unbound himself from her hair. Standing, she removed her clothes before returning to sit facing him astride his lap. She licked his ear, sighing erotic imaginings while gyrating on his swollen staff. Against his lips she whispered how he'd felt in her mouth, her tongue teasing his lips apart, its tip darting in and out, sliding along the edges of his teeth. Drawing back, she nipped the fullness of his lower lip and felt him buck forcefully beneath her. Looking deep into his eyes, she bit him harder, tasting the salt of his blood, watching as bolts of white light appeared in his pupils, his entire body aquiver. Ceasing her gyrations, she sat her sultry opening fully upon his pulsating erection. Cupping his square jaws she bathed the tiny wound she'd made on his lip, before purring how much she’d wanted him to come in her mouth, would have loved to drink all of his rich sweetness.
