Dylan: The Sons of Dusty Walker

by Redford, Jodi

  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—”

  “Yes, baby, I’m right with ya.”

  Hearing him say it was all the permission she needed to fly off the edge, her rapturous cries blending with his strangled shout. Her heart thumping like mad, she groaned weakly, too spent to move a muscle. Good thing, considering Dylan was still slumped on top of her.

  Unable to help herself, she laughed. He nuzzled her neck, his arms tightening around her. “That better not be due to my performance or my ego will be wilted.”

  “No, it’s due to mine. I don’t think I lasted the full eight seconds.”

  “Don’t worry. That was only a practice round.”

  Practice round? Lord have mercy.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Spending the morning making slow, sweet love to Zoe made up for having to leave her at ten to make the trip into Red Creek. After tomorrow he wouldn’t have to step foot in that office again.

  Rather than a huge wave of relief swamping him, he was met with an odd twinge of sadness. Truth be told, that place started to grow on him a bit the last couple of days. Maybe Abby had been onto something about dirt samples and their mystical abilities to lure you to the Dark Side.

  Shaking his head at that fanciful thought, he parked the SUV and detoured to the coffee shop aptly named Heart Starter. He’d discovered the place the other day and deemed it a nice alternative to the longer wait at Cubby’s. Not to mention he was starting to get a tad addicted to Lexie’s pastries.

  The owner of the shop gifted him a smile. “Let me guess, your usual?”

  Damn, he had a usual? Pondering the coolness of that, he watched Lexie select a giant bear claw danish with her tongs and slip it in a cellophane to-go wrap. His stomach rumbled in anticipation. Zoe would likely give him hell for snacking after the generous breakfast of bacon and eggs she fixed. All this hot lovin’ was taking a toll on his appetite. “Why don’t you throw in extras for Abby and the gang?”

  “Sure.”

  Lexie boxed up a variety of the mouth-watering goodies. He accepted the package and passed her a twenty. “Keep the change.”

  She nodded her thanks. “No coffee this morning?”

  “Already half a pot past my daily allotment.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “Sounds like someone’s been burning the midnight oil.”

  Sure did. And damn if it hadn’t been the hottest, most wonderful night of his life. After taking a bath together, he and Zoe had dragged the airbed into the backyard. He’d pitched the pup tent he’d bought along with the mattress, giving them some safety from the buzzing insects. They’d fed each other the succulent slices of fruit and made love under the twinkling canvas of stars visible through the overhead tent flap. Afterwards he’d held her in his arms, the gentle beating of her heart a lullaby that rocked him into blissful slumber.

  Lexie chuckled. “Judging from the look on your face, I’m guessing you’re not complaining.”

  “Nope.” He pinched off a corner of his pastry and snuck a bite. “Oh, Zoe wanted me to ask if you’re able to make it to Callie’s surprise party this evening.”

  “I’ll try my best. I have to make a trip out to Richfield after I close up shop. If I don’t get back in time, give the girls a big hug from me, okay?”

  “Will do.”

  He ducked out the door and made his way to his dad’s office. No, not Dusty’s anymore. Mine and my brothers’. Assuming they didn’t sell off their shares. Initially that’d been the route he’d planned to take. But now that option didn’t call to him as much. Crazy notion, considering how dead set he’d been against involving himself in anything attached to the Walker name.

  Abby’s gaze lit up when he strode through the entry with the bakery box. “Aw, you shouldn’t have.”

  “Didn’t. They’re all for me.” Tossing her a wink, he strolled toward the kitchenette. He stashed the box on the counter and situated a stack of Styrofoam plates for easy access.

  Abby snickered behind him. “Look at you being all generous.”

  “Shh. Don’t let that nasty rumor past these walls.”

  She inspected the contents of the box. “In the spirit of your largesse, I’ll leave the honeybun for Elaine.”

  “Damn, I was hopin’ my largesse wasn’t showin’.” He patted his belly. “Probably should cut back on the pastries.”

  “Silly man.” Giggling, Abby grabbed her plate and returned to her station.

  Dylan strode down the hall. Walt and Vic were in their respective offices. He lifted a hand in greeting to both men before heading to his own workspace. His attention shifted to Dusty’s doorway, and he hesitated. The familiar ache settled in his belly, only minus its usual sharpness. Maybe his emotional scars were finally starting to scab over. Intent to test his theory, he ambled into the room and sat in his father’s chair. Running his fingers along the upholstered arms, he stared at the worn surface of the desk.

  He waited for the hurt and rage to sink their claws in. The photo of Dusty and Theresa flashed through his mind—his father’s weary acceptance triggering that strange twinge of empathy in Dylan’s chest. His dad was a cheating asshole—nothing would redeem or change that—but it couldn’t have been easy juggling five families and knowing he’d have to take that secret to the grave with him. Who would willingly take on that kind of burden?

  A chirp beeped from the vicinity of his pocket. Figuring it was Zoe texting him, he dug his cellphone out and glanced at the display. Not his sweet cowgirl, but Georgianna.

  Hi, honey. Just checking in to see how you’re doing. Call me when you have a chance.

  Shit. He’d completely forgotten to touch base with her the last few days. Dread percolated in his stomach. No more putting this off. He needed to tell her about his brothers and the other women. Steeling himself, he punched in her number.

  She picked up on the first ring. “I didn’t mean you had to call me right this second,” she laughed.

  Relief crashed through him. She sounded so much better than the last time they spoke. Hopefully that meant she’d worked through the toughest stage of her grieving. “I know, but I’ve missed hearing your voice.”

  “You’re such a sweetheart. I’ve missed you too. Are you taking care of yourself? I hope you’re not eating fast food every night.”

  Her typical momma bear worrying brought a smile to his lips. “I’m not. Marliss and Zoe are watchin’ out for my arteries.”

  “Who are Marliss and Zoe?” There was no mistaking the curiosity in Georgianna’s tone.

  “Marliss is Dusty’s housekeeper. She and her husband, Lou, live at the house. And Zoe, well, she’s just the prettiest angel sent to Earth, and...” He sucked in a deep breath and expelled it slowly. “She’s the mama of your grandson.”

  A lengthy pause drifted through the receiver. Dylan swallowed. “Mom, are you there?”

  “Dylan Mitchell Walker, you have a son and you’re just now telling me about it?”

  He gulped. Georgianna only busted out his middle name when he was in some serious shit. He quickly recounted the situation to her, praying that his ignorance of Hunter’s existence would let him off the hook. Didn’t matter that it made perfect sense to him that it should. Women could be mysterious creatures who viewed rational explanations in an entirely different light.

  Fortunately Georgianna took the additional details in stride and her strident tone immediately softened. “I can’t wait to meet Zoe and our little Hunter.”

  “I can’t wait for you to meet them either.” He frowned. “You’re not pissy that she kept him a secret?”

  “I’m sure she had her reasons.”

  He grunted. Here his mom had been ready to whop him with a frying pan when he returned home, but Zoe got the reasonable treatment. Women.
He gripped the phone tighter, his stomach pitching in anticipation of the second part of this conversation. “I need to tell ya somethin’, and I don’t want ya to get upset.” Though I know you will. How could she not?

  “You and Zoe are expecting twins? Sweetie, that doesn’t upset me at all. After all, Hunter needs a little baby brother and sister.”

  “You’re an evil woman. Now stop your grandbaby daydreaming because this is important.” He blew out a heavy breath. “Dusty has three other sons—my half-brothers. Each from a different woman.”

  Dead silence greeted him. Fuck. “If you need me to come home early, I will.” He wouldn’t risk Georgianna falling into a deep pit of depression and possibly doing something harmful to herself. No inheritance was worth that.

  “No, hon. I don’t want you to do that. I-I’m just...processing.”

  “I understand. Believe me. When I first saw them at the lawyer’s, and found out who they were, it about knocked me on my ass.”

  “How are you doing? How are they? Your brothers, I mean? It has to be difficult for all of you.”

  Leave it to Georgianna to focus on everyone else—including three strangers she’d never even met. The woman was a miracle. “I can’t speak for them since I haven’t seen them after we left the lawyer’s office, but I’m doin’ okay.”

  “Are you?”

  His mind traveled to the box of scrapbooks, and the one that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to open yet. “I’m gettin’ there.”

  “He loved you. And I’m sure he loved your brothers. Family was so important to Dusty.”

  “Even though he couldn’t be there for ours?” Yeah, guess he still had some work to do on that bitterness.

  “He was there as much as he could be. He was there when he needed to be.”

  A memory flashed across his mental big screen. His childish whoops of happiness while his little legs pumped away, trying to keep his Schwinn bike upright as he flew down the sidewalk. Dusty jogging beside him, his shouts of encouragement alternating with his radiant smiles.