by Scott, Talyn
Turning away from the intensity of his aqua-colored gaze, she smiled widely as Libby twirled by with a man twice her age, his stare blatantly fixated on the curvature of her breasts. “I hope you patched things up with your…” Conquest, fuck buddy, the gorgeous blonde who warned Payton against pursuing him.
“No, you don’t.” Dylan spun her in a tight circle, keeping her near a gas lit fireplace and away from the crowd when a rather attractive man tried to cut-in. Without a trace of arrogance, he added, “Or you wouldn’t have kissed me after she bolted.”
Oh, he was pretty and smart, a powerful combination. “I’m afraid I was quite wasted, Mr. Easton.”
“I hear Mr. Easton all day.” His hand on her lower back, his fingers grazed the top of her ass. “You will call me Dylan from now on.”
“All right, Dylan.” She had no clue what heated her more, the flaming fireplace or the blistering man. A bead of perspiration made its way down her cleavage, which didn’t go unnoticed by Dylan. “Like I said, I was wasted. Normally, I don’t make out with strangers in corridors or stairways.” She cleared her throat and his eyes snapped up from her breasts, their heat magnifying by a thousand degrees.
“Blame it on the drink, if you must. But there’s something to be said about freeing your inhibitions, Payton, and I think you were free that night.” He leaned down, closing their distance in height, and pressed his warm lips against the tender hollow beneath her ear. “With me.”
Another whirl placed his knee briefly between her thighs. Although her dress was uncomfortably tight, her slight thong offered no protection and she melted for him intimately. Since she had also melted for Avery just yesterday, similarly moving against Dylan should bother her somewhat. Shouldn't it? “Tonight, I won’t be drinking, so my inhibitions will stay in check,” she warned, pressing her hand against his chest and feeling his heart thundering beneath her fingertips, moving her other hand to his biceps.
Dylan lifted his head from her ear, now looking down at her. “Are you implying you need a drink to want me?”
“No, I’m saying we won’t be repeating what happened.” Her internet sleuthing confirmed that Dylan Easton was a proven man-whore, a classic heartbreaker she’d best avoid outside her dreams, though she still had to think of the firehouse. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be friends.”
“Friends?” Dylan Easton may be a rich playboy with a breezy desk job and jet setting lifestyle, but his frame was that of a warrior, nearly the same as Avery. His dirty blonde hair sleeked back from his forehead, his roguish stubble shining flaxen under the chandeliers, his eyes glistening from the leaping flames in the nearby hearth, the aqua swirling into a turbulent sea-foam. “So that’s it? This is where we stand?” A wave of rippling muscles stiffened his body. “ A few days ago we shared an intense attraction, which only whetted my appetite, and now you’re saying its over.”
“People are staring.”
“That’s my life, every move recorded, reviewed, and judged by strangers.” Cupping her elbow, Dylan smiled and nodded politely at onlookers when they passed through the crowd. He easily directed her to a darkened corridor fashioned with a mirror-tiled archway. Sconces lit the way, but they weren’t welcoming when coupled with his sudden frosty demeanor, his purposeful gait. After they emerged in the back of Hytel Plume’s lobby, two women literally dove at him, their five-inch heels clattering on the hand painted tiles, their perfectly plucked eyebrows alight with surprise and desire. Neither of them cared he had his hand on Payton. He shook his head no, stopping the women midway with a chilling glare, and steered Payton to an imposing limestone wall supporting three gilded cage elevators.
Gaping at the elevators, Payton hadn’t even detected the opening he discretely ushered her through before they were inside a small room the size of the three elevator cars. He slid the mahogany, pocket door closed, locking it with an ominous click. An overstuffed, one-armed velvet sofa lined one mirrored wall, covered in the exact plum she’d seen in the grand foyer of the hotel. Against the opposite narrow wall — this one also mirrored, was a high side table in the same mahogany as the door, its dark wood gleaming from two sconces flanked three feet apart. The side table held nothing other than a replica rotary phone in black and white. At least, she thought it was a replica.
Avoiding the velvet sofa, she dropped her purse on the side table, leaning her butt on its edge and crossing her arms over her chest. “How many women have you brought here for privacy?”
“Are you jealous?”
Unfortunately, she was, but she wasn’t divulging that minor tidbit. “I won’t be anyone’s faceless notch.”
“I haven’t been in here since I was a child, hiding from my aunt after I got kicked out of boarding school for the third, fourth, or maybe the fifteenth time.”
“I didn’t realized your family owned this hotel, too.” So after his parents had died in the tower fire, his aunt had been appointed his guardian. “Well, with all those camera phones waiting to go off when we crawl out of here, I’ll be posted online as your,” she stalled when she looked into his eyes. Could that be raw vulnerability hidden behind the mask of a reckless playboy?
He stepped forward, his body a hairsbreadth from hers. “I’ll have my publicist make an official statement to the contrary.”
A nice offer that wouldn’t work. “Don’t bother.” Her eyes dropped from his face, admiring how his shoulders filled out his tuxedo. Dylan had omitted the goofy bow tie most men wore, replacing it with a thin, cream silk necktie that had to have cost more than her old Corolla was worth. “I think an official statement would stir more interest. Don’t you?”
Holding out his hand, he waited patiently until she slipped her palm in his. “Of course it would, but I refuse to have you labeled as one of my lays.”
“Dylan Easton, you confuse me.”
“Ditto, but there isn’t enough confusion in the world to ruin this moment for me.” Lowering himself on the small sofa, his legs spread wide in that guy way, he pulled Payton next to him.
“This isn’t a moment.” Shifting until she was able to sit comfortably without ripping her borrowed dress, she inhaled slowly but it didn’t help, her lungs now filled with scents of him. One inch separated their bodies, and Payton’s anxiety spiked with thoughts of falling into Dylan’s well-worn trap. No matter what she pretended, she was over her head for him.
“Payton,” he commanded, curling his finger under her chin and preventing her from hiding, “forget everything but breathing.”
His mouth slanted over hers, his lips brushing softly as opposed to the way he had plundered her in the corridor. His hands now on each of her wrists, he pulled them over his shoulders and entwined them around his neck. Payton couldn’t resist running her fingertips through the soft hair covering his crisp, white collar. Dylan nipped at her lips, once, twice, before licking for entrance, but she denied him. If she welcomed his tongue inside her mouth, stroking hers in that velvety way, she would drown with no hope of propelling her way to the surface until he was finished with her. He maintained contact, brushing and licking, nipping at the corners of her mouth to coax her. His fingers moving up and down her spine, he trailed his index finger across the base of her head, feather light, until he reached the junction of her firmly closed mouth. He pressed his fingertip inside, worming his way in, prying her open and finally slipping his tongue over hers, curling, possessing her in a way most men couldn’t pull off with a simple kiss. But, somehow, Payton realized this kiss wasn’t a typical prelude to seduction.
Not for her.
Certainly not for Dylan.
But what did it mean?
8
“Too long without this,” Dylan whispered over her plump lips, wet from his kisses. Now he knew, without a doubt, why Avery wanted Payton for more than his mistress. Why his cousin wasn't acting remotely like himself. He didn’t want to risk losing this precious gem, and why should Avery take that risk? When Dylan first saw her face while staring
from his perch in the upstairs lobby, he was washed clean somehow. Payton was everything he’d forgotten, everything he had dreamt of a decade ago, before all was lost. When he had suffered. Good God, how he’d suffered! But here she was, a dream come to life with flowing red hair draping her shoulders, her figure fuller than others, yet just the way he preferred. Payton Calloway was made for his hands, his mouth, and his untamed cock. He desired her. She fed his desire. In turn, he would stoke and feed hers. Make her want him enough to ignore the horrific darkness tainting his soul.
The sin he’d committed.
Could Payton bury these last wounds, bring him to the life he craved but hadn’t so far accomplished? Was that asking too much from a sexually aggressive man who required more: his chosen lover surrendering not only to him, but also hopefully to Avery?
When he left her mouth to whisper encouragements into her tiny ear, she called his name in a plea, “Dylan.”
“That’s it,” he coaxed. “Let me have you.” His teeth tapped hers as he delved for more, his tongue burrowing into her mouth until she had no other choice but to relax or leave him cold. She rubbed her breasts against his chest, no doubt unconsciously, her body beginning to capitulate and allowing him the control he was fighting for inch by inch. Payton’s hands left his hair and gripped his shoulders, holding on to his strength. That’s what he wanted, to be strong for her, every damned day.
Her skin heating beneath his palms, he reveled in way her needy body trembled for him. In practiced precision, he located her zipper with ease, drawing it down several inches to loosen her bodice.
She pulled back as he lowered his head to the fabric, tugging it over her right mound, grazing his teeth across the valley of her lushness and easing down the left side to bare every inch of her breasts. All Dylan could think was perfectly ripe, her soft pillows begging for his lips, the deep cleavage perfect for stroking his cock before unloading his release inside her welcoming mouth. As he continued to stare openly, admiring a fraction of the beauty that made up this amazing creature, he felt that hole in his chest fill a little bit. He dipped his head to claim ownership of her breasts with his tongue. She gasped, stiffened, and then her delicate hands left his body and pressed against each rosy nipple.
“Why are you hiding those beautiful nipples, Payton?” The thought of her denying him what was his nearly drove Dylan bug-fuck. “You knew what I was doing, when I unzipped you,” he said, licking around her fingers, tasting the porcelain flesh of her breast. He would make her wild for him, and she would forget this shyness. “Move your hands, my bashful sweetheart.”
“But… Avery.”
“What about Avery?” He kept his mouth where it was, her taste honeysuckle on his tongue. Gently, he gripped one of her fragile wrists, tugging, but she wouldn’t give in.
“He’s your cousin.”
She meant to pull back, but he growled against her breast, staying her with his primordial warning. “I am aware.”
“He kissed me, too.”
“I am also aware.” He placed a fiery palm beneath her ass and lifted her one-handed onto his lap. She may not be petite, but her weight was nothing in comparison to his strength. “He’s not here. I am. The boundaries between Avery and I aren’t disputed. Ever.”
Kissing her softly, kissing her expertly, kissing her with a firmness that suggested his urgency without scaring her half to death, he continued to gentle her with his soft touch. Roughness, urgency, could come later. They must have kissed ten more minutes, maybe twenty. Although Dylan had always left his lovers and conquests well sated, he’d never experienced this sort of patience for a woman. Dare he say patience for her innocence? She certainly seemed innocent, but that was impossible. His hand moved to her tailbone and the other moved around her ribcage. The steel length of his erection found its way beneath her core as he moved them impossibly closer. “Already I care for you.” When his mouth blazed a trail across the front of her throat, grazing his teeth over her pulse point, her body slackened more. And to his pleasure, Payton Calloway forgot everything worrying her and breathed, exactly the way he’d wanted her to from the start. He stared into her hooded emerald eyes, stormy with lust, and demanded, “Move your hands. I know you want me. I dare you to act on it.”
“You’re asking me to lose myself to you and then what?” She half-dropped her hands, the curves of her berry-colored nipples calling for his mouth. “I’m not like your other…women.”
He reached up and traced the curves of her breasts. “You don’t have to tell me what I already know.”
She chewed her lip, her breaths coming out in flaming hot pants. “But, I’m not…prepared to -”
“I am.” Hastily yanking out his condom-filled wallet, he flicked it on the table behind them, the table's waist-high height perfect for fucking, particularly with mirrors front and back. He could watch his cock slide in and out of her from all angles. Watch those delicious tits jiggle with each thrust. On that thought, he brought his mouth to her again, this time winning the war with her breasts and exposing the creamy soft skin to his awaiting tongue.
She gasped when he suckled the nearest one all the way to the back of his throat, exerting enough pressure with his tongue to promote an erotic burn just short of pain. Whimpering above him, he hooked his arm around her waist and took his free hand to her opposite breast, elongating the nipple with precise manipulation. The only thing that would improve these beauties, he thought wickedly, would be if they were pierced. But the idea of another, besides Avery, seeing her pretty secrets shot down that idea quickly. Surprising him since jealousy hadn’t darkened his door in at least decade.
Staring up her chest, her eyes were unfocused, her lips parted. “I want to take you for myself, hide you away from the world. You are perfect.” He pinched one nipple while lightly biting the other. She gasped and Dylan felt her heart pounding against his tongue as he continued his assault. The sounds coming from Payton were nearly his undoing, his cock throbbing right along with her precious heartbeat. He’d never been this close to release, while still fully clothed, since he was a horny teenager.
“I only regret,” he started. In one fluid movement, Dylan had her faced down on the side table. His fingers sensuously moved beneath her long curls, swiftly fisting a handful of the red fire at her nape. “That we haven’t enough time to draw this out for long hours.” Leaning over her, he captured Payton’s curvy legs with the strength of his thighs, moving his free arm around to tilt her face to the side and bringing them eye-to-eye. “But I’ll be damned if I can wait another minute without feeling you gripping me, sweetheart.”
“But my dress.” She pushed her hands against the table, trying to back up, but he effectively enclosed her. “Don’t fret over your dress.” He finished unzipping it, revealing more and more of the creamy skin he wanted to taste and nibble. And he would as soon as he could excuse himself from this fundraiser. “There,” he murmured in awe, when her evening gown dropped to her ankles. “It’s out of our way.” His hands almost trembling, he gathered the garment and fanned it across the sofa to prevent wrinkling. Payton was more exquisite than his imaginings, and Dylan had imagined a lot - in vivid detail.
“I’m nervous,” she admitted.
Trying to form his words, his body going rigid at the sight of Payton Calloway in her high-heeled sandals and a skimpy thong, Dylan nearly choked on his reply, “Nervousness is superior to bored.”
She locked eyes with his reflection, trying not to hide. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”
Maintaining eye contact, Dylan lifted his hands to her ample hips, squeezing her cushiony flesh. Apart from a few inside Level 69, he’d never shown a woman his ultimate form of dominance, but with Payton, he was fighting to keep his inner dominant caged. He wanted nothing more than to pin her against the wall and show her what he could do to her sublime ass.
Holding her steady with one hand, he reached between her legs. Dylan knew he was masterful in stroking carnality, that his ha
nds could arouse her quickly, keeping her dangling until she begged for completion. If only they were afforded the time, he’d do that and more, so much more. Sliding his fingers around the elastic of her thong, he found moisture trickling down the tops of her thighs. “What do you have here, Payton?”
Lifting her hips, she arched into his hand. Payton’s lips red and swollen from their delicious kissing, she whispered, “Me.”
“You, huh? I wonder what I’ll find between your legs.” He moved behind her, released his brick-hard cock, and nudged the thick head all over the globes of her ass, painting her with the beginnings of his come. Marking her. “Do you wax, shave or…” He slipped his fingers inside the scrap of silk, soothing her swollen labia with his warm fingertips, his thumb and forefinger moving to her hardened nub and pinching lightly. Oh, he could lose himself in the silk haven of her body until he drew his last breath. But what he found was so surprising that a shot of come left his cock. He took a deep breath, fighting the zing pulsating up his spine, hitting his balls. “I’ll be damned, Payton Calloway, you keep it native. And you are a natural redhead, right?”
“Y-yes,” she groaned
“I can’t wait to see, to taste.” She undulated against him, trying to work his fingers inside her swollen core. He pushed up to his first knuckle, circling and retreating, tantalizing her snug opening. He frowned at how tight she felt, hoping she would loosen up before he entered her or he wouldn’t be putting himself in her tonight. “Feels good?”
“Y-yeah.”
“Relax then.” After moving her thong to the side, Dylan lifted his fingers to his mouth, tasting her for the first time. Eyes rolling in the back of his head, he purred, “Delicious.” He would cut off his right arm for a daily dose of Payton running down his throat. Dylan moved his hand to his sex and rolled his thumb over the crown of his glistening penis. Then pushing his length against her sleek heat, teasing her with what was to come, he rubbed himself straight across her nether lips in one slow stroke after another. Back and forth. Back and forth. He would let Payton find out about his frenum ladder upon his first actual thrust. “Imagine what this is going to feel like from the inside.” Her first orgasm for him, he wouldn’t allow until he was nestled deep. Selfish? Maybe, but he wanted everything Payton could give, and her orgasms were his for the taking.
