by Stahl, Shey
When he didn’t say anything, I begged for more.
“Touch me,” I pleaded shifting my weight forward into him. His breath on my skin remained steady unlike mine.
“I can’t. I told you, I’m hanging on by a fucking thread right now…but…I gotta say brown eyes,” he smirked into my neck but kept his voice low. “This side of you is fucking sexy.”
“What side?” I giggled. “The side that’s drinking and pole dancing?”
“No.” His lips found my heated skin marking me with his kiss. “The side that knows what she wants and what makes her feel alive. That’s sexy.”
“So you like this side?” I was trying to push him over the edge, trying for more, begging for his touch, his words, his love.
“It’s you,” he whispered pushing his hips into mine once more. “What wouldn’t I like about it?”
Lanny and Reece came over, holding hands, and eyed our seating arrangement. “You guys heading out tomorrow?”
Dylan nodded rubbing my back lightly to keep me seated in his lap. “Yeah, we’re gonna meet up with my uncle Kyle in Dodge City Saturday night.”
“You never told me that.” I said lifting my head to look at Dylan.
“He sent me a text tonight.” His head dipped once to the pole I just got to know. “I was going to tell you but we got sidetracked.”
Shrugging, I looked back at Lanny and Reece as they moved closer. Lanny reached out, her hand on my shoulder. “Well.” Untangling myself from Dylan as she spoke, I stood beside her when she pulled me into a hug. “It was nice meeting you Bailey.”
We said goodbyes so everyone, Dylan and Eddy spoke for a few moments but Dylan was, in fact, worked up and it was evident he wanted to get back to the hotel room.
His hands were all over me on the way back, on my legs, between them, constantly touching, his breathing heavy, thick with desire. I was the same. During the two-mile drive back to the hotel, my lips never left his skin as he whispered all the things he wanted to do to me.
It was exactly what I wanted. Of all my more intimate times with Eric, it was never like this. Right now, I felt as if Dylan wanted me, truly wanted me.
Dylan carried me from the car to the door of the hotel; thankfully, his hands never left my skin, lips attached to mine. To open the door, he had to look in order to get the card key in the door but other than that, we were back at it once the door was closed. Without his touch, my skin burned. Without his kiss, I was panting but with it, I was gasping.
Dylan seemed to be on the same page. When I landed on the bed, his hardness confirmed it.
“I couldn’t slow down if I wanted to, brown eyes,” he moaned pressing me into the mattress answering my unspoken question. “I need to feel you against my skin, hear you in the worst way.”
I was sure we were finally going to have sex and would have bet money on it.
Sitting up on his knees, he ripped his shirt over his head. His stare was between my legs watching my fingers work on the button of my shorts. My shirt was already off, lying next to me, when Dylan pressed forward, once gaining some friction. His eyes closed at the sensation, as did mine.
Then his shorts were off leaving us both in our underwear and looking like this would be the night, the moment by innocence was taken. Reaching inside his underwear, my hand found him.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, his head fell forward, the muscles in his shoulders flexing as he hovered over me. “I really want you brown eyes.”
“Then take me.” I whispered, my voice trembling, he knew I was nervous. How could I not be?
He sighed and looked over my face, shaking his head. “We can’t…”
“Why?” You couldn’t miss the annoyance in my tone that he was turning me down, again.
“We’re drunk...” he said this as if I should have known. Then his head dipped forward. “…but we can do other things.” Steading himself, his hands on either side of my face, he gave me his full weight.
“Why won’t you Dylan? Don’t you want me, that way?”
He said nothing. And that frustrated me. Not only was he denying me what I so desperately wanted, he wouldn’t tell me why other than we couldn’t.
“Jesus, enough already, what’s your deal? Why won’t you?” I threw my hands up beside me, they landed back on the bed with a thud, waiting for an answer but got nothing but a blank stare. “I’m practically begging you. And you’ve had sex before, what’s the big deal?”
“I’m not that guy,” he sighed, frustrated and confused just like me, his eyes searching mine. “You think you know but you don’t.”
I learned just how true that statement was. Through smoke filled ice blue, I learned what he meant. I learned what he was singing about.
Do you see it?
Do you hear it?
Can you feel it?
“I won’t do it while we’re drunk and I’ve never been with a virgin before,” he sighed shifting his weight to lean to one side, most of his weight supported by his elbows. His fingertips made a slow path from my lips, to my collarbone and down the valley between my breasts. “What’s the rush? It’s only been a week.”
“I know…” I said feeling silly for rushing into this.
I felt his grin against my neck. “Right here?” He asked low-pitched and short of breath, rubbing his length harder against my tingle-aching need. “Just like this? You like that, right?”
I nodded quickly, holding on while he made the room spin. He rocked harder and I could feel him so well and kept thinking to myself so this is dry humping. I remembered the girls in school talking about dry humping and how enjoyable it was. I could definitely see why.
“I’ve wanted you all day,” he whispered, lips brushing my lips as he moved. “I woke up thinking about you all day and night while I was on stage and then that fucking pole...” his voice trailed off at the end and drifted into a growl. It reminded me of that moan he did on stage tonight, the one that sent shivers from my head to my toes.
My eyelids clenched shut tighter and I felt my stomach tingle as Dylan whispered lower and forced more pressure right where I needed him most.
“I thought about you on your knees, brown eyes,” he told me almost softly. “I thought about you holding onto that pole while I made you scream.”
I clutched onto his shoulders desperately as the wetness between my legs began to seep through my underwear, coating him as he glided back and forth. He felt it and growled against my lips. I come in shiver-shaking waves as Dylan helped me ride it out.
But he didn’t stop moving against me, no, he was breathing heavier than before chasing that same earth shattering feeling I was reveling in.
“You know how fucking insane you make me?” he growled.
I smiled knowing, feeling, sliding my hands up his neck, into his hair. “Maybe,” I breathed out, shy and hopeful that it was the truth. “Maybe...”
“Maybe?” He echoed pulling back, watching my eyes, his left brow raised curiously.
I dragged my right hand from the back of his head down his chest, reaching between us. “Show me,” I whispered.
Dylan chuckled, shaking his head and catching my hand and putting it over my head to rest against the pillows. His hand gripped my wrist firmly while the other one stayed on my ass.
“Show me,” I said, more than a whisper this time, pulling against his grip to reach for him again.
He laughed but it was darker, menacing undertones and more threatening than warning. “Don’t push me, brown eyes.”
But I did because it was the only way I know right now. With him, like this, beneath him, I pushed.
I pushed, and he pinned, easily keeping my hands from him and overpowering.
My heart roared in my chest and I could feel my face contorted in anger. Why did he have to hold back with me when he’s done this before? Why me?
“If I was like the other girls, you would,” I taunted. “You wouldn’t even fucking hesitate to fuck―”
“Watch your mou
th, Bailey,” Dylan replied, steady and too calm. So dangerously comfortable in this position that it made me nervous. There was a lot of things that made me nervous about Dylan, this being the one at the top of the list. His confidence.
But it wasn’t enough to discourage or dissuade my resentment for this situation. I wanted him and I was throwing myself at him every night only to have him stop me.
“Show me!” I demand again, my voice straining. “Show me you want me like I want you―”
I was cut off by Dylan letting my hands go, his body pressed possessively against me. “Stop it. You don’t have any idea.”
“You don’t have any idea,” I shouted back, pushing at both of his hands, trying to twist free from his arms.
He jerked my body more firmly to his and held me tighter.
I tried to fight it, but I couldn’t. My fight wasn’t wholehearted, because part of me wanted this. So much of me craving this kind of invincibility. Dylan moved his hips again; I felt his want between my legs, hard, possessive, controlling.
“Have you thought about it?” he asked his voice is hot under my left ear, his pitch restrained. “Have you imagined what it’s going to be like, brown eyes?” His hips moved faster, harder, his grunts and groans showed me what I wasn’t seeing. “How it’s going to feel?”
Do you see it?
Do you hear it?
Can you feel it?
I couldn’t answer because yes, I have thought of it, long before we left and now, I couldn’t stop. There was a conviction in his voice I have never felt before, never saw, heard, or felt.
And then it made sense, that song was about this, us, me, him.
“Have you thought about what it’s going to be like when I’m right here?” He asked, drawing a slow circle with his hips. He moved at his own pace, holding me tight, dropping his voice as his body rocked against me. “Do you know how it’s going to feel when you wrap your arms around me the first time I’m inside you, brown eyes?”
“Dylan.”
I couldn’t take it. I was ready and willingly to do whatever he asked as long as this feeling and his touch never left.
But Dylan wasn’t letting up that easy and pushed against me harder, deeper, practically inside me but he wasn’t, only fabric separating us.
His voice, like on stage, came from deep within. “Have you thought about how good it’s going to be when I’m so fucking deep in you and there’s nothing separating us?”
“Jesus…” I gasped trying to catch my breath, my legs and entire body began to shutter, tremble and literally seize at his words and movements. I felt like I did when we were running, like any minute I was going to pass out.
“Have you thought about how amazing it’s going to feel the first time you come on my dick?”
His words, his touch, his kisses were everywhere, showing me exactly what I had been missing.
“Do you have any fucking idea how much I want you?” His body tensed, eyebrows squeezed together, evident of how much he wanted me by the movement of his hips. “Do you know?” He gave a sharp grunt and pushed forward sharply. “Do you fucking know?”
“Please,” I huffed, needed and I pleaded, all breath and no air.
“Please what?” Dylan grunted. The force of his hips pushing into me moved my body slowly up the bed until I my head was now hitting the headboard.
“Show me,” I whimpered, feeling my body start to shake. “Show me how bad you want me.”
The sounds he was making were coming from his chest and I felt it resonating throughout me. He pushed harder, faster, leaning his forehead against my cheek, his hair falling in my eyes.
“I want to be inside you. I want you so fucking bad...” His breathing felt as shallow as my own. He was past being so in control, to every bit as defenseless, and dependent as me. “I want to rip your fucking underwear off and have my way with you,” he groaned again as he buried his face in my neck and made me scream as his body shook above mine, moaning, curving into me as his knees spread my legs further and his hips jerked forward. I could feel him harden, still grunting in my ear as he trembled, wetness now seeping into me from him. “Fuck…” he moaned that same moan from earlier tonight on stage.
“Dylan…” I breathed kissing his neck.
“Kiss me,” he whispered, long lashes lowered, gasping for breath. “Kiss me, brown eyes...”
I felt the tip of his tongue and his lips open more, and I kissed him deeper.
Handling me with care as my breathing slowed and my shivers started to calm, Dylan blew a long breath out and eased his body from mine. He lied down on his back next to me and curved his right hand with my left. “Do you believe me now?”
Other than a nod, I couldn’t form a word.
What just happened?
After showering, we were lying in the bed deciding what time we would head for Dodge City when his phone kept ringing. It wasn’t the first time that it went off in one of these ringing fits but it was also too early for it to be ringing.
Dylan leaned over the side of the bed to reach for it. Annoyed at the name that flashed again, he picked it up and whispered-yelled, “Just leave me the fuck alone!” Before he threw it across the room.
“Who was it, Dylan?” I asked, leaning my back against his chest.
“Your dad,” he answered quickly, his arms circling around me again.
“Why?”
Dylan groaned, sitting up straight. I sat up; he pulled me back against him. “Why what, Bailey?”
“Why is he calling you at four in the morning? Why is he calling you at all?”
He didn’t answer me.
I turned in his arms, up on my knees, in front of him. Dylan wouldn’t look at me and I was wondering why. I leaned back on my calves. Dylan touched my bare knee. “Let’s just close our eyes. We should get a little more sleep before we head out.”
“No,” I shook my head. “Why is he calling you?”
Dylan’s jaw clenched, his eyes squinted. “You didn’t think he would let his only daughter leave with me that easily, did you?” He laughed, but it was a venomous and spiteful laugh.
“I guess not.”
He gripped my hips tighter and turned his face back to my neck when I relaxed against him.
I felt him breathing through his nose. I heard my own, the rain outside, and his phone, muffled against his jeans on the floor, but I heard his phone, and it pulled me out of my haze.
What did my dad want? Why did reality have to come crashing back? Why couldn’t we just stay in a bubble of bucket lists, crazy hitchhikers and bars? Why did I have to think of my life back home and what was happening without me?
What if something was wrong with Jeb? What if something happened to him and I wasn’t there? Honestly, I missed him, I did.
“Has he left any messages?” My stomach twisted in thoughts.
Dylan kissed my skin with his tongue and teeth, ignoring the sound of his phone and my question until it stopped. Then it started again, and I hated it. It made my heart feel pinched and hurt and bothered, because behind my smeared sunrises and cracks in the curtains, was a revealed truth. Reality. We left home with no plan and not a care in the world. But we couldn’t ignore the reality of it. The ringing phone was evidence of that.
I pushed Dylan’s shoulders. “Stop,” I told him. “Your phone’s ringing, stop. You should see what he wants.”
He didn’t stop. He kissed up from my neck, around my jaw again, continuing to ignore the sound of a third call.
“Dylan, stop,” I said again, stronger this time.
Pulling away abruptly, Dylan stood beside the bed reaching for his phone and when he found it, he practically jerked the battery out, and tossed both pieces across the room. “You stop,” he warned, meeting my eyes. He wasn’t angry. He didn’t raise his voice, but he was serious. He grabbed my hips and pulled me closer to the edge of the bed. “None of that shit matters, brown eyes. Be with me…here.”
I swallowed holding onto his hands,
feeling him hold onto me. My thoughts, my feelings, the ice blue mixed with the gray in the room, shadows and smoke, everything swirled at his touch.
“Okay,” I nodded. “Okay.”
He swallowed too and leaned back down, pressing his lips to my lips again. His kisses were heavier this time, his bites on my skin harder. His hands glided down my thighs and gripped, and squeezed, alternating between tight and gentle. His attention soothed just as it started to thrill again.
I tried not to think, to feel, to do anything but be with Dylan the way I wanted, feeling the magic between us, feeling it the way he wanted me to. We may not have been having sex but there was a passion between us, a spark that wasn’t going to be put out easily.
“I’m here, brown eyes,” Dylan said against my skin. He spoke low and soft, sure words, but he sounded tortured underneath his careful tone. “Be here with me.”
“I am here,” I told him, trying to make myself be, even as my heart was telling me there was something in his words that I might have been missing. “I’m here,” I said again, trying so hard.
“Then fucking be here,” he quietly scolded knowing, hushed and threatening, gripping tighter and pulling me closer. Moving down my body, pushing the sheets and his flannel I was wearing aside to reveal bare skin, he brought my right hip right under his lips and closed them over me. I cried out at the roughness of his kiss. Groaning, he sucked and bit, digging his teeth in. I could feel my blood rushing from my heart to under his lips.
He hummed and groaned, and breathed hot over his mark, playing my body as well as he did the crowd the other night. His hands and lips softened and I let go of my hesitance and let the adrenaline he lit in my veins run its course. Tugging on his shoulders gently, my brain and heart spun into emotions I’d never felt before, hurt and surrendered, and needing, too many different feelings.
I just wanted him.
“Dylan?” I whispered so quietly I barely heard myself. I blinked and my eyelashes felt wet. I didn’t mean to cry. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t.
“Shhhh, don’t cry.” His voice was strong. “Don’t cry.” His voice was soft at the same time and he moved up my stomach, kissing me as he made a slow path. “Don’t cry over this. It’s not worth it.”
