“Now it’s Thanksgiving,” Dylan said as he dug into his piece.
“Not yet,” I said with a smile as I rolled a plastic, glittery yo-yo down a newly straightened string. His eyes were wide as it returned back up the string to my hand. I was pleased with how impressed he looked, like I had performed a magic trick.
My appetite came back in a big way as I dug into my own piece of pie. The taste of that creamy orange goodness instantly connected me to all my good memories of this holiday, rescuing it from the ashes at last.
And for the first time in a year and a half, I knew I had one very important thing for which to be grateful.
I wasn’t alone anymore. I wasn’t weird. I wasn’t one of ‘the others.’ Dylan Fenn accepted me.
I had a new place to belong.
28: Bubbly
November 20, 2007
Finally the car skidded to a stop on the gravel in front of the cabin. Our cheeks were rosy and our breath frosty as we hit the cold air that hinted at snow. “I’m so glad I packed my long underwear,” Dylan winked, which made Meghan and me laugh.
“And I packed the bourbon,” I quipped, which made him laugh, too.
“You just became my favorite person on the trip,” he replied.
I cocked an eyebrow. “You mean I wasn’t before?”
He walked around the car to pull me into a side hug. “Favoriter,” he amended with a kiss on my upturned nose.
“Gross,” Meghan groaned as she pulled her suitcase up the paved walkway to the cabin.
“Looks like we offended the gentle sensibilities of a teenager,” he mused. “Let’s do it again.” He bent his head to plant a legitimate kiss on my mouth, immediately deepening it as he clutched me close.
I was a lot warmer when he pulled away, and Meghan simply shook her head at the hopeless, embarrassing adults. “Please tell me I have my own room,” she said as we joined her at the door.
He just gave her a cockeyed grin as he swung open the door to a massive two-story cabin with warm paneled walls, and a huge brick fireplace that beckoned us into the inviting room. “Dylan,” I breathed. “You shouldn’t have spent this kind of money.”
He chuckled. “I didn’t spend any money.” He led us inside and closed the door, and the wintery weather, behind us. “It’s my Dad’s.”
I could see the personal touches as I inspected the room. There were photos on the mantle, mostly of the mysterious Father Fenn, who looked like an older version of Dylan, if you added some gray to his hair and took away all his good humor.
He was still handsome and quite obviously master over all he surveyed.
It must have been a family trait.
But the cabin itself was spectacular, with hardwood floors and high-beamed ceilings, a full gourmet kitchen and three bedrooms. The enclosed patio out back even had its own hot tub and bar.
“You’ll have to thank him for us for letting us stay for the holiday.”
“Yeah, about that,” Dylan said. “He doesn’t really know.”
“Dylan,” I admonished but he offered a good-humored shrug.
“It’s not like he ever gets back west anyway. It sits unused except for a couple of caretakers. I figured this year I’d just keep it all in the family.” I wasn’t really convinced so he added, “I do it all the time. At least two or three times a year since I was eighteen. It’s okay, Roni. I promise.”
For a split second I wondered how many other women he had brought up here to romance but I quickly dashed the thought. Worrying about the past or the future only fucked up the moment, especially where Dylan Fenn was concerned.
So we set up the kitchen while Dylan unloaded the car. I prepared some hot chocolate while he started a fire, and Meghan sat on her computer trying to figure out an itinerary. I sat between them on the couch as they planned their day.
“I definitely want to ski,” she said.
“Fantastic,” Dylan responded. “I love to ski.”
“Y’all have fun,” I said before I sipped my hot chocolate.
“You don’t ski?” Dylan asked.
“You’ve seen me dance,” I replied. “I barely stay upright on two feet.”
“Bullshit,” he grinned. “Remember when you and Bryan did the dance to Footloose at the White Party?”
Meghan nearly choked on her cocoa. “You did what?”
“How much of yourself have you concealed from this child?” he asked me.
“Apparently all the fun stuff,” Meghan answered for me. “That settles it. We’re skiing.”
I shook my head. “I’d prefer not to spend Thanksgiving wrapped around a tree, thank you.”
“Fine, then we’ll do the zipline,” she compromised.
“So my choice is ‘or death?’” I said, invoking one of our favorite comedy routines.
Despite my futile protests, Dylan and Meghan managed to get me back into my jacket, back out of the cabin and on our way to the zipline course. All the way I argued that I was too fat to participate, but as it turns out, I wasn’t. Not by a long shot. Embarrassingly I had to be weighed to be sure, and I feared that dreaded scale telling me that I had finally cracked the 200-pound barrier again. But my weight remained steady at 183 pounds. Though I was technically 28 pounds overweight according to the BMI chart, I was safely under the 250-pound limit for our particular activity. Meghan nudged me with her elbow. “See? I told you that you weren’t as big as you think,” she said.
Dylan grinned. “I could have told you that,” he added.
With all of my arguments aside from blind fear nullified, I signed the waiver and got into the Jeep with the rest of the crazy people who thought sailing down a wire in a mountain was a good idea.
Or should I say, sailing down a total of nine ziplines. Our three-hour tour would consist of various rides in various levels, at speeds reaching more than forty miles an hour. Nothing they told me made me feel any better about what we were about to do, and I was trembling so bad that Dylan put his arm around me, thinking I was cold.
Meghan, however, was practically hopping in her seat. This was just her kind of activity. She had been born a hell-raiser and a risk-taker. I still suspected she might have been swapped at birth.
When we reached that first platform, I opted to go last, so that I could watch how Dylan and Meghan did it before I gave it a try. Meghan went first, listening intently to her instructor before she sailed off. As I watched her literally fly away from me, it occurred to me that was what she had been doing since the day she was born. This amazing person, who had her own thoughts, opinions, dreams and desires, had her own path to cut in this world. She was strong and confident, which I had always attributed to Wade.
But like a brick wall it hit me that Wade had very little to do with her upbringing. He had delegated it all to me while he took over the business world and romanced a revolving door of women.
I had raised her to be that way. And it was everything I never could bring myself to be.
Tears chilled on my cheeks as I whooped just as loud as she did, watching her land safely on the other side, victorious and jubilant.
Dylan was next. “Kiss for luck,” he said as he leaned close. I indulged him and he was smiling as he pulled away. “See you on the other side, provided we both don’t plummet to our deaths first,” he grinned.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You suck, Dylan Fenn.”
“Yes, I do,” he affirmed as he cocked his eyebrow and touched his tongue practically to his nose before he took off. He was predictably excellent. He hollered as he sailed through the air like a bird, and Meghan jumped up and down until he reached her on the other side, throwing herself into his arms as he landed on the platform.
Then it was my turn. I was 120 feet from joining them, from being one of them. The instructor gave me my final instructions as I was buckled into the harness. “You’re going to be great,” he promised and I nodded, though my heart was lodged somewhere in my throat.
And then I was off, sailing throug
h the trees like a bird. I screamed the whole way, but what started out as terror ended up just as jubilant as my daughter as I reached the both of them. Meghan practically jumped into my arms and Dylan took us both into a hug.
The ride got a lot more fun after that, and on our very last zipline, over 800 feet, we were even treated to a gentle snowfall. Dylan caught me with a kiss to reward me for all my bravery. Then he whispered, “Now you know what it feels like whenever I touch you,” he murmured against my ear. “You are the reason I fly, Roni.”
I got lost in those warm eyes. “Ditto.”
We joined our tour group and headed back down the mountain. Barbara, who was a lodge-owner from the village, invited us to join them for dinner. I glanced at Meghan, who was shyly smiling at Barbara’s handsome blond son, Taylor. These two athletic, beautiful teens had clicked immediately throughout our three-hour expedition, so the question had already been answered.
We didn’t leave the lodge until eleven that night, and by then that asshole Kyle had long been forgotten. Meghan was smitten with a boy who knew how to say please and thank you, hold open doors and shake hands. He even asked me for permission before he offered to take her with his group the next day to ski, and by then I knew what kind of boy he was and what kind of parents had raised him. I nodded without hesitation, and Meghan was overjoyed to have a group of kids her own age to spend the day before Thanksgiving.
“Please say you’ll join us for the holiday,” Barbara said as she leaned toward me. “We’ll have enough turkey and stuffing to feed an army.”
Dylan nodded and answered for us. “We’d love to, Barbara. Thank you.”
All in all, it was shaping up to be a beautiful holiday.
I said as much after we retired that night. Meghan had made an early night of it so that she could meet her group at daybreak, so Dylan and I had finally made our way to the solitude of our private bedroom, shutting the world behind us at last.
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” he said as he pulled me close. His mouth landed on mine and all else was forgotten except the bubbly excitement I always found in his embrace. He was like a tall glass of living, breathing champagne, and I was hopelessly inebriated.
He pressed me up against the wall as he devoured my mouth. I wound my arms around his neck and clutched him tight, one of my legs curving around his. He was breathless when the kiss broke. “I feel like we’ve been waiting for this moment forever,” he murmured as his eyes, clouded with passion, bore into mine.
“We have,” I whispered back.
“Why is that, you think?”
I shrugged. I could feel every line of his body against mine, something I had dreamed about for decades. His arms were solid and warm and real. This wasn’t some fanciful dream with Rob Lowe. This was a man I had loved as long as I could remember. “Because I’m stupid?”
He chuckled. “Fortunately for you, I have a thing for dumb chicks.”
I grinned. “No, you don’t.”
“See? You’re not so stupid after all.” His eyes fell to my mouth. “God, Roni. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you.”
It was out of my mouth before I could stop it. “Even Amber?”
His brow furrowed. “Who?”
“Amber. Remember? Tenth grade?”
He laughed. “Tell me you haven’t been holding onto that for twenty years.”
I shrugged. “She was pretty and smart and kind…”
“So were you,” he said.
I chortled. “Please.”
He caressed my face with his hand. “That’s your problem, Ms. Lawless. You’ve never seen what I’ve seen. I see the silky hair, black as night. Those hazel eyes that always turn greener if you’re mad, or sad or just before we kiss.” He punctuated his sentence with a soft peck on my lips as his hand slipped down my neck to my shoulder. “And that body, so soft, so supple, such a woman before I even knew what a woman could be. Thoughts of you kept me up every night when I was fifteen. I learned to masturbate because of you,” he added with a lascivious grin. “Every night, just a room away, hoping you couldn’t hear, but praying maybe you did and you’d know it was because of you.” Fire coursed in my veins as he bent to kiss the line of my neck near my ear. “I wanted to lose myself in you.”
My eyes met his. “Then how come none of the girls you dated look like me?”
His eyes swept my face. “Because there is no one like you, Roni. I’ve searched the world over and I know that better than anyone.” His mouth descended toward mine and I opened my mouth to deepen the kiss as it landed. He groaned in my mouth. “Tell me you want me, Roni,” he pleaded in a whisper.
“I want you,” I breathed against his lips. “I’ve always wanted you.”
He lifted me up in his arms and carried me toward the bed, where we landed so soft it was as if we disappeared in a cloud. Impatiently he slipped his hand up under my shirt to caress the sensitive skin of my bare stomach, inching ever closer to my breast. I whimpered as I arched my back towards him.
“Touch me,” I begged softly.
He obeyed my desperate command, peeling my shirt away, revealing the satiny, sexy underwear underneath. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered as his mouth trailed from mine toward the hardened peak of my breast.
From the undeniable response of his body, I believed him.
He unhooked the bra in front until the fabric fell away. His mouth was around my nipple before the cool air could hit it and I gasped as his tongue circled it slowly and tortuously. I grabbed a handful of his thick, dark hair and pressed him into me. He switched to the other breast and I writhed underneath him. His fingers and hands and lips seemed to be everywhere at once. I was incapable of speaking as he dipped lower, trailing his tongue down my abdomen as he unfastened my jeans. I lifted my hips up as he pulled the jeans and underwear down in one smooth tug, revealing me to him at last. I gasped as his head disappeared between my thighs, kissing his way to the very core of me.
My legs opened wider as he held me open for his inquisitive tongue, dancing around my engorged clit until I was biting back a scream with my fist. Color and light exploded in my brain as his mouth covered my clit and he sucked hard. I convulsed against him as I came harder than I had ever come in my life.
His fingers penetrated me, thoroughly investigating my quivering pussy as he continued to manipulate my clit with his mouth. His tongue followed his fingers and I was bucking against his face. “God, Dylan,” I gasped as I tried not to scream and wake my daughter in the next room. “Please!”
He kneeled in between my legs as he slowly took off his shirt, revealing that amazing body as his eyes locked with mine. “Touch yourself,” he commanded softly.
I obeyed by cupping my breast with one hand, tweaking the hard nipple as he unzipped his jeans and slipped a hand inside to grab his prominent erection. He stroked himself slowly as he watched me. I groaned as I watched the head of his cock emerge from the top of his jeans. Want him? I thought I might die without him. I lifted up, reaching for a kiss, tasting myself on his lips and that forceful, driving tongue that pierced my lips.
My fingers fumbled to pull away the final barrier of clothes between us, his jeans and underwear, pulling him back down onto the bed on top of me until he was fitted nicely between my legs. We kissed so hard I could barely remember to breathe. I clasped fistfuls of his hair in my hands as I wrapped my legs around his hips.
This time I reached for the bedside table and fumbled for a condom. He watched me tear that sucker off with my teeth before I slid it onto him, luxuriating in the feeling of how hard he was in my hand. I squeezed and brushed and stroked until his eyes fluttered closed and he shuddered hard.
I felt him kick away the jeans at last as he positioned himself to enter me, which he did with a purposeful thrust that buried him deep inside. We both gasped at how it felt to be one at last, after all these months, all these years… all this time. He trembled against me.
“It could never be this wa
y with anyone else,” he murmured, his eyes dark. “Tell me you know that.”
I nodded.
“My Roni,” he stated as he thrust hard, making me gasp. “I don’t care who you married. I don’t care who you’ve fucked. You’ve always been mine since that very first kiss.”
I nodded again. It was the truth. He branded my heart from the time I was nine. Everyone that followed had been a pale substitute. There would never be anyone else for me but Dylan. I clutched him inside of me until he moaned into the nape of my neck. He ground himself inside of me, making me crazy as he made love to me like I had always dreamed. I carved my nails into his back as he rode me and he watched my face as I responded to each thrust. He sped up to bring me right to the brink, but would shake his head with a mischievous smile as he slowed down again. He thread our hands together as he pushed my arms above my head. He was making me pay for our slow burn and it was making me crazy. “Please, Dylan,” I begged.
“You want to come?” he asked softly, his eyes piercing mine. I nodded. He thrust harder. “Yeah?” I nodded again and he sped up. “Really?”
“Dylan,” I whimpered and he shuddered.
He latched onto one of my breasts as he fucked me hard, and he didn’t stop until I toppled over the edge. He rode me masterfully through another massive orgasm, and finally he allowed himself to come. He collapsed on top of me, breathing hard. He cupped my head, grabbing a handful of my hair and tugging it as he stared into my eyes. “Never doubt how much I want you again,” he instructed.
I could only nod as I lost myself in his powerful gaze.
He wasn’t a boy anymore.
He was a man.
And in that moment if nothing else, he was mine.
I wrapped myself around him like a cocoon and held him close till morning.
Meghan was gone with her new friends by daybreak, which allowed Dylan and me a lazy morning. We barely bothered with clothes as we tinkered around in the kitchen making a breakfast that we eventually ate off of each other in an erotic little game involving fruit and cream. He ended up making love to me as he propped me up on the cabinet, and this time I withheld no screams as he took possession of me again.
The Leftover Club Page 23
