by Parker Swift
Our bodies were flush, and his arm was firmly wrapped around my waist. His erection was pressed against my leg, and my brain was starting to go fuzzy the way it seemed to when we were this close. “I don’t want anything between us.” He reached down and gently tugged at my pubic hair. “Same goes for this. Let’s rid you of this today, shall we? I want skin on skin.”
I gave him an “oh really?” look.
“I warned you I was bossy,” he said. Of course I could protest, but the truth was I didn’t want to. He grabbed my ass and pulled me up and close to him, letting me feel his erection digging into me. “Plus, you’ll love it. Trust me.”
“I do,” I said as I returned his smile, and as I said it I realized just how true it was.
The look on his face was heating me from the inside out. He lifted me by my ribcage, and I instinctively wrapped my legs around him. We stepped into the shower, and he practically slammed me against the tile wall, shifting so he could position himself at my entrance. He slid right into place, my slick folds hugging him. Safely seated inside me, he moved us so the shower door was at my back, and the steaming stream of water poured at his back, sliding in rivulets around him and into the space between us.
“Hands up,” he said. “Grab the top of the shower door.” I complied immediately and was half supported by him holding me and half by the shower stall itself. “That’s right, baby. Hold on tight. Don’t let go.”
He began driving his hips ruthlessly up into me, lifting me, sliding himself in and out, deeper with each thrust. He buried his head between my breasts and took one nipple between his teeth, relentlessly assaulting the tender peak and then shifting to the other one. No one before him had ever dared treat my breasts with anything but gentle reverence, and this was an awakening. When he twisted one particularly hard the sensation flew straight to my clit, like a jolt of electricity, fast-tracking my orgasm. I threw my head back against the glass door, unable to contain the riot building inside me. What had been a slow build was quickly becoming a tidal wave. I moved one of my hands, hoping to grab his shoulder and gain some control over his onslaught, but he briskly grabbed my wrist, firmly replacing it above my head. “Not unless I say so.” His voice was breathy, authoritative, and sexy as hell.
He continued his punishing assault, thrusting into me with increasing fierceness. He had me on the brink, my body about to unravel around him. “I’m about to come, Lydia. Are you close?”
“God yes, Dylan.” I breathed out, gasping as he propelled me up and down his perfect dick.
“Come now, baby. Now,” he commanded, and within seconds, I detonated, completely coming apart around him. He came with me, his balls firmly pressed against my swollen, sensitive flesh. He let loose a guttural moan, his breathing thick and warm against my chest. We stayed that way for a long moment, catching ourselves, coming down from our orgasms. He pulled out of me and let me down to standing. He rid himself of the condom and gently turned me into him, holding me, my cheek against his chest.
He proceeded to soap me gently, cradling my hypersensitive breasts in his sudsy palms, planting kisses at my collarbone. He raised my hands and washed under my arms. He knelt before me, and glided soapy hands up my legs, around my butt, and between my thighs with care. He washed my hair and massaged me as he went. He was exquisitely gentle. I’d gone from being assaulted with rough aggressive sex to receiving his tender caresses in a matter of minutes, and each was perfect and sensual in its own way. I’d never felt so taken care of, so cherished.
“Your turn,” I said, looking at him, and he handed me the body wash. I created a lather between my palms and decided to have fun with this. I stepped towards him so our bodies crushed against each other and began massaging his back, sliding my soapy hands from his shoulders down around his perfect ass, cupping it, making long smooth strokes with my hands and sliding them back up his sides. I made the same loop, creating a rhythm and kissing his chest while doing so. Finally I let my hands move to his front and continued my attack. I purposely and lovingly washed every part of his body except the one he was waiting for, the one I was waiting for, and in the meantime I saw him grow with anticipation.
“Lydia?” he scolded. “I know what you’re doing.”
“I know,” I teased, looking up at him.
I finally gripped him firmly in both hands and stroked him at a steady beat. I let one hand slide down and cup his balls, massaging them gently. He reached out each arm and braced himself against the stall walls, and I increased my pace as I felt him stiffen even further. “Good god, baby, I’m going to come. You’re killing me. Christ, Lydia!” He tilted his hips, rocking his cock into my hands, fucking them. It was clear he was close, his sense of urgency palpable. I stepped in close, using one hand to grab his ass firmly, and I tightened my grip just as his cum spilled over my hand. His head fell forward, our foreheads meeting, and he draped his arms over my shoulders. “If we don’t get out of this shower, we’ll never leave the house.” I smiled, hearing his implicit compliment.
“That’s ok. I think I changed my mind about wanting to go anywhere. Can’t we just stay here in this shower all day?”
“No. I love that you want to, but no.” He kissed the top of my head, and turned off the water.
Chapter 19
He told me to head down to the Market on my own and that he’d find me. Presumably it wouldn’t do for us to be walking hand in hand, not that I even knew if he would be into that if we weren’t in stealth mode. Lloyd had brought him clean clothes, and we’d eyed each other appreciatively while we dressed. He had caught me grabbing panties from my drawer, and it earned me another slap on my naked ass, one which he’d had the indecency to ask me to bend over the bed to receive. The disciplinarian side of him was enticing, seductive, but I also felt him taking my temperature, gauging how much I liked it. The answer: way more than I probably should.
But so soon after such an intimate morning, I was outside in the world and would have to pretend not to know him. Didn’t I deserve more than this? This wasn’t what I wanted, but staying away was beginning to feel impossible—I was straight-up addicted.
After a few blocks, I stopped looking over my shoulder to see if Dylan was following. I wrapped my light jacket around me to protect me from the cool morning air—fall was definitely on its way—and I began to get absorbed in the Market. Many of the stalls and shops appeared to sell junk—cheap tourist trinkets or knock-off handbags and paintings. But there were several that perfectly represented what I’d imagined and hoped to find at a London street market.
One stall sold Scottish cashmere, and I fingered the scarves and blankets carefully, admiring the brilliantly colored plaids. I asked the vendor about the price of one particularly beautiful cream-and-blue scarf I was touching and he replied that it was four hundred pounds. I dropped it immediately. That was more than my new dress had cost, and certainly more than I’d ever be able to spend on a scarf.
Another stand sold stylish umbrellas with handcrafted wooden handles in the shapes of animals—a fox, a rabbit, a duck. A narrow storefront sold finely crafted letterpress stationary and cards—thick white cardstock with hints of antique-y fonts and historical inks. The market was quickly beginning to crowd with tourists and locals alike, everyone carrying their morning coffee, and no one in a rush.
I decided to duck into one of the larger indoor antique malls bordering the street market, when someone behind me held the door for me. I turned half=way and smiled as Dylan planted his palm at my lower back, urging me in. He walked past me, gripping my hand as he passed, and he quickly dragged me into a quiet shop selling large old paintings. I stood in front of him, barely an inch between my back and his front, admiring an English country landscape in a thick ornate gold frame. Suddenly I felt soft fabric being draped over my shoulders and around my neck. Looking down I saw the edges of the Scottish scarf I’d been admiring moments before.
“What? Dylan, I—” I whispered, not believing the extravagant gift being w
rapped around me. “Were you watching me?” His arms settled behind me, not touching me, but so close. “That’s kind of trench coat creepy, you know.”
I could feel him rolling his eyes. “Whatever happened to attentiveness being a good thing? The other guys you dated must have been right idiots.”
“You’re not wrong, but it’s still a little creepy.”
“Stop. You were looking at this so dreamily. Let me,” he whispered in my ear, but he was sure to keep some distance between us. Anyone who saw us might think we were standing awfully close, but nothing more.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, and he slipped his hand underneath the side of my jacket and brushed my midriff with his fingers. His touch ignited me.
“Follow me,” he ordered, withdrawing his hand.
I turned around and saw his back navigating through the indoor market, and I followed him from a short distance through the web of tiny shops. We dodged tourists and slow-moving window shoppers, and I finally followed him into a tiny elegant estate jeweler’s. The shop was completely empty and dark, lit only by a simple chandelier hanging in the center of the room and the light coming in from the shop’s front window. Only a short old man with a wool vest and low bifocals manned the counter, and he was currently hunched over some trinket with an eyeglass and a bright desk lamp. He barely raised his head when we first entered, but begrudgingly began to shadow Dylan as he eyed the contents of the long cases bordering the shop. I somehow doubted that this guy read Hello! magazine or had a clue that anyone was interested in Dylan’s love life.
I stepped over to the window, pretending to examine the items on display, dragging my fingertips along the edge of the shelf. Pretending quickly turned to genuine interest when I realized how beautiful the pieces were. Delicate filigreed necklaces and long chandelier earrings harkened back to a bygone era of velvet gowns and top hats. There were tiaras and more unusual pieces like brooches, hair combs, and hatpins, all of which summoned the intrigue and elegance of horse-drawn carriages and filled-up dance cards. While I was lost in my reverie, Dylan had started a conversation with the shopkeeper. He was pretending to be in the market for a gift. I began to pay attention, conscious that I was supposed to be a stranger. There was a charge between us that it made it nearly impossible for me to keep my distance. I wanted nothing more than to be in his grasp, tucked into his side.
“For someone special, sir?” the shopkeeper asked, looking over the edge of his spectacles, assessing Dylan and trying to ascertain exactly what type of customer he was dealing with.
He nodded. “I’d like something unusual, one of a kind,” Dylan replied with confidence. He’d know what he wanted when he saw it.
“Yes, sir. And did you have a price in mind, a limit?” the shopkeeper asked.
“No,” said Dylan matter-of-factly.
“Ahh, well. I have a few items that might work. One moment.” The shopkeeper began retrieving jewelry and placing the items in a velvet-lined box, creating a collection. When he caught my gaze, he asked, “Can I help you, miss?”
“No, no. I’m just looking. Thank you,” I replied, moving over to the case. I stood just a couple of feet down from Dylan, splitting my attention between his magnetic pull and the gorgeous antiques in front of me.
I heard Dylan nix several things, and then point to something in the case in front of him. “I’d like to see those.”
“Of course, sir,” said the shopkeeper, sounding pleased. I tried to see what they were looking at, and they seemed to be a pair of dangly earrings. I could see them catching the light as the shopkeeper held them up. “Do you know if she wears long earrings, sir? They can overwhelm some, and sapphires don’t complement everyone, I’m afraid.”
“I see.” Dylan held the earrings in his hand. He glanced at me. “Perhaps she could help.” He turned, giving me his full attention, and I could feel my face heat up.
He was roping me into his scene, and I wasn’t at all sure I’d be able to keep up the act, playing this game for the shopkeeper’s benefit. Actually, the way I was beginning to feel that familiar pulsing tingle on my skin, I suppose it was for my benefit too.
Dylan looked right at me expectantly and asked, “Would you mind?”
Another couple calmly walked into the shop and began to browse. I coughed out of nervousness, clearing my throat. “Not at all. How can I help?” I approached Dylan, placing one hand on the counter to steady what were becoming shaky legs. The other couple was paying attention now too, and I heard the man make an admiring comment about the jewelry in a haughty tone. I couldn’t take my eyes off of Dylan’s and still hadn’t even looked at what he was holding. I was transfixed, paralyzed by Dylan’s gaze.
“I’m thinking about buying these as a gift, you see, but they’re a surprise,” Dylan continued, and I nodded. “She’s about your size—you look similar. I was wondering if you’d try them on for me. If it wouldn’t be a bother.”
The way the sun was coming in through the windows behind me and lighting him, I would have stripped naked right there and then and done whatever he asked. “Happily,” I replied, summoning my inner actress. I approached him and unwrapped the scarf from my neck, placing it on the case. I tucked my hair behind my ears and removed my tiny silver studs, placing them on the counter. I expected him to hand me the earrings, but in a gesture I’m sure revealed us, he reached up and slipped the earrings into my ears. His touch ignited me, striking me like a match. His fingers grazing my cheek and neck, his face so close to my own. How did he expect me to refrain from kissing him? But he knew exactly what he was doing—this whole incognito thing was intensifying everything, bringing the chemistry between us to a boil. Fighting kissing him was like fighting an oncoming tsunami.
When he was done, he stepped back, leaned on the counter, and took me in. But in a moment his “I know exactly what I’m doing to you” smirk fell away. He was captivated, almost stunned. Was something wrong? I held my hair back and turned to look in the mirror the shopkeeper had brought out. The earrings were astonishingly beautiful. They were far more intricate than I had first appreciated. Each one was an elegant web of diamonds surrounding a cluster of large sapphires, creating an Art Nouveau floral feeling. They were teardrop shaped, outlined with a thin line of tiny diamonds, and had a sophisticated whimsy about them. I’d never pined for jewelry, but seeing these, I completely got the appeal.
It took me a moment to realize that everyone in the shop was staring at me. The woman who had walked in looked closer. “Those are absolutely exquisite! Darling, did you see these?” Then she looked at me. “They look incredible on you, dear.”
I blushed intensely, suddenly feeling like everyone in that room knew exactly what and who was flashing in my mind. “Do you think she would like them?” I asked. I looked right into Dylan’s eyes, both afraid of getting us caught and also not being able to pull away.
He remained lost, mesmerized. “Undoubtedly.” He was almost whispering, the word catching in his throat.
I was the center of attention and suddenly it scared the crap out of me. I felt overwhelmed and exposed. I needed to get out of there. I felt like we’d just had some kind of moment neither of us was ready for—the way he was looking at me felt all encompassing, and it was as though I could feel myself bleeding into him and disappearing. I carefully slid the earrings out of my ears and laid them in the velvet-lined box. I quickly wrapped my new beautiful scarf around my neck, grateful for its protection, and grabbed my own earrings from the counter.
“Excuse me.” I smiled at everyone, and ducked out of the shop.
Chapter 20
I was halfway home and had left the bustle of the market behind me when I saw the Jaguar pull up alongside. I hesitated, and then reached for the door. Before I was even fully in the car, Dylan had hauled me onto his lap. He reached behind me, grabbed the door closed, and brought his arms right back to my body. He looked at me, pleading and commanding.
“Don’t run off like that, Lydia. Please.”
The words were desperate and authoritative.
“Sorry. It just got, I don’t know, intense all of a sudden.” I pulled my face back, so I could see him.
“I know. You just looked so unbelievably beautiful. I…I wasn’t prepared for it. I can imagine you spread across my bed in a thousand different ways, and it excites the fuck out of me, but that? Seeing you there, looking so guileless, so gorgeous, so, I don’t know, just goddamn angelic—it fucking undid me.” He gulped. He looked almost panicked. “And then you were gone. Don’t do it again.”
“Ok. Ok. I won’t.” Had he been worried? “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Look, Lydia. I can’t give you more, ok?”
“Dylan, I’m not asking you to. What are you saying?”
“It’s not that I don’t want…This is just who I am, what my life is. But don’t run off. Not yet.”
“I’m not. I won’t.” I put my head back onto his chest, and the car was idling in front of my house as he held me to him fiercely. I didn’t really know what he was saying or what was eating him, but I did get the sense that he was sharing about as much as he could. What he’d said simultaneously made me feel safer in this thing with him and also aware that its ending was inevitable. If I wanted a relationship I was going to have to look elsewhere. Slowly he loosened his grip, and his hands settled around my waist. The moment had passed.
“I’m hungry,” I said, sighing into his chest.
He laughed. Finally, tension broken. “Let’s feed you, then.” Rain was starting to drum the windshield. “But first—” He held out a square flat velvet box, and opened it to reveal the earrings I’d just been wearing. They looked even more brilliant in the light outside the dark shop.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I exclaimed, sounding slightly horrified. I didn’t even want to know how much those cost.
“‘Thank you’ will suffice, Lydia.” His exasperated tone was muted by the sound of the rain pounding harder now on the roof of the car.
