26. Twenty-Six
Twenty-Six
DYLAN
F or a while, my mind wasn’t thinking the filthiest things about him.
We made our way around the room, cross checking measurements together and discussing the project. He was curious around my skillset as an interior designer. He challenged my thinking on some choices, yet respected them when I justified certain design decisions.
I wondered what it might be like if this was my future. Brax was so many things that Zack wasn’t. He was supportive, understanding and legitimately interested in my life and my career.
Zack couldn’t care less about what I did for living, or what my passions were. Zack didn’t even know I was a talented artist. He'd never even seen me draw.
I was like a trophy to Zack. Someone who looked good on his arm, that he could parade around to his douchebag finance friends. I felt like an idiot for even falling into a relationship with someone so arrogant.
When I thought back to pivotal moments in our relationship, there was no doubt he was controlling and possessive. Qualities that he carefully hid at first.
It irked him that I worked in a male dominated industry, made worse due to the one and only time he came to a function with me.
He’d met Steven, who was his usual slimy self. Zack accused me of flirting with him, which couldn’t have been further from the truth. We ended up having a huge fight, with Zack admitting that he didn’t really want me to work. At all.
That alone was a giant red flag. But instead of ending it, like I should have, I swept it under the rug.
I hated that I dumbed myself down for him.
Reflecting on it while I took reference photos, I realized how beaten into submission I had become.
I looked over at Brax, who was squatting down measuring the side of a wall.
He sensed my thoughts were in a dark place. “You alright?”
Placing the camera down, I leaned against the table. “I’m a bit fucked up.”
Brax stood and tossed the measuring tape on the floor. The floorboards creaked as he approached me.
“I don’t think your fucked up.”
“You know what I mean.”
Brax stroked the sides of my face. “What’s happening in that pretty mind of yours?”
“It’s a mess.”
“I like your messy mind,” he said, playfully rubbing my head. He stopped when he realized I wasn't smiling. “You want to talk about it?”
I gave him a closed lipped smile. I wanted to speak with him, but I needed to figure out my own feelings before I could handle his.
Turning back around to the table, I placed the paper, measuring tape, pencils and camera back inside my handbag.
Brax’s tattooed arms appeared on either side of me, his hands palmed on the table. He nuzzled his head into the nape of my neck. I tilted my head to the side, enjoying the comfort his touch brought.
“Tell me something real,” he whispered against my neck, his hot breath sending a shiver down my spine. "What's going on?"
“I hate knowing that I have to let you go again."
His right hand lightly stroked my right arm. “It won't be for long.”
I turned to face him. Our hips were almost touching, our faces mere inches from each other. “I feel really fucking bad.”
It was true. The guilt was coming for me—there was no escaping the rising tide of shame. I felt split in two. One half of me was ashamed at myself; while the other felt alive and blissfully happy.
It was a confusing blend of emotion that I didn't know how to process.
“I know this is chaotic," he said quietly. "But isn’t that what we've always been?"
A cyclone whipped through my veins as he brushed his lips with mine. “Haven’t we always not given a fuck about anything or anyone, except each other?”
He had a way with words. He could talk me off a ledge. Or kiss me and fuck me off one.
He rolled his shoulders back and tilted my chin in his hand. "Everything will be okay. It won't feel this way forever."
Leaning forward, he placed a light kiss just next to my lips.
I caught fucking fire, my body was burning alive from the inside out. I wanted him so bad, I was so drunk on lust.
I dived on his mouth while his hands wrapped around my waist. Throwing my arms around his neck, I pulled him closer, returning his hunger in my kiss. The desperation, the urge to be completely and utterly his was almost too much.
He pushed roughly into me, and I could feel his arousal hard against me. Instinctively, I spread my legs a little wider, gyrating into him.
He broke away from our kiss, and with our foreheads touching, he looked down at my body.
I tilted his chin towards me and looked him dead in the eyes.
Placing one of my hands onto his, I slowly guided his tattooed hand down between my legs, then very, very slowly up my skirt.
I wanted him to feel how much I wanted him.
With his forehead against mine, he angled his eyes down towards his hand, which was lightly rubbing me over my underwear. I rocked my pelvis into his hand, letting him know how much I liked it, needed it, would fucking beg for it.
I unbuttoned my blouse.
Sunshine streamed in through the high windows, lighting up where we were positioned against the table, the dust particles dancing in the glow of golden sunlight.
I peeled off my blouse and removed my lacy white bra.
Brax inhaled sharply at the sight of my tits.
My body was trembling with an insatiable appetite to fuck him there and then.
“Do you want to fuck me?”
He answered me by kissing me deeply, before dropping his mouth onto my tits, kissing them, sucking and flicking his tongue all over my hardened nipples.
He couldn’t get enough.
He slipped a finger on the inside of my underwear, and began lightly stroking my pussy.
“You’re so wet,” he uttered, as I arched my back, begging him to slide a finger, or two, inside of me. “Look at me, Dylan.”
He slid my thong halfway down my legs, before yanking it off, getting it caught around one of my high heels. It dangled there as he teased me with his fingers, rubbing me, spreading my arousal all over my pussy. I grinded my hips, trying to force him to give me what I was desperately craving.
I shifted my ass up onto the table. He dipped a finger in me, in and out slowly. My legs shook at his touch.
Then, a second finger. His rhythm increased.
In and out, slowly and steady, with firm force. My body craved the pressure his fingers provided me.
I spread my legs wider as if to say, yes, more .
He kissed me as his fingers worked me into a frenzy. I felt my core burning, burning, burning, that beautiful feeling of climax building.
I pulled away from our kiss.
“Get on your knees.” I demanded.
He did what I asked and dropped to his knees before me.
The sight of my six foot three tattooed viking kneeling between my legs had me quivering. He was a servant, with me his queen.
He lowered his mouth to me, joining his fingers in making my pussy feel like the most sacred place on earth.
He licked me with long, firm strokes, while he finger fucked me at the same time. I whimpered in response.
Brax knew exactly what to do and where to focus. Most men find the wrong place, or no place at all, but not Brax. He knew my body so well. His cheeks grazed my thighs as he feasted on me.
I ran my hands through his hair, then gripped his head tightly, pushing it into me. I was teetering on the edge of an orgasm, my body almost thrashing underneath his touch.
My breath shortened as I cried out, completely and utterly submitting, melting onto his face as I rode the powerful wave of climax.
Higher, higher, higher I went until I was falling, falling, falling through a thousand different worlds as I came.
Removing his mouth and fingers from between my legs, I could see my slickness all over his lips. He sucked on his fingers, licking them clean.
I had a feeling we were just getting started.
“Do you want me to fuck you?”
I did. I wanted to be fucked into tomorrow.
But I could barely breathe or form a thought, let alone speak.
“I said,” he repeated, his voice low and rough. He grabbed both my legs, and pulled me towards him. The table rumbled underneath the force. “Do you want me to fuck you?”
I answered him by unfastening the button on his shorts, his hard cock clearly outlined beneath the fabric. I was ready to take all of him right there and then in the construction zone. Fuck health and safety.
“Say it, or I’m not going to be gentle. I’ll be hard, rough and rain down hell on your pussy,” he said darkly.
I wanted an unleashed Brax, not holding back. “Promise?” I whimpered.
Just as he pushed his cock inside me, we heard the double doors downstairs open.
Our eyes snapped to each other. Frozen, we looked at each other for a few moments.
"No one else is supposed to be here." I whispered.
The panic set in as we realized whoever it was, was walking towards the stairs that lead up to the mezzanine.
Towards us.
Brax swore under his breath, sliding out of me. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
We moved at the speed of light to re-dress me, pulling up my thong, re-clasping my bra and buttoning up my blouse.
The footsteps got closer and closer as whoever it was walked up the stairs.
I thought maybe it was Greg coming back to check on me. We were so screwed if that was the case.
Brax’s erection was bulging against his pants, so I chucked him my handbag so he could cover himself.
Smoothing my hair back, the door opened.
Steven walked in.
The fuck?!
“Imagine finding you two here.”
“Steven, hi,” I was trying to sound casual, but I was panicked. Less than two minutes prior, I was having an orgasm. Now I was freaking the fuck out. “What are you doing here?”
“I knew you were due on site this morning, and I thought you might need a hand with the measurements,” Steven said, looking around the room. He nodded towards Brax. “But I see you’ve already got one.”
If only he knew how much of a hand I’d truly gotten.
“I’m good,” I replied quickly. “We’re finished actually.”
The room went silent, but I noticed an aggressive tension bubbling away between Brax and Steven. My eyes darted between the two of them. They were looking at each other with pure hatred.
Had I missed something? Brax said Steven threatened my job, but this felt volatile. Had something else happened that I didn’t know?
“Okay, well,” I grabbed my remaining things, signaling that I was done and ready to get the hell out of there. “I’m out. Brax?”
“Yeah, we’re done.”
“ Are you done though?” Steven snapped at Brax.
The air felt thick and dangerous.
Brax cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. If looks could kill, Steven would be six feet under. I'd seen Brax lose control and fuck guys up when we were younger. He didn't take to threats lightly.
“Steven, what the hell?” I hissed at him. “What’s with the macho bullshit?”
He continued to hold Brax’s gaze for a moment, before turning his beady eyes to me. “Nothing. Dylan, you should come with me. We’re due at conference soon.”
Was this prick serious? After he acted a fool in the hotel foyer to this weird display of… whatever the fuck this was, he now expected me to ride with him?
There was no way.
I was leaving with Brax.
“You go Dyl," Brax said. "I’ve got to go see Greg anyway.”
Okay, or not.
I was manically trying to work out what Steven knew, if anything, when my stomach dropped as I remembered I'd caught Steven watching us in the pool.
He knows about us.
Even though he was several floors up, there was no denying that Brax and I were all over each other.
Maybe it was Steven who said something to Greg? That would explain Greg's sudden concern.
I needed to play it cool. I had to try to act normal.
Like I wasn't someone having an affair.
“Okay," I tossed Brax the keys from my handbag. "Can you give these to Greg, please?”
“Sure,” Brax shoved the keys in his pocket. “I’ll get those additional measurements over to you later this afternoon.”
“Sounds great,” I said, still flushed from my climax. “Let’s go then, Steven.”
I led the way downstairs, with Steven hot on my heels, and Brax choosing not to follow.