Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
The next two weeks are filled with both joy and anticipation of what’s coming.
I spend every weekend with Dylan and even some evenings too, constantly checking behind my back to make sure no one sees me go inside and parking my car in town instead of at the lighthouse.
The odd time, I’ll drive by and pass a camera crew doing a news story on Killick Point.
It’s clearly not lost on anyone that the lighthouse is getting demolished on the thirty-second anniversary of Dylan’s death.
That makes for some good news, especially in a small town.
With my uniform stored safely in my car, I get up before the crack of dawn and leave him curled up on the couch with a cup of coffee, hell-bent on waking up with me and seeing me off on the mornings I can spend with him.
My days at the cafe are on autopilot. I fumble my way through my job, but because the creamer’s doing well, it’s felt like a saving grace, carrying me through.
And I feel so much lighter now that I’ve told Priya the truth.
She can still see that I’m in a bit of a faraway place in my mind, but she knows me enough not to press any more.
She’s been desperately trying to get an answer from the building department about what time the demolition is happening and has been lucky enough to finally speak to someone.
They told her they don’t have a set time yet but are aiming for after lunch.
It’s infuriating not knowing more, but I’m grateful for the sliver of information we’ve been given.
Dylan and I have talked through our plan more times than I can count.
On the twenty-third, we’re going to set up the barricades all along the edge.
We’ll wait outside all day, hoping that when the boys come, it will either be us or the barricades that force them to turn around and go back.
Then, when we’re sure it’s safe, Dylan is going to come with me through the red door.
Fingers crossed everything times out with the construction crew as well.
It’s simple. It’s straightforward. And I hope like hell it works.
It’s officially October 22.
I don’t know how we got to this day so fast, but I’m in my car, driving to Dylan for the last time. I said my goodbyes to Priya, pulling her in for an extra-long hug. “Tomorrow is either going to be the best or the worst day of my life,” I said as she squeezed me tight.
“It’ll be okay, Lucy. You’ve got this.” She blew me a kiss and then said she’d see me on the other side.
As I sneak into the lighthouse through the paint-stripped red door, the sound of soft jazz music makes its way down the stairs to greet me.
The beautiful and sultry tune calms me from the inside out.
I race up the stairs and find Dylan in the kitchen, holding a wooden spoon, stirring something aromatic in a pot.
“Why, hello, Chef,” I say with the widest grin I can muster as I drop my purse and walk over to him.
He places the spoon on the counter and brings my arms around his neck, followed by his own around my waist. We begin to gently sway in the kitchen, our feet never leaving the ground, locked on each other, the golden flecks in his emerald-green eyes dancing in the light.
He pulls away from me momentarily to walk over to the stove, flicking off the element before coming back.
Then we move together, the two of us, in his little kitchen, unable to remove our gaze from each other.
He brings his index finger and thumb up to my chin, tilting it up toward him.
“Whatever happens tomorrow, Lucy Brooks,” he starts, his voice just above a whisper, “please know that you are the love of my life. I am better for having met you.” He wipes the lone tear that decided to fall before he leans in and brings his mouth to my lips, enveloping me in the softest kiss.
I sigh into him as his tongue finds mine, dancing together as we stay locked.
We dance for a few songs, holding each other tightly, and I think it’s a moment we’ve both needed. A slow pace together. We keep kissing, and I pull his head down toward mine, getting him as close to me as I can.
Our kiss turns heady and feverish as he pushes me back, ravaging me with his tongue. I let out a whimper when he runs his hand up my side and wraps it around my neck, giving a light squeeze before nibbling my bottom lip. “I want you, Dylan,” I sigh.
The feel of his body pushing mine against the counter is pure heaven. Then two strong arms lift me up, and I’m being propped up onto the counter, my legs spread as Dylan fills the space between them. “There isn’t a word to describe how much I need you,” he responds between kisses.
He splays a hand on my chest, running it along the bare skin before touching the fabric of the button-up maroon sleeveless shirt I threw on with jeans after work today.
It’s a thicker material, keeping me warm in the brisk temperature, but I don’t miss the way Dylan’s eyes drag over the low cut at my chest and down to where the shirt ends, a hint of my stomach peeking out.
He works to undo the buttons, starting from the top and moving down.
The stiff fabric falls open as he makes quick work of each one, and when he undoes the last, I shrug the shirt off, letting it slide off the counter and down onto the floor below us.
He lets out a loud growl as he takes in the sight of me, sitting in front of him in a white cotton bra with stitched sunflowers.
His fingers trace the raised needlework over my perked nipple, and I bite my lip in anticipation, looking up at him with so much want.
He brings his mouth down over my bra and sucks through the fabric, his long hair falling loose around his face.
“Mmm, that feels good,” I moan as I arch my back from the feel of his tongue teasing me.
He palms my other breast before pulling the straps off my shoulders and undoing the clasp at the back.
With my breasts out on display, he brings his mouth back down over my nipple, biting it with his teeth and sending a shock of ecstasy through my body from the direct contact.
My underwear is damp at this point, and when he helps me shimmy out of my jeans to see my matching thong, he spreads my legs even wider, running a finger along the wet cotton, a guttural sound escaping from his throat.
“You’re so wet, Luce,” he says as he leans in, kissing me while continuing to rub his finger along the outer fabric of my underwear.
I’m aching for him, a desire so strong I can barely contain it.
All I want is for him to move past the barrier between us and douse the flame that keeps getting stronger and stronger.
I want to feel him inside me. He knows it, and the wicked grin he sends my way when he pulls away for a moment is pure torment.
“How badly do you want me to touch you, Luce?” he asks, his mouth pulling to one side while he patiently waits for my response.
“Very bad,” I whisper, spreading my legs even more for him and running my fingers along the waistline of my underwear, hoping he’ll take them off.
“Say please,” he grunts, tracing along the inside of my thighs, causing goosebumps to erupt everywhere in its wake.
“Please, Dylan. Touch me,” I moan, and he finally moves my underwear to the side and pushes a finger deep inside me, curling it up at the knuckle as he does.
I cry out from the feeling of it while he moves to my earlobe, nibbling it with his teeth before kissing down my neck and landing on my breast, taking it in his mouth, sucking and flicking my nipple with his tongue.
“That’s right, babe. Take my finger.” His voice is gravel as he drives in and out, causing my breath to hitch as I lean into him for support.
He adds a second finger and presses his palm into my clit, the pressure so good I involuntarily rock my hips into it, desperately clawing toward the release I know is imminent.
When he adds a third finger and curls them all inside me, my whole body quivers as my orgasm courses through me. “I’m coming,” I cry, and he drives into me even more, mouth back on my nipple, coaxing me through it.
“That’s it, come all over my fingers, Luce. I’ve got you.”
I’m writhing as my legs try to close, but his solid stance holds them open.
The ecstasy fades, and my breathing slows when he finally removes his fingers, tracing them up my stomach and chest, leaving a glistening trail of my pleasure.
When he makes it up to my mouth, I part my lips for him, sucking everything off with a moan.
Bending slightly at the knees, he swipes his tongue up the trail he made until he gets back to my open mouth, kissing me with a groan.
“Fuck, your pussy is so sweet,” he says as he lifts his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor beside where mine lies.
I move my hands to the top of his jeans, flicking the top button open and zipping down the fly, a smile growing as I spot the bulge behind his black boxers.
Pushing his pants down, I grab him over his underwear, seizing his hard length and stroking up and down.
He growls, gripping the edge of the counter on either side of me, and closes his eyes. “That feels good.”
“Good,” I reply as I push his boxers down, licking my lips as his throbbing cock reveals itself, precum already coming out from the head.
I wrap my hand around him, stroking up and down, savouring each grunt and groan that escapes his mouth.
“You like my hand on your cock, don’t you,” I tease as I rub the slit at the top before coming back down to the base of his shaft, squeezing as I go.
“Fuck. Yes, I do.” His voice is a whisper as he rubs his thumb over my nipple, my body squirming on the counter from his light, teasing touches.
“I like it in your pussy more,” he says as he steps out of his jeans and boxers and pulls me right to the edge of the counter, spreading my legs as far back as they’ll go.
Licking his hand, he rubs it over my entrance, pushing two fingers in, working me back up before he pulls them out, leaving me empty for just a moment.
Then he slowly drives his cock into me, inch by inch, watching as he sinks deeper and deeper into my pussy.
“That’s it, love, take it all. Your tight pussy needs to stretch to take my cock. ”
Once he sinks in fully, I arch my back even more and drive my hips up, getting him in as deep as I can, pushing right into my wall.
“Oh,” I cry out as he places one hand on the cupboard above me and one on my ass, cupping it so I can’t move backward.
He drives into me, sliding in and out, and the feeling is so good I could black out.
Having my legs open this wide, unable to close them, coupled with him so deep inside me, is enough for my orgasm to build in my lower belly.
“Touch me, Dylan, please,” I beg. When his thumb finds my clit and draws small circles, that’s enough for me to fully let go.
My release pours through me as I scream his name, my whole body twitching but unable to move.
He keeps his thumb on my clit and drives into me once more before he yells and starts to fill me up.
His lower body jerks as he keeps pouring into me.
Finally, both of our bodies still, and he leans closer, wrapping his arms around me.
“I love you, Luce.”
“I love you too, Dylan.”
He steps back before picking me up and wrapping me in his arms. Walking me upstairs, he turns on the shower, letting the hot water fill the small room with steam.
We hop in together and wash each other clean, the scent of his soap all over my body.
A scent I could never go without again. I’ve already stocked my apartment with Irish Spring, always wanting to smell like him.
After our shower, we head downstairs and eat the delicious tomato and prawn curry Dylan made for us. He reheats it on the stove, while I sit on the counter in just a T-shirt, legs crossed, watching him stir the dish on the stove.
We sit on the couch, curled up, and eat our dinner, going over our plan once more, making sure everything is ready for tomorrow.
Afterward, we climb into bed, tangled up in each other, neither of us willing to move apart.
Something about this being our last night has us both locked to each other; no amount of space tonight is okay.
He kisses my forehead and runs his fingers along my back, drumming to a tune I don’t recognize, and finally, our breathing calms, and we fall asleep. Together. In the lighthouse.
For the last time.