Chapter Twenty-One

The party went on until late. The players didn't seem to care that they had practice the next morning. The crates of beer took a beating, and just before midnight a load of pizzas were delivered.

I flopped into bed alone. My head was spinning from fizzy wine and gossip from the wives and girlfriends I'd met. They were all so friendly, fun, and down to earth. They were all beautiful, too, independent, lively, and I enjoyed feeling part of the gang even though there had been questions about which brother I was with and why did Dylan keep looking at me as if he was stripping my clothes off with his eyes.

Much to my relief, no one brought up the photograph of Eduardo and I. So I hoped that meant it hadn't been as widely circulated as Steven had made me believe.

I sat, winced when my head complained, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. It was then I realized why Dylan had kept setting his drilling concentration on me. It was Saturday, I'd promised to spend the night with him, and he'd promised to teach me things I didn't even know existed.

What the hell?

Damn it, right now I felt a wreck. I wasn't up for much more than a shower then tea and toast, let alone kinky time.

I padded downstairs in my shorty pajamas. The house was empty of people but not empty of mess. Theo's Jeep keys had gone from the hook, so I reckoned he and Ben had managed to get up and out for practice despite their partying.

The clock showed eleven-thirty. How long had they been gone?

The tea kettle was cold, so I guessed a while.

As the water boiled and my bread toasted, I dropped a few pizza crusts in the bin. There was a green scarf on the sofa I recognized as Carly's, Brick's wife; she must have forgotten it. But that was okay, I'd take it next time I went to watch practice or a game.

I stilled. Wow, I really was getting my feet under the table here. Next time I went to a practice or game. But far from feeling wrong or weird it felt nice. I'd felt so close to Theo yesterday, and I'd shared Ben's relief that his results were all normal. He'd held me tight, in the corner of the room, and thanked me for going to the clinic with his brother. Told me I was good for him.

The flowers Eduardo had bought me were in need of water, so I filled a jug to top them up. Eduardo was so thoughtful and generous, preempting what I might need, and he was damn sexy with it. I still wanted him as much as I'd wanted him when we'd shared the kiss outside Ciao! Would I get the chance to spend the night with him before this bubble of sexy deliciousness I was living in popped? I hoped so.

I hunted out a painkiller for my head and wondered again about my upcoming night with Dylan. I couldn't deny a few nerves. Dylan unleashed in all his raw, erotic maleness wasn't something I could quite imagine. I was sure it would be something I hadn't experienced before either.

Would I be able to handle it?

Sucking in a breath and ignoring the mess, for now, I went upstairs with my tea and toast. I was sure I'd packed some sexy red underwear, suspenders, stockings, and heels for my honeymoon. Too bad for Steven. He wouldn't be seeing them, but a sexy hockey player would get to feast his eyes and indulge his kinky fantasies with me wearing them.

Eight o'clock came, and I knocked on Dylan's door, fidgeting with my dress. One of the neighbors I didn't know was having a grill in their backyard. There were several people unloading food and drink from an SUV, and two young children were kicking a ball on the lawn.

I'd left Eduardo, Ben, and Theo snoozing in front of a movie; their hangovers were lingering. They'd given a half-hearted wave when I'd said I'd see them the next day, but Eduardo's gaze had lingered, as if he was trying to imagine what I was wearing beneath the plain black Prada dress. It was a relief when there hadn't been any judgement. They knew where I was going and who I'd be with and they accepted it.

The door opened, Dylan standing in the shadows of his hallway. He was dressed in black jeans and a black polo, his chest hair peeking from where the buttons were undone.

"In," he said, his voice low and sexy as hell.

I stepped inside, my heels clicking on the tiled floor, and set my purse on an occasional table.

The door closed, the evening light leaving us, and I found myself instantly surrounded by hot, hard muscle.

His mouth captured mine in a ravenous kiss, and he backed me up against the cool wall, knocking a small picture on its hook. My heart rate rocketed. His hunger for me was undeniable, and he wasn't hiding it.

He clasped my wrists and dragged my hands over my head, elongating my arms and torso. His chest was heavy on me, and his breaths came fast and urgent.

"Fuck," he murmured and wrapped his big fist around the neckline of my dress. "I want you so bad." He tugged the material, and it tightened around my shoulders. "I wanna rip this damn thing off you." His voice was more of an animalistic growl than a human's. "I wanna get you naked."

"So have me naked." A rush of lust and adrenaline burst into my veins, a heady mix that had my body on hyper-alert. "Rip it. Do it."

"Don't fucking tempt me." His nostrils flared, and he pushed his groin to mine.

He didn't exactly look like he needed any more tempting. I'd never seen a guy so desperate to fuck…to fuck me. It was utterly thrilling.

"Before you arrived I jerked off." He paused, studying my reaction. "I wouldn't have lasted otherwise. You'd already be naked and bent double, me shoving in hard and fast from behind."

My belly tightened, my nipples turning to hard points. "Where did you jerk off?"

"In a cold damn shower, thinking of you and your sweet tight pussy wrapping around my cock." The right side of his mouth twitched. "Coming around my cock."

I kissed him, my teeth grazing his bottom lip. "What's stopping you?"

He moaned softly. "We have all night."

"And you have plans?"

"You know I do."

"I'm curious."

"Sir." He paused, and a darkness glinted through his eyes. "I'm curious, Sir ."

I raised my eyebrows.

"Tonight, now, you'll call me Sir," he said. "I'm in control, I call the shots, and you'll acknowledge that in how you address me."

"Why should I let you take all of the control?" Right now, pinned to the wall, I didn't see how else it could go. He was so damn big and determined, his resolute expression one I'd seen when he'd been playing and going for goal. There was only one outcome when he had this look about him, and that was Dylan getting his way whether he was on or off the ice.

A tremble of longing and anticipation wended up my spine, and my pussy dampened. This guy was so damn hot. And tonight I was his.

"Why should you let me take control?" His eyebrows tugged low, shadowing his eyes further. "Because I know how to play your body, Pip, I will have your toes curling and your body pulsing in ecstasy. You'll still be trembling when the sun comes up 'cause I'm gonna make you come so hard and for so long and so many times, over and over and fucking over again."

I swallowed, my mouth drying, my body trembling already.

"You good with that?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Yes, Sir."

"Yes, Sir," I managed. The word was strange on my tongue, sexy and submissive. I was giving him permission to control my pleasure.

"Anything you don't like you say the word red, okay?"

"Red." Ah, my safe word, good, I'd forgotten about that.

"Don't forget it."

"I won't."

He swiped his lips over mine and lowered my arms. "But first we eat."

"Eat?"

"I know you need to eat, a lot, and after all that liquor last night and with what I have planned, you need food."

I noticed the air was laced with the scent of herbs, basil perhaps.

"Pasta." He stepped away but took my hand. "Pesto, chicken, pine nuts."

"You cooked?" I followed him through to the kitchen, straightening the neckline of my dress. Remembering it was worth over four thousand pounds, I was now glad he hadn't ripped it off me.

This was the first time I'd been in Dylan's home, and although the floor plan was similar to the brothers' pad, the walls were painted in richer colors and the furniture was darker. Gold-threaded drapes were half drawn, and low lighting created a moody atmosphere. Slow jazz played from a speaker over which was a family photograph in black and white—two parents, four kids, taken in front of a pretty home with tall trees and a sloping roof.

"It smells great."

He pulled out a seat at a long table. There was a single red rose in a vase, and the cutlery and napkin had been placed neatly.

I sat.

"No wine," he said, pouring sparkling water into a long glass. "Plenty last night, right?"

"I agree. Thanks."

"Pardon?"

I bit on my bottom lip. How far could I push him, and what would the consequences be if I pushed too far?

"Thank you, Sir ." I watched his expression carefully.

His lips tightened a fraction, and his pupils widened. Oh, he liked it. He liked being in charge, being called Sir. It yanked his chain…a lot.

I watched him scoop pasta into two bowls and then set them down on the table. He sat opposite me and tucked in.

"Did you enjoy seeing your mother on her birthday?" I asked.

"I don't wanna talk about my mother." He looked at me with his eyebrows raised.

"Oh…okay." I popped in some pasta—it was perfectly coated with pesto and a sprinkle of black pepper. "So what do you want to talk about?"

"I want to talk about your fantasies, Pip." He paused and cocked his head. "We fucked, back in that hotel, when you asked me to ‘fuck that man out of you' but that didn't really teach me much about you. Hell, we never even got to round two."

I nodded and took a sip of the cold water. "That was out of character for me, I'm not a one-night-stand girl."

"It wasn't a one-night stand, you're here now and I've seen you every day since."

"True. But I want you to know that's not me, not how I am sexually at least. I'm more reserved, more considered and usually would be much more involved with someone before I got naked."

"Because you're famous and you don't know who you can trust? If so, I understand that completely."

"Yes, I know you do, but…" I chewed some chicken then swallowed. "To be honest, that is probably part of it, and why it suited me being with Steven, he was in the same boat, same industry, but even if I wasn't famous I'm not…I haven't…" God, I didn't know how to say it. I'd only ever been vanilla, I had no experience with kink or calling someone Sir or giving up control, or having my clothes ripped off and pinned against a wall."

"Ah, I see." He directed his fork at me. "I understand now."

"You do?"

"Yeah." He smiled, one of his rare sexy grins that went to his eyes. "And I know what you need."

"And what's that?"

"It's easier to show you." He pointed at my meal. "Eat up."

My stomach clenched, but I was hungry so I carried on eating. I searched for a conversation but discarded them all. Dylan was clearly thinking of sex and pleasure and wouldn't be distracted.

After we'd eaten, he poured us more water and changed the music to something classic that I recognized but couldn't name. He stood, looked at me for a moment, seeming to see right through my clothes, then moved to an easy chair in the corner.

He gripped the base of his polo then dragged it up and over his head before tossing it to one side.

The sight of his wide, hairy chest and taut abdominal muscles had my pussy dampening. He was so damn gorgeous, and I wanted to get up close and personal again with all those acres of hard masculine flesh.

He sat, knees apart, hands curled around the ends of the arms. "You want dessert?"

"Depends what it is. I hate marzipan and clotted cream."

"What the fuck is clotted cream? Sounds gross."

I stood. "I'll take you for afternoon tea in England sometime, you can try it then."

He held up his index finger and made a ‘come hither' motion. "That's for another time, this is now. Come here."

I walked toward him, my heels clicking on the hard flooring until I reached the rug in front of the chair.

"On your knees," he said, his eye contact with mine unwavering.

"Yes, Sir." I folded down between his legs.

"Now undo my belt."

I reached forward, a slight shake in my hands. It wasn't nerves, it was anticipation and imagining what would happen in the night ahead. If he was going to call the shots, all I had to do was follow his lead. I could do that.

The leather slipped out, and I undid the buckle, letting the ends hang over his jeans.

"Get my cock out—that's your dessert, little girl."

Little girl. Fuck, I liked that. Why? No bloody idea, it just made me feel small and cared for somehow. Maybe I did have at least one kinky bone in my body.

"Like this, Sir?" I released the buttons on his fly. The thick wedge of flesh beneath the material told me how hard he already was.

"Yeah." His jaw tensed, and his fingertips tightened on the chair. He appeared cool, but I'd bet his pulse was thudding in his ears the way mine was.

When his fly was undone, I curled my fingers into the waistband. He raised his hips so I could pull his pants down and expose his black boxers. They had CK around the waistband.

"And them," he said, nodding at his groin. "Get my cock out like you were told."

I licked my lips, hoping my red lipstick had stayed in place. He was bound to have imagined this moment when planning our evening. I hoped it was living up to his expectations.

His boxers were tight, and I wriggled them and lifted them over his big cock. It sprang upward from his thick patch of dark pubic hair.

He cupped my chin in a firm grip. "You're gonna suck my cock until I tell you to stop, and when I tell you to stop, you are going to, instantly, and not move, not speak, nothing, okay? Completely still."

I nodded.

"Yes, Sir."

"Yes, Sir."

"So do it."

I licked my lips again and took his cock in my hand. The shaft was hot and solid, and I swiped my tongue over the tip.

"More," he said gruffly. "Suck it."

Damn, this man of mine was impatient. I wasn't complaining. I opened my mouth wide and took him in deep, not hesitating to let his cock tip hit the back of my throat. If he wanted it, I'd give it.

"Ah, sweet Jesus." He released the arm of the chair and slotted his fingers into my hair. "I imagined this but…fuck…reality."

I rose up, keeping my lips tight and using my hand, too. The weight of his fingers in my hair came with me, and he let out a tight groan.

He tasted of shower gel and man, slightly salty maybe, and I dipped back down. His cock twitched, and I knew he was enjoying my style.

"Ah, yeah, that's it."

He moaned, and I glanced up. He'd let his head fall back, and his eyes were closed. He was breathing deep and controlled, his chest and belly rising and falling.

For several minutes I worked him, adoring his cock with my mouth and loving the way he'd surrendered to me. Far from feeling like my power had been taken, I now held the key to his pleasure. It was a heady feeling of control.

After a while I explored lower and cupped his balls. Squeezing them gently, I took him even deeper into my throat.

"Ah, you little minx," he gasped, staring down at me. "Fuck."

He gripped my hair, and the roots stung, but I liked it. The sensation flew to my clit, and a need for more took hold.

I sped up, waiting for that first drip of pre-cum, waiting for his climax.

But instead of letting it grip him, he backed away, and I lost him from my mouth.

His teeth gritted. "Stop. Fuck. Stop, don't…move." He grasped his cock with both hands and squeezed the tip. "Don't fucking…move."

His expression was tight and his cheeks flushed. He was heaving in great lungfuls of air that expanded not just his chest but his belly, too.

I kept utterly still, my fingertips on his balls and my hair falling over my face.

"Ah, fuck, yeah…ah…ah…" He appeared to be experiencing absolute bliss. His body trembled, and a sheen of sweat sat in the hair at his sternum. "Ah…ah…" His head fell back on the seat, his Adam's apple protruding, and he let out a long, low groan that seemed to vibrate from his body to mine.

I watched his cock, waiting for cum to emerge from around the grip he had on it. But none came.

"Oh fuck." He seemed to sag and he let go of his cock.

It was still vividly erect, and I could see his pulse in the thick veins that roped up the length.

"God, that was good," he gasped.

I rested my hands on his thighs.

"No, keep still," he said, quickly, "just for another few seconds."

I did as he'd asked, wondering what the hell was going on.

And then he opened his eyes and stared down at me. He grinned, a big, very satisfied grin.

"Dylan," I asked. "What? I mean, didn't you want to come?"

"No, I didn't want to come, but I did want to orgasm, and I did…spectacularly."