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He suddenly plunged his fingers deep inside her, making Sarah gasp and groan. He buried his face in her thighs, pressing his tongue-tip against her throbbing clit, which pulsed powerful waves of ecstasy over her body – as he thrust his fingers rapidly against her pleasure zone, encouraging her to lose herself in joy.
Hardly aware of anything now but the honey-like bliss between her legs, she let her head drop back, welcoming the massive waves of dazzling delight as the orgasm possessed her. Sarah pushed herself into Dylan’s hand, grinding against him to ensure she absorbed total pleasure – one wave, then two, then three, then four… her pussy gripped his fingers, holding him in place until the last few tremors of passion swept through her.
Dylan raised his head – his mouth was smeared in her wetness and he looked pleased with himself. He treated her to the dazzling grin that he saved for occasions like this. Sarah giggled. She was still bound by the wrists to the chair, but she felt as if she was flying. Dylan gave her one last shudder of pleasure, fingering her deeply. She gasped and grinned, scrunching up her eyes with delight. Then he slowly reclaimed his fingers. They gazed into each other’s eyes, losing themselves in each other; floating together in the post-orgasm contentment that Dylan had created for her. The only sound that Sarah could hear now was the faint noise of the party downstairs. She focused her attention on the most handsome man she’d even met – who was in turn gazing at her with adulation. His tongue-tip was still sticking out absent-mindedly, which made Sarah laugh.
He was adorable. “Thank you, Dylan… you’re so good at that.”
“Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart.” He kissed her tenderly and untied her, then he helped her to stand on quivering legs. “You’re so beautiful, Sarah. So perfect.”
She sank into his warm arms and beamed at him, still floating back to earth after that wonderful orgasm. She smirked. “I owe you a blow job, don’t I?”
He hugged her tightly, pressing his firm cock against her. “That’s an offer I can’t refuse!”
Chapter Fifteen
Dylan awoke early the next morning with Sarah’s warm body snuggled up in his arms. He grinned. This was something he’d fantasised about for years – waking up in a big comfy bed and holding his beloved against his naked body. The sun was shining outside, casting a rainbow over the walls, which made Dylan feel as if he and Sarah were in their own private cocoon – a world that existed only for them. He craned his neck to gaze at her – she looked so peaceful, sleeping gently. So different to the wild, untamed woman he’d enjoyed being with last night, during their passionate love-making. His cock twitched, suddenly desperate to thrust deep inside her tight pussy again...
But it was so much more than lust with Sarah… he wanted her to know how much he still cared. Dylan had never been one for expressing his feelings – actions spoke louder than empty promises as far as he was concerned. He tightened his embrace, enjoying the sensation of them lying here breathing in unison. He refused to let her go again. He sensed she still cared for him, but he knew she was resisting. He needed to convince her that he was genuine. That he could be trusted. That he had no intention of hurting her.
She snuffled in his arms, and he realised he’d squeezed her a little too tight.
“Sorry, babe,” he whispered, kissing her on the head. “Go back to sleep.”
She smiled snoozily. “You’re comfortable.”
Affection seeped through his chest. “It’s perfect waking up with you in my arms.”
Her smile slowly faded, then she drifted off to sleep again. Dylan watched her affectionately, resolving to prove how much he cared – then hopefully he wouldn’t need to spell it out. Saying ‘I love you’ – just those three little words – sent terrors through his body. He didn’t know exactly what it was that made him so reluctant to express his feelings – probably a combination of having a military father and being the middle brother between Ivan and Adam, meaning that he was squashed between ‘adored first born’ and ‘worshipped youngest’ (at least until Clara and Joseph had been born several years later).
Whatever. Dylan wasn’t about to start psychoanalysing himself – god knows what he might uncover in the suppressed recesses of his psyche – it didn’t bear thinking about. All he needed to do was to let Sarah see that he loved her. Then hopefully she’d stick around.
Optimism rushed through him. Breakfast in bed, followed by a morning ravishing would be a great start. He eased himself out from under her, pulled on his trousers, then padded down to the kitchen.
It was another scorcher in London. The sun was shining through the huge windows at the front of the house, but the kitchen flagstones were nice and cool on his bare feet. It was clean and modern in here, bright and airy. Amy had chosen this rental property quickly, but she had a great eye for style.
He stepped over to the kettle and flicked it on, trying to remember how Sarah liked her tea. The British were so goddamn particular about it. Dylan chuckled to himself as he tried to remember whether it was milk before water or the other way around.
He made a pot of coffee and put some bread in the toaster. Then, as he glanced out into the summer room, he realised that Joseph was sitting in there, staring out the window into the lush garden. Poor kid. The Quinlans tended to be pretty pragmatic about life, and they didn’t generally stop to wallow in the bad times – they just got on with things the best they could. But maybe Joseph needed a shoulder right now. Not only had he seen Natalia brutally murdered yesterday, but he still thought his beloved oldest brother was dead. They’d always been very close, and Joseph had been devastated when he’d learned of Ivan’s passing.
Dylan poured out two mugs of coffee and carried them into the summer room. This was a lovely place to think – precisely as Joseph was. The walls and ceiling were made of glass, and the view of the summer-swollen garden was mesmerising – the green trees and brightly coloured blooms looked spectacular against the bright blue sky this morning. The wicker furniture in here gave the space a peaceful and rustic ambience, but Dylan could see that his brother’s mind was disturbed.
“Hey, Joe.”
Joseph glanced up through bleary eyes. “Oh hey, Dylan.”
“You’re up early.”
“Yeah. I woke up at six. The sun was shining in my drapes.”
Dylan sat down with him on the creaky wicker couch and handed him a coffee. “You thinking about what happened yesterday?”
His face flashed with guilt. “Oh no. I was thinking about the charity gig I’m organising for my twentieth birthday. It’s only a few days now.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right! How’s it coming along?”
“Fine I think. Just gotta get through it.”
“Which charity is it?”
