Without saying anything, he grabs the shampoo and pours some into his hand, working it into a lather before massaging the floral scent into my hair, going from the roots all the way to the ends. I sigh from the pressure of his fingertips pressing into my scalp.
When he’s done, I tip my head back again, and he helps the falling water wash all the soap away. Once everything is rinsed out, he finds the conditioner and repeats the steps from before. The feeling of his hands on my body is the most soothing thing, and once he’s rinsed out all the conditioner, I grab the bar of Irish Spring soap and lather it in my hands, letting the soapy bubbles appear and the crisp, citrusy smell take over the small space we’re in. Then, I massage the soap all over his arms, shoulders, chest, stomach, my hand trailing lower and getting closer to the deep V that leads down to his growing cock.
He grunts as my fingertips graze the skin at the base, and I look up at him, offering my own smirk in his direction. I put the soap back and slowly wrap my hand around his hard length, gripping it tightly before moving up and down. My other hand comes around to his back to steady myself, and he trails his fingers from my shoulders down to my chest, until they reach my breasts, pinching my already peaked nipples. Warmth floods down into my lower belly from the contact, and when he starts to palm and massage my breasts, a soft sigh escapes.
I look up to meet his eyes once more before letting go of his cock and lowering down to my knees. He fists my hair and pulls it out of my face as I bring my tongue to his tip and swipe over it. I lick up and down his length, revelling in the ragged breaths he lets out as my hand comes to grip his balls and massage them in time with the swipe of my tongue.
“Fuck, Luce—” is all he can say before my mouth comes over him fully, and I take him to the back of my throat, sucking as I go. I keep up a steady pace, drool pooling at the corners of my lips before getting washed away by the falling water. He’s got a hold of my wet hair, pulling it at the roots as he lets out a moan from the pleasure I’m bringing him. “You’re gonna make me come with that pretty little mouth of yours,” he says as his body starts to twitch and jerk.
All I do is hum in response and keep up my pace, massaging him as I go, ready and willing to take all of him, so turned on by the groans and sounds he’s making. Finally, his hands leave my hair, and I hear them slap against the tiled wall as his body tenses, and he lets out a loud growl. My mouth fills with warm, salty liquid, and I swallow it all down, still sucking as it continues to pour out of him. “Fuck,” he yells when he’s finished.
I remove my mouth from his still-throbbing cock and look up at him with a teasing grin. He grips under my arms and lifts me from my knees back to a stand. Before I can say or do anything, his lips are on mine, tongues connecting. He cups the back of my head and pulls my face close to his, as if he can’t bear any separation from me. The feeling is mutual.
His free hand slides down the side of my glistening body until it reaches my thigh. Fingers trail toward my centre, and when he gets close to my entrance, he whispers in my ear, “I’m gonna fuck you with my fingers now, Luce.”
I gasp, and he slips a finger inside me, curling it up as he does. It feels amazing, but I want more already. He pumps it in and out, and when I whine, he adds a second finger, filling me even more.
“That feels so good,” I cry when his thumb finds my clit and draws circles as his fingers keep sliding in andout. He pushes them as far up as he can, and my knees buckle from the aching feeling.
A free hand comes around my side, holding me up. “Don’t worry.” His voice is a low growl. “I’ve got you.”
He keeps his thumb on me, moving in perfect, languid circles, and I’m close to coming. His mouth meets mine again as my toes curl from the sensation, my impending orgasm growing. My breath hitches as a third finger slides inside, and when his commanding voice tells me, “Come on my fingers now, love,” I lose my vision momentarily as shock waves of ecstasy pour through me. I cry out as my body quivers from my release. Dylan doesn’t stop, doesn’t hold back, until my breathing slows and I begin to relax. I fall into him, and he kisses my mouth, nose, and forehead as he wraps his arms around me.
“I love you so much, Lucy,” he whispers into my hair, and I hold him tighter, trying not to count down the days until he’s gone.
Chapter Thirty-Three
We get out of the shower and get dressed in silence. There are still so many words left unsaid between us over what I told him only hours ago. I know he’s still processing everything, and what just happened doesn’t actually solve the situation that we’re in.
“I love you,” I say to him again as he pulls a dark green sweater over his T-shirt to fight the chill in the air.
A small smile grows as he responds, “I love you too.” Taking my hand in his, he brings it up to his lips and kisses it. “Want to go for a walk? It’s supposed to rain later, but it’s clear now.”
“Sure, that would be nice.” I put my damp hair up in a claw clip and throw on my oversized pink sweater again.
We step outside the back door, and the chill from the wind instantly greets us. This has been a bristly September—the leaves have started to fall, and the warmth from the sun is waning as a cool autumn breeze takes its place by the coast. We walk hand in hand on the path that leads into town. The only sounds around us are the wind, the water,and the odd cry of a seagull flying overhead, eyes scanning for fish or clams to eat.
We make it into Killick Bay, the town as busy as ever on a Sunday. The streets buzz with people moving between the market and the docks, hauling their freshly caught fish to sell. “I like this town,” I say to him as I gaze around at all the different vendors selling everything from plants, flowers, and pottery to seafood, fresh-baked bread, and pastries. Everyone is taking the time to talk to one another, and people seem genuinely happy to be out socializing. It feels similar to Pleasant Cove.
“I like it too,” he tells me. “But sometimes it reminds me of all the things I’ve lost. Raven, my parents…” He drifts off as he stares up the street. “Sometimes I wish I could leave, but I don’t know what else I would do. Being a lighthouse keeper is all I’ve ever known.”
I want to ask so badly about the beautiful pictures he sketches, but I keep my mouth shut. I can imagine one of his pieces hanging on the walls of Pleasant Coffee. But he hasn’t shared that part with me yet, and I want to wait until he feels ready to do so.
“Not that it matters, really,” he quietly adds after a pause, and I squeeze his hand in mine and blink back any tears that threaten to fall.
“I’m sorry, Dylan. I know this is so hard. Everything that’s happened and everything you’re coming to terms with now.”
“Being with you helps,” he murmurs as we keep going, wandering through the crowded streets together. In a sea of people, it feels like it’s just the two of us here right now.
We walk a little more until I spot the familiar steely blue eyes of my new friend coming over to us. She greets us both with a soft smile, her wild dark hair tied up inthe first bun I’ve seen. It’s the most kept and tidy hairstyle yet. Today, she’s wearing a loose purple dress with pockets and long sleeves. Over her top is an acid-wash denim jacket.
“Iris, hi,” I say as I walk over to greet her. Dylan follows and offers a small wave as well. There’s an elephant in the room with us right now, as we all know things but are unsure who knows exactly what.
Her eyes dart back from Dylan to me and then make their way down, eyebrows raised as she spots the clasped hands between us. “Ah,” is all she says as she falls in line beside me and continues to walk with us down the street.
“It’s nice to see you again,” Dylan says as he turns his head to look past me to Iris.
“You too, Dylan,” she responds rather wistfully. She gently touches my arm and leans in to me. “Tell me, dear. Is everyone on the same page now?”
