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34
Dylan
The cloudsof the last couple of weeks are blown away by my night with Sky. We have a chance to make this work, to continue to meld into the Dylan and Sky we become when we're together. Sure, this won’t magically become perfect, but we can take one step at a time—steps I hope she'll take side by side with me.
Replicating the days at the beach house, I cook bacon in the kitchen I rarely use. Singing my Summer Sky song she’s yet to hear, I’m aware of someone entering the room behind.
"Last night wasn’t very successful, was it?"
I turn, spatula in hand. Steve walks over with tired eyes.
"It was for me." I grin.
Steve huffs and bangs around the kitchen as he pulls out a cup and heads for the coffee pot. "So another night fucking her and everything is okay?"
I stiffen at his use of the word. "We’ve decided to give this a go."
Steve sits on a stool and sips his coffee, face becoming a mask of displeasure. Why isn’t he pleased for me? "Great," he mutters.
"What?" I ask sharply. "This is what we want."
"This won’t work. Why bother?"
"Because this is what I want. I need to be with Sky to stay sane at the moment."
"Exactly. So when you lose her, she’ll fuck everything up."
I’m struck by his words, another reminder this is how things are. Steve doesn’t care about anything but our success and the money he makes, and will do anything to protect that. I've seen first-hand how skilful he is at protecting Blue Phoenix's control of the music world, which involves keeping us in line. I allowed him to make decisions I wasn't comfortable with because I confused him for a father figure. Steve is no longer a replacement for the Dad who left when I was a kid, and this gradual realisation hit the day before I ran to Broadbeach. For the first time in years, I stepped away, and now I see the control he has but have no idea how to break.
"That’s my decision to make," I snap.
Steve shakes his head slowly. "Well, I hope everything works out for you."
Like I believe him from his tone."You know what, Steve? I’ll do anything to make this work with Sky. And unless you want me fucking off again, I suggest you suck it up."
Steve's pitying look pisses me off, resolving my determination to make changes, including some he won’t like.
I consider our conversation, the words looping in my head, as I cross the house towards my bedroom. The bed is a tangled mess of sheets from last night, clothes strewn across the floor. Sky sleeps with an arm over her head, mouth open—and drool. I laugh to myself. She’d be mortified if she knew. But she’s real; the realest thing in my life since I was seventeen. Placing the tray on the nearby dresser, I stroke mussed hair from her eyes. Opening them, she wrinkles her nose.
"Bacon?" she asks sleepily.
"Yes. I’ve been practicing – I reckon I'll be a decent chef in no time." I kiss her forehead.
Sky traces a finger down my arm. "No idea why I never made the connection about the phoenix."
The sensation of her gentle touch along the outline of the blue phoenix from my bicep to shoulder bolts straight to my cock—well, that and the sheet slipping away from her naked tits.
Sky's eyes widen as she becomes aware of my dark-eyed scrutiny and she pulls the covers around herself, pouting.
"Don’t hide," I say, and unlace her fingers from the sheet.
She allows me, and I brush a thumb against her hardening nipple, cupping her breast in my hand as I move in and place my mouth on hers. My attempt at deepening the kiss fails as she pulls her head back.
"What about the sandwich?" she says and bites down a smile.
"Fuck, you turn me on," I say huskily, ignoring her.
"Don’t you swear at me, Mr Rock God." She pushes my shoulder playfully and I grab her hand, pulling a finger into my mouth. Her pupils dilate as our eyes meet and I remove the finger.
