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29
February 15th (Richmond, VA)
Sky
The elevator doorsclose behind us, and I smooth my blue silk shirt again, the third time in as many minutes. Dylan leans against the side of the elevator, legs crossed at the ankles. He’s dressed down for the occasion, his grungy but sexy mix of faded T-shirt and hugging-in-the-right-places jeans dragging me to memories of my Dylan from Broadbeach. I itch to smooth his longer hair from his face so I can see his eyes more clearly but if I touch him, I’ll want to kiss him, and then… Well.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m nervous. This situation is okay for you seasoned professionals.”
“Don’t say much to them if you don’t want to; I’ll do the talking.”
“I don’t intend to.”
Tina has oh-so-kindly arranged for a magazine to interview Dylan and me. Now that the fans accept our relationship, they want to know more. Everything. The decision is made for us—fill in the gaps before the media does. I hate the idea, but also understand why talking to them makes sense.
Lost in thought, I catch a familiar glint in Dylan’s eye as he circles an arm around my waist.
“You look good,” he says, his gaze trailing heat across the exposed part of my chest.
“Oh.” I fasten a button on the blue blouse to cover myself up.
“Um…” Dylan undoes it.
“Um?” I ask, redoing the button.
In a swift movement, he backs me against the wall, hand immediately sliding beneath my black skirt onto my bare leg. His warm fingers sneak up my inner thigh and I take a sharp breath, the sensation of his rough palm triggering heat not far from his fingers.
“Don’t,” I murmur unconvincingly .
“Have you ever been fucked in an elevator by a rock star?” he whispers, pressing me into the wall with his hips, and his evident arousal does nothing to quell mine.
“No, and I’m not starting today,” I breathe out despite certain parts of my anatomy disagreeing with my decision.
“Don’t be boring, Sky.” Still pinning me to the wall, he slowly undoes the buttons on my blouse.
I grab his hand. “Dylan Morgan!”
“Sky Davis?”
“I don’t think…” I don’t get to finish the sentence because Dylan’s mouth crushes mine, knocking my head back into the wall.
I wriggle against him and when he laughs against my mouth, I nip his bottom lip. Dylan pulls away slightly and I relax, certain he’ll back off. Instead, he grabs my backside and lifts me, winding my legs around his waist. The rough denim of his jeans scrapes my thighs, another signal to my body’s memories of Dylan. Before I can speak, his mouth is back on mine, capturing my tongue with his. Dylan runs a hand between my legs and I curse the fact he’ll know I’m aroused when I’m telling him no.
“Don’t be boring, summer Sky,” he whispers, sliding a finger beneath the edge of my underwear. I grasp onto Dylan’s hair as his fingers slide along my pussy. “Fuck, you’re wet for me.” There are a hundred protests in my head—such as the elevator door opening any second—but my desire stops the power of speech. Dylan’s hand placement isn’t helping and when he pushes a finger into me, I’m lost.
“Shit, Dylan, we’re going to an interview, I can’t do this now,” I manage to moan out.
His hot, heavy breath covers my face. "Your fault for being too fucking sexy."
“Can we indulge your fantasy later?” I breathe, watching the lit numbers descend as the elevator heads for its destination.
“Are you sure?” He skins his thumb across my clit and I’m on the edge of being persuaded.
“Afterwards. On the way back up. Dylan…”
“Okay, but I’m not putting you down until you come.”
What is it about Dylan that he can turn me on almost at the click of his fingers with the slightest touch or one word? With the unyielding strength of his chest, his freshly showered smell and the essence of Dylan Morgan surrounding me, I close my eyes and become aware of nothing but him and the spiralling heat inside, uncurling and spreading through my limbs. Dylan whispers in my ear all the things he plans to do in the elevator on the way back, and I’m his as the orgasm explodes through and I bite his shoulder to muffle the sound.
When the elevator doors open, Dylan brushes my shirt, smirking at me as I re-adjust my clothes. Thankfully, nobody is waiting outside the doors and I shakily follow Dylan into the hallway. He pauses, turns and appraises me with a darkened, annoyingly smug look.
“Feel more relaxed now?” he asks, and then laughs as I smack him in the chest.
