Page 119 of Unbreakable
I found him waiting for me outside the bathroom, looking ridiculously dashing. Moments like those are when it hits me just how hot Dylan is. His suit was a deep midnight blue, close but not completely matching my dress. It fit like a glove, giving hint to the carved marble of his muscles below it. And I was the person who got to know that he has the most scrumptious dusting of dark hair on those muscles. I’d probably had my mouth on every inch of his body in eight years, and his on mine.
Because he was mine.
When I made it over to him, he greeted me with a kiss. He stayed close, handing me a glass of champagne. “Do you have something you need to give me?”
“Where shall I deposit it? Perhaps your pocket?” I hummed. “You’ll have to hold this glass.”
He did, and watched as I tucked my purse by my breasts, opening it to extract the panties. “These?” I asked, raising my brows.
I didn’t miss the catch in his breath when he said, “Mmhmm.”
I wadded them up in my hand and slipped it down to his pocket, tucking them inside.
“Very good,” he said, so low I could feel the rumble between my legs.
A man walked through the lobby ringing chimes to tell everyone to get back to their seats.
“Let’s go,” he said, giving my champagne flute back. “Wouldn’t want to miss the show.”
As we reentered our box, I headed for my seat, but Dylan caught my wrist and pulled me back. The theater lights dimmed as he took my glass and set it on the side table. In one quick motion, he spun me around and pinned me against the back wall of the box.
“Dylan,” I said, pretending to be upset when I was not upset in the least. “They’ll see us.”
His eyes heated, his head dipping to my collarbone. He nibbled, nipping me with his teeth, causing my hips to jerk into his. He held me so tenderly, but there was no doubt what he wanted. His face journeyed farther south, into my cleavage, drawing his tongue along the exaggerated sweetheart neckline.
“Yes?” he asked as his hand slipped into the slit of my skirt. His fingers caressed my hip, dragging slow circles into the sensitive skin.
“Yes.”
We met in a kiss as the music started. I wrapped my leg around his hips, finding him thick and hard for me. My Dyl, who thrilled me, filled my cup, made me whole. My Dyl, who reminded me of my wildness, and worked to bring me out of my hole. My Dyl, who created a special occasion just for us to enjoy some time together.
His hips found a rhythm with mine and I had a vague concern that my dress would have a streak on it by the time we were done. He kissed everywhere: my neck, my shoulders, the tops of my breasts. I pushed his jacket off his shoulders, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt one, two times, raking my fingers through his exposed chest hair.
“We should sit,” he said. “Your favorite song’s coming up.”
When I was about to protest, he dragged a chair behind the curtain at the edge of our box. He sat and patted his thighs. “Sit.”
Any fight had left me. I couldn’t fully understand what he wanted, but whatever it was, I knew I wanted it too.
I sat on his lap facing the stage. We were mostly hidden from view, but I could still see the stage. He probably couldn’t, but from the way he was licking up the exposed skin of my spine, he had other concerns.
“I got us these nice seats because you’ve been such a good girl,” he whispered in my ear. “Now pull up the skirt on this gorgeous dress and let me reward you.”
His fingers bunched the fabric, inching it up bit by bit, and I shifted so he could slide it back. The skirt covered enough in the front, just in case someone above us on the other side of the theater could see us somehow. My legs now bare, he hooked his feet on the insides of mine, spreading my legs wide. He was holding me open, leaving me at his mercy, my skirt still draping over the scandalous parts.
“That’s it. Now don’t be rude. Watch the show.”
His fingertips traced up the inside of my thigh from my knee. When he reached my wetness, which had smeared on my legs, he swirled his fingers through it and placed a gentle kiss on my shoulder blade. “Did you make a mess, Jeanine?”
I nodded, afraid to talk and draw attention to us. He was good at keeping his voice low, but I sucked at it. This fact had been proven by our Halloween tryst when Alice thought I was hurt.
With one soft finger, he drew over my clit and down to the source of my wetness, dipping a finger inside. He held his finger to my lips. “You’d better clean up your mess, Jeannie.”
I sucked his finger into my mouth, tasting a mix of his salty skin and my own tangy arousal.
“You really are such a good girl,” he cooed. “I think I should do something really sweet for you.”
His hand returned to my pussy, obscured by my skirt that was bunched in the front. He drew my labia together and rubbed up and down slowly. My head dropped back as I tried to close mylegs, but he held them open. “Watch the show, Jeannie. Let me take over.”
