After All - Part Forty One

Chapter Forty One

In the back of the car they sat in silence, Matilda’s small hand ensconced in Dylan’s large one. He knew she was terrified, but then so was he. As they moved through the suburban streets he glanced at her frequently, she was intently studying the passing scenery, anything but looking at him. So he lifted her hand to his lips, but instead of kissing it, he sucked her index finger into his mouth swirling his tongue around it sensually.

That made her head snap around, shock and desire so blatant on her face, she tugged at her hand, but he shook his head, lips still fastened around her finger, sucking softly.

                “Dylan,” she breathed, and is was his turn to be consumed with lust, memories of her moaning his name in an almost identical fashion half an hour earlier flashed to his mind...and groin.

With a chuckle he released the finger and smiled, “desperate times call for desperate measures.”

She gave an awkward shrug.

                “I know...this is weird, all of it. But what isn’t is being with you. We’ll sort the rest out, ok? We can do this.”

She relaxed a little, accepting his arm around her shoulders, leaning into him, “it is strange.”

He leaned in, close to her ear, “I could call ‘it’ many things, but never strange. It was magical...Matilda Davies, I think I am becoming addicted to you.” When she rolled her eyes he laughed, “you think I just mean sex? Cos I don’t. I even enjoy the way you shout at me like I’m a ten year old boy...”

She turned to that and lifted an eyebrow, “ten year old?”

That made him laugh again, “when you’re shouting nothing else!”

The conversation had seen them hit the edge of London, and as the car moved along a familiar street, he leaned to the driver and got him to pull over, then he dashed out with an apologetic smile, bit no explanation. As she saw him disappear in to a deli, she was grateful that he was at last thinking of the bigger picture, she hadn’t eaten since lunchtime.

With a grin he dropped the bag on the floor of the car between them, “man cannot live on love alone you know?” She peered in the bag, “Cristal champagne? Hardly survival food!”

He laughed, “celebration food lover!”

It was such a flippant and innocuous comment, if it hadn’t been the name he’d called her throughout the duration of their time together.

She froze a little awkwardly and he gave a sigh, “sorry...that was automatic. I didn’t...”

Matilda looked up and him and gave a smile, “I imagine our life is going to be filled with faux pas and awkwardness for a while.”

He liked that sentiment, the acknowledgement that there would be issues, but none they couldn’t deal with, but also the longevity of the statement, the confirmation that she could sense this going far, that this could be their second chance at forever.

The car dropped them outside his apartment block, and they travelled up together in the elevator. It was a little stilted, awkward still, but then this was new territory for them both. Dylan took the bag from the deli in to the kitchen, storing the champagne and nibbles in the fridge. When he finished, he looked across the airy, open plan room at Matilda, stood staring out at the darkening horizon.

                “You over thinking things?”

She turned slowly watching him approach, her eyes roving over him greedily, then gave a little shrug, “just thinking.” She turned back to the window and she continued to stare out.

Dylan stood behind her, placing his hands on her hips, lowering his chin to her shoulder he sighed, “you make this view seem amazing!”

His hands slid around to the front of her pelvis, and he was rewarded with him leaning back into him, their bodies touching again. Lips at her ear, he sighed, “you are amazing...”

She chuckled at that, a soft throaty sound that sent shudders through his body, “you’re not too bad yourself.”

                “No?” he flicked his tongue over her earlobe and grinned when she shuddered, he could barely think straight as she started to push back into him, grounding her firm buttocks into his groin. “Enough!” He announced as he took her hand and dragged her into his bedroom.

                “I thought I could hold out, wine, dine you...but I can’t.”

She smiled as he reached for her hands, a coquettish smile, moving into his arms, she brought her lips to his, and it was that same spark that same desperation that drove them towards the bed. As they tumbled into the mattress, Dylan pulled his head up looking down at her spread across his pillows. It was a fine sight, her dark vibrant curls, her pert nose, lust filled eyes and those full well kissed lips. When she licked those lips, he moaned almost painfully.

                “God you are THE most sexy woman I have ever known.”

That caused a ‘cat got the cream’ smile and she purred like a cat as his hand washed over her sensually pausing at her knee to raise the dress once more.

                “I didn’t get time to fully appreciate this earlier!” His fingers stopped at the lace tops of the pull ups she wore, tracing over them in circles as his fingers moved around her thigh, he was half lying over her, but from that angle he could see all of her.  Once he’d finished his studious attention of her stockings, his hand started to hitch up her skirt. With a grin, she lifted her hips, allowed him to bare her hips, then rolled to let him unzip her dress. Sitting up she pulled the dress over her shoulders, basking in the hungry look in his eyes.

As he moved to kiss her, hands reaching for her body, she slid out of his grasp, “nuh-uh, MY turn.”

Then for Dylan came the longest ten minutes of his life as Matilda divested him of every item of clothing, slowly, deliberately, the odd flick of fingers or taste of tongue the only direct contact between them.

Mattie was proud of her handy work, she’d managed to wrestle Dylan on to his back, and now the only thing he wore was a pair of boxer shorts that were struggling to hide his desperation for her. She moved to sit astride him, glad of the moment to take in his broad chest, hairless other than the snake of hair from his belly button down to the waist band of his black shorts, so familiar, yet so different to the images in her memory. She scraped at it with her finger nail, grinning at the lurch if his shorts at that touch. Dylan groaned, and reached for her, pulling her down on top of him, lips mashing together, breaths rasping. She felt his hands as they tugged at her bra, unfastening it for the second time that day, then his hands slid around her chest to sup her breasts, her breath catching as he tweaked at her nipples.

Within seconds he had flipped her over, so that he hovered over her, their tongues still duelling, until his lips trailed a path down her body. He spent an age slaving at each breast, touching, kissing, licking, sucking, all the time controlling her bucking body. Mattie could do nothing but let her head roll from side to side. Then his mouth started to slide down, over her ribs, around her belly button, until he nuzzled at the band at the top of her lace knickers. As his fingers started to tug at them, lower them, she held her breath, to be so exposed, so vulnerable to his eyes made her feel uncomfortable, scared. But as he tossed the scrap of material over his shoulder and pulled her legs over each of his shoulders, a whole different host of emotions took over, and within moments she worried about nothing more than his hands, his lips and that damn blessed tongue.

She was still coming down from the almost transcending trajectory she’d shot off at, when he was back with her, over her, kissing her. Then with a sigh, a moan almost, he slid into her again. Joining them as closely as they could be, and it was almost ethereal.

It was ages later that Mattie could lift her head from Dylan’s shoulder. Whatever she had expected this with Dylan to be like, it had surpassed any expectation. There was the combination of familiarity, yet the benefit of age, experience, confidence. Suddenly they both knew what they wanted, and she had suddenly lost her nervousness and insecurity and made demands of him, both physically and verbally, and he’d been the same. And it had led to quite honestly the most liberating and exciting experience of her life.  As she looked down at his face, relaxed, eyes close, breathing deep, she smiled, she’d never stopped loving this man, and now, his arms around her, his leg holding her close, she felt loved, desired, and that was liberating too.

                “It’s late...and I’m starving.” She suggested and giggled when one eye opened theatrically, “wasn’t there champagne somewhere?”

He rolled slightly and gave another groan, “really? After ALL you’ve forced me to do? You want me to get up...provide refreshment.”

Laughing she swiped at his shoulder, “don’t think there was a lot of forcing going on.”

He brushed his lips across hers, “au contraire, you wiggle that cute arse, or thrust those beautiful boobs in my face. What’s a red blooded man supposed to do?”

Wriggling against him, doing exactly what he’d just ‘complained’ about, Mattie laughed, “get me champagne and food. That’s what I’m talking about!”

With a theatrical groan he rolled over then pulling on his boxers, strolled out of the room, only stopping at the doorway to blow her a kiss.

She stretched, appreciating the width of the bed, but missed his warmth, so reaching for the shirt he’d worn home from the hotel; she pulled it over her nudity, then followed him out to the kitchen. He was filling a tray with olives, sliced meat, bread and of course the strawberries and champagne.

He looked up as she entered the kitchen, “can’t wait?”

Hauling herself up to sit on the counter she shrugged, “didn’t like the thought of crumbs in that bed.”

                “Good point!” He expertly popped the cork on the champagne then filled two glasses, handing her one. “And I have the feeling you’ll want me to feed you?”

Giggling she sipped the champagne, then nodded, “that sounds good.”

And he did. Loading small slices of bread with cheese, or salami and popping them in her mouth; it wasn’t until he fed her an olive that he managed to dribbled oil all over her chest, just above the opening of his shirt, that he threw down the food and dragged her off to the shower.

When they finally returned for the champagne, it had lost all its fizz.