Waiting for You (15 page)

Walking forward, he
pushed me against the edge of the concrete, my back scrapped against the rough
stucco. His hips shifted against mine, the hardness between my legs confirmed
he wanted me. “Does that answer your question?” he whispered into my neck
before kissing me deeply.

His kisses never failed
to touch me to my very center. It was always something where I felt anchored to
him. Whenever I kissed Eric, it felt like a robotic motion. With Dylan, it felt
natural.

Before it could get
heated more than it was, Dylan pulled away. “Come on brown eyes, let’s get some
sleep.”

Damn it. With a heavy
sigh, I followed. I understood his hesitation, I did. But I also hated it. I
had emotions and feelings better jarred inside me and no way for them to be
released.

When we got back to the
room, Dylan immediately headed for the bathroom.

Laying
on the bed, I
tried to sleep but something inside me, that jarred part, was restless from the
night. It was near three in the morning, the light coming in through the room
was softening from the navy blue to lighter tones.

That’s when I heard
a thump from the bathroom and thought that maybe Dylan had passed out in there.
Concerned, I stepped closer to the bathroom door and found that it was cracked.
Naturally, I peeked but I couldn’t see anything with the steam.

Standing there, nervous,
my legs tingled ready to run away at the first indication that he might have
noticed me standing outside the door.

I pushed a little
but the door resisted. Looking down, I noticed the towel he used at the pool
and his underwear on the floor wedged under the door. I stuck my head through
the door and squinted to see through the steam, still nothing I could make out
so I closed the door and sat outside it to listen.

Who wouldn’t?

With the noises, I
was sure that he was doing something other than just your average shower. After
all the teasing, I knew he had to have been touching himself.

That’s when I
flipped over on my stomach and pushed the door open a little more despite the
wedged clothes. Sure enough, there he was, arm bent at the elbow, forearm
resting against the tile with his right hand trained in front of him. His chest
shook as if he was crying, his muscles contracting and flexing, but I knew when
his head dipped forward and he moaned that he was touching himself.

Fuck you steam,
clear out of my way! Blinking rapidly, I tried to get a better view but he was
like looking through a frosted window and all I could see was his silhouette
which honestly made it that much more erotic.

Look at me. Just a
week with those boy and I was using words like sexy and erotic.

“Fuck,” Dylan’s
voice came out in a growl. Squinting again, I noticed his movements sped.

I felt the heat
rush between my legs, jarred sensations spread like wildfire, I started to
tremble, and my cheeks burned. My heart was hammering but I couldn’t move from
my army crawl position. I listened as his moans rose above of the water, and
suddenly he slammed his palm against the tile. “Goddamn it.”

Thinking he noticed
me, in full panic mode, I scrambled to the bed. Panting, rapidly watching the
door, I put my arms behind my head tried to compose myself.

As I waited, the
heat between my legs was there, calling to me and remembering what Dylan’s
touch felt like at the bar and in the pool earlier, and then my brain filled
away those images of him in the shower and I was definitely not tired anymore.

As if it was on its
own mission, my hand traveled south.

I heard the water cut off and the glass
door banging open. When he made his way back into the room, his expression was
tense. My hand shot up from under the blanket and it was obvious what I had
been doing, but guess what, he was still a little hard. It was definitely
outlined under that towel he had around his waist. I could see it. It was right
there.

When he
laid
down on the bed beside me, I noticed he had put
underwear on as the towel slipped aside.

Once under the
blanket with me, our legs touched and his face relaxed and he inhaled deeply
before grabbing me roughly and crushing my body to his. Welcoming this, I
buried my face in his chest and clung to him as my fingers dug into his back
and my leg rising around his waist.

He kissed my chest
above my heart; his nose nudged the straps of my tank top and pried my hands
from his back.

The slow need
between us was building and we couldn’t deny it any longer. We both knew it.
Something had to be done but I don’t think he was willing to let anything
happen. His hips shifted and I felt him there, between my legs and moaned.

“Were you really
touching yourself?” he asked his tone rough and needy against mine.

I nodded. “I was
but I’ve never done that before.” I kissed him again and raised my hips
slightly searching for that same friction I felt when we had been dancing. Only
now, only the thin fabric of our underwear separated us. “I don’t really know
how.”

Part of me, the
extremely curious and hormonal part was praying he took the hint.

I pressed against
him, grabbing his face in my hands and forcing his lips to part.

“Were you touching
yourself in the shower?” I asked finding his mouth again.

Nodding, he moved
his lips to my neck. “I tried, but, I want you. I want you so bad I can’t…
fuck
…”
his mouth was back to my lips, his fingers digging into my hips and his pushed
forward again.

Pressing back just
as fiercely as my hips were pushing up, my legs parted to accommodate his hips
and he ran his hands from my knees to my shoulders; roughly grasping me and
making me writhe with need.

He grunted and I
could feel him harder than before, we both stopped kissing for second and he
looked at me.

His mouth moved to
my ear, his fingers dug into my hip. “Is this okay?” he whispered still moving
above me.

There was no way
for me to form words at that point much less complete a sentence to respond.

Abruptly, he stopped
and rolled over gasping. “We can’t brown eyes. I’m about to rip
your
fucking clothes off and make you scream my goddamn
name,” he groaned in a rumble, “…but you’re not ready.”

I was about ready
to rape him. I was. But I also knew absolutely nothing about sex or the
ramifications it caused for a relationship, or whatever we had. Dylan was way
more experienced in that so I left that alone.

Don’t get me wrong,
I was extremely confused.

Dylan turned over
to face away from me, his breathing harsh and labored.

“Why?”

He knew what I
meant without elaborating and turned back to face me. He swallowed attempting
to control what he couldn’t. “I don’t want to ruin anything that we could have
together just because I can’t get your body out of my head,” he whispered
watching my reaction. “You mean more to me than that, brown eyes.”

“But I want it to
be you…” Again, he knew exactly what I was referring to.

“And I will be.” He
gave me a nod still watching me. “But there’s no need to rush.”

I had some
arguments about us stopping but I wasn’t going to push him.

Unfortunately, for
me, sleeping me had some other ideas.

Sometime that morning before the sun had
come up; I woke up feeling Dylan’s leg between my legs, and a rather nice
tingling sensation down there. Looking around the room, the only light was the
gray seeping in through the dark curtains.

My eyes grew wide
in fear of being caught, like he would have woken up if he knew what was
happening or heard the moan that escaped my lips when our position shifted slightly.
His response was to lift his leg higher and my eyes rolled back. The friction
was what I wanted so badly and he was asleep, or appeared to be.

I’ll be honest with
you, and I’m sure you’ve gathered this by now but I’ve never had an orgasm. And
if I did, I didn’t recognize it was that. After conversations with Mercedes and
Jessica, I was sure I’ve never because as they described that earth shattering
high that made you feel like goo, I never remembered feeling that other than
the time I took pain killers when I broke my ankle at cheer camp freshman year.

Given my lack of
experience in this, and the feelings Dylan was stirring up down there, more
importantly, the last few hours, had me wanting one badly and the mere idea of
Dylan giving me one when he’s not even aware of actually giving me one, was far
more tempting than it should be.

Testing him, I
tried to twist in his arms. My eyes caught the clock and saw that it was now
six thirty in the morning.

His left arm was
draped over me so I picked it up and then let it fall about three inches.
Nothing.

Taking a deep
breath, I prepared myself and tried not to focus on the fact that his leg moved
again. Just when I was about to stop and push him away, he had other ideas and
held onto me tighter, his thigh shifting again. So, while I was trying to be
noble and not molest him in his sleep, sleeping Dylan had other ideas. Sleeping
Dylan wanted to play…and well shit…I wanted to play too. I wanted that earth
shattering high everyone talked about and I didn’t want the broken ankle to go
with it this time.

“Shit,” I breathed
softly as a sleeping Dylan moved again. I threw my head back due to the
sensation of his warm skin against mine.

Sleeping
Dylan’s hand that was across my stomach moved and traveled up my ribs, under my
tank top and to my breast.
I wasn’t wearing a bra, so guess who that
was now touching my boob.

Sleeping
Dylan.

Checking again to
make sure he was still sleeping, I examined his face carefully, to make sure
that he wasn’t awake. His head was forward, against my shoulder, his breath on
my neck, slow and deep.

I nearly swallowed
my tongue in excitement when his thigh moved again and his body shift just
enough that half his body was on mine with his hips pressing into my left
thigh.

Peering at him
again, his eyes were closed. He was definitely asleep, because even though his
breathing was turning labored and his lips were slightly parted, his face was
calm.

Part of me
understood I should move but then the other part wanted this so bad.

For a second, I
almost felt bad for allowing this to happen and not doing anything to
reciprocate.

Then I felt it, his
hips bucked against my thigh.

He was hard.
Sleeping Dylan was hard.

Awake, Bailey was
wet, really wet.

Sleep Dylan moaned
and that was like a switch for me. I couldn’t stop myself.

 His movements
were perfect. Without intending to, I allowed my hips to move with Dylan’s in
order to increase the pressure between my thighs. This earned me a desperate
whimper from Dylan and my eyes immediately flicked to his to ensure that he was
still asleep.

Please be
asleep…please
be
asleep.
I knew if he were
awake, he wouldn’t allow this. He would push me away and tell me some bullshit
line that I wasn’t ready. Damn it, I was ready, I was!

After a thorough
exam, Dylan was still asleep, much to my own relief. I clenched my eyes shut,
fighting to pull away but also struggling to stay put in order to grab hold of
that sensation…the one I haven’t felt before…the one that makes you want to
laugh and cry at the same time. So Cosmo says.

If sleeping Dylan
was willing to oblige, who was I to refuse him?

That’s when his
hand started to move.

Fuck me
. My eyes popped
open as I slightly bent my head forward in order to watch the progression of
his hand, that was on my breast only a moment ago and now moving toward my
panties.

That could change
everything.

Humping his leg was
one thing, actual hands on, that was something completely different. I
considered pushing his hand away as I watched
its
decent with my lust filled eyes. But I was too far gone now, right? I was so
close, and all I needed was that one last push, that touch that will drive me
over the edge. That’s just in my head though, I’d never actually had one to
know what it took to get there. But I felt something.

I was practically
panting as his fingers ever so slowly dip below the waistband of my panties,
just a few more inches. In the meantime, Dylan was still making steady strokes
against my thigh, the movement of his hips becoming aggressive and desperate. I
knew how he felt, or should feel if he was awake. That urge just cling to
whatever force was driving us toward blissful release was so strong I could
hardly imagine how I lived without it for so long.

Dylan’s hand didn’t
move any further south but his thigh moved again, as did mine and that’s all it
took for me.