Waiting for You (22 page)

“No.” He pulled the
cherry sucker between his lips and then out smacking his lips together. “I’m
not much of a painted nails kind of guy.” Putting the sucker back in his mouth,
he moved it to his cheek and talked with it still in his mouth. I watched
carefully. “Are you going to start wearing black lipstick too and piercing
those
circle
things in your ears?”

“Circle things? You
mean earrings?”

That remark earned
me a glare. “No, I mean those earrings with the big holes in them, like Haven
wore.”

“Oh,
those.”
I felt somewhat stupid for not knowing what he was talking about. “No.”

Dylan gave a nod,
his eyes back on the road.

“So you never slept
with Haven.” I wanted to slap my hand over my mouth at my own question but I
really wanted to know who he’d slept with. For some reason I must have thought
that was a good icebreaker.
Stupid.

He blinked, slowly,
and then looked over at me, his head lulled, eyes arched. “No, I didn’t have
sex with Haven.”

“Who?”

“You seriously want
to know?”

Of course I did. I was
the typical eighteen-year-old girl right then and wanted to know everyone he’d
been with so I could compare myself to them.

The problem was
that Dylan knew that.

“Fine, you want to
know I’ll tell you,” he said shifting his weight to lean closer to me, his arm
thrown over the back of the seat as we headed to Dodge City. “Sarah, Lindsey,
Jessie, and the other two…I don’t know…just girls.” His expression changed
slightly, a practiced triviality settled.

“So
five?”

“Yeah.”

“And none were
virgins?”

“No,” he laughed
lightly, “definitely not virgins,”

Putting my nail
polish away, I scooted closer tangling my hand in his hair, lightly scraping
against his scalp and I felt his right hand find my left thigh, snaking its way
underneath the edge of my shorts to caress the skin. It was one of his
signature moves that I was becoming accustomed to when we were in the car. He
liked touching skin, my skin. I loved it when he held me this way. The way he
gripped me felt so possessive and protective and something I never knew I
wanted, or needed, until I got in his GTO.

Here’s where those
hormones came in. I wanted more of that tingling all over feeling that he was
so good at giving me.

“Have you ever
went
down on any of them?” I was getting bolder by the
moment and loved it.

Dylan laughed
lightly shaking us both. His head tipped to kiss the side of my face. “Yes,”

“Is there anything
you haven’t done?”

Dylan was quiet
again, his breathing slightly heavier than before. “I’ve never finished here
before.” His right hand that had moved to my thigh, raised to touch my lips
lightly, his voice grating and strong as his rushed though me. His fingers
lingered there for a moment, calloused roughness scraping against soft.

I tugged at the
collar of his flannel shirt so that I could kiss the divot between his
collarbones as the idea of Dylan in my mouth overwhelmed me. I’d never done
anything like that before but I was sure that I wouldn’t have a problem with
it.

Dylan moaned
quietly and his head dropped to the back of the seat again. “You really know
how to get me going, don’t you?”

I grinned and
scooted closer, breathing heavy. There was some sound of vague disappoint, but
he was too far gone to make any proper complaint.

My guess was that
all of Dylan’s we-can’t-have-sex proclamations were wavering slightly.

My fingers trailed
down his shirt and gripped at his belt. “How about you do finish?”

Dylan’s head shot
up, eyes wide as he took in my new position, kneeling, hands pulling at his
belt in the front seat of his GTO.

“Bailey.” He
squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth as I slowly undid his zipper. “I
didn’t say that so you would do―”

“Dylan,” I cut him
off sharply. “If you tell me I don’t have to do what I’m very obviously about
to do, I will actually stop.”

“Okay, then,” he
smirked.  “Just ignore me.”

So I did and
finished unzipping his shorts. It wasn’t that easy, I heard a few honks along
the way since my ass was in the air and it was obvious what I was doing. I
don’t think Dylan cared about any of that.

Soon his hands were
fisting in my hair and I was internally praising myself for the sounds he was
making. He was obviously trying to restrain himself. Though I had never done
this before, YouTube was very informational, and Dylan’s car was filled with
quiet moans and the chanting of my name. His hips began lifting from the seat
to meet my mouth and I couldn’t hold back my own moan. I could smell that
natural oak heady smell he had, the soft sensitive skin, it was just as
enjoyable for me as it was for him. Well, maybe not that much but I did enjoy
it. I only wished I could have seen his face.

Having never done
it before, I was trying to concentrate on technique and not making a fool of
myself and he seemed to enjoy it too. It was similar to sucking on a sucker, if
I had to compare it.

He made a lot of
noises, soft grunts, and groans, with on hand tangled in my hair guiding me or
encouraging. It felt like support and I needed it.

It wasn’t long and
Dylan’s hips shuddered and I glanced up out of the corner of my eye to see him
biting his fist to keep from crying out but a little grunt escaped him when I
felt his legs tense and a warm liquid seeping into my mouth and hardened in my
mouth.

I resisted the urge
to gag, not that I found it repulsive or anything but it was different from
what I thought it would be.

“Jesus, I was doing
one ten…” I felt his leg rise to ease off the gas trying to adjust
himself
. “Thank god there weren’t any cops around here.”

I sat back on my
heels, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as delicately as I could. With
his shorts still unbuttoned, Dylan’s head fell forward into the steering wheel,
eyes closed for a moment, and his arms hung limply over the wheel, drifting
from the right lane to the left and back again on purpose.

As he used his knee
to balance the steering wheel, he got himself situated.

Looking at his
flushed cheeks, I was quite proud of myself that there wasn’t a hint of tension
anywhere in his body. I snickered a bit at the sated expression on his face and
Dylan opened one eye to look at me.

“Something funny,
there, brown eyes?”

I shook my head,
smirking.
“Nope.”

He reached for my
hand and pulled me back up next to him, settling into a comfortable speed that
wouldn’t get us pulled over; dropping his head to my shoulder once I was there.
“
Mmm
,” he sighed. “Thank you.”

I was about to say
something in reply when a log truck that had been keeping pace with us honked.
We both glanced to the right to see the guy hanging his arm out his window.
Since my window was down, we heard exactly what he was saying. “Fuck yeah
honey! Suck mine next!”

Dylan was not
amused by that. He leaned over the top of me, one hand on the wheel and the
other giving a gesture to the trucker. “Suck this asshole!”

The driver of the
truck wasn’t exactly thrilled with Dylan and shouted back, “Pull over and I
will motherfucker!”

Dylan and I both
looked at each other and his speed slowed. “As much as I want to kick this
guy’s ass, I don’t have the energy and he looks like he could kick mine without
trying.”

I gave him a nod
wrinkling my nose with a giggle.
“Probably a good idea.”

Thankfully, the
truck driver wasn’t looking for a fight, leaving us alone.

The drive from
Wichita to Dodge City offered nothing but flat land, occasionally a dead animal
or two and the occasional trucker honking. It might have had something to do
with my legs hanging out the window but I liked the breeze it offered. I’d lay
with my butt against the door, my back flat against the seat, my head in
Dylan’s lap and my legs out the window.

Turning up the
music, the sounds of Groove Armada hummed through the car. The wind, the cow
shit smell, and the music was relaxing but Dylan’s soft touches were the
calming part. He’d start by running his fingertips over my collarbone, then the
side of my neck, behind my ear, and then he would run his fingers through my
hair. All the while, I stared out the side window watching cars and clouds pass
through my toes.

At some point
during the song, Dylan’s hand rested on my chest over my heart, his fingers
tapping to the beat as he sang along. My favorite part was when he would hum
and his voice would adapt that gritty rasp he had that reminded me of that moan
he did on stage. 

Taking his hand
from my chest, I rested it in both of mine exploring every detail behind the
talent these hands held. Long fingers, muscular palms with calloused edges, he
held a lot in these hands, including my heart now.

I wondered what he
would do with it, as no one else had ever held it before.

“
Wanna
take a detour?” Dylan whispered bringing my hand that
was still tucked in his to his lips kissing my knuckles.

“Sure.” I looked up
at him and he smiled down at me and winked.

Clouds had rolled
in, the Kansas sky peppered with blue and gray undertones as a light mist of
rain fell highlighting the overgrown weeds that lined a country road.

The rain picked up
but we kept the windows down as the breeze and smell of fresh rain was exactly
what we wanted on that red dirt road. When we got to the lake, the sun could
just barely be seen through the clouds. Dylan used his flannel to shield the
camera so I could get a few good shots in. Sighing, I peeked at them; Dylan
glanced over my shoulder, his chin rested against me.

His lips at my ear,
he kissed me once before reaching inside the car to turn up the stereo when a
song came on that he liked.

A moment later,
with the rain still falling, we were laying on the hood of his car. “Drew and I
used to
lay
in the grass and see how long we could keep
our eyes open.”

“Who would win?”

“We never found
out,” he laughed lightly. “We always gave in and enjoyed the feeling of the
rain on our face when we closed our eyes. We could imagine we were anywhere but
where we were, for a moment.”

Right now, we could
be anywhere but here, but why would I want that. “I like where I’m at.”

Dylan inhaled a
deep breath. “Me too…”

A cool breeze past,
a mist of rain coated my face and I smiled. I completely understood why he
would have done this as a child. I used to sit at my window when it would rain
and photograph the water as it surged down the drain.

Dylan didn’t care
that we were
laying
on the hood of his car or that it
was raining. He was in the moment, something he was teaching me to do and
enjoying the greater importance than some meaningless materialism, something my
childhood had lacked greatly. Maybe there’s something to that way of thinking.
I smiled at the thought. The thought that creeps in me knowing Dylan is having
an effect on me more than just sexually.

Dylan rolled to his
side, looking down at me.
“You cold?”

“Nope.”

He nodded,
thoughtful for a moment, drops of water beaded under his chin. In the distance,
but closer than I would have liked, thunder cracked lighting the sky behind us.
Dylan looked around and then winked. “You scared?”

“A
little.”
I admitted. “We are in tornado country.”

“Good.” He licked
his lips and shook water from his eyes. His hand rose to wipe drops that formed
on my nose. “It means you’re doing something wrong the right way.”

“Your logic is
sometimes scary.”

He gave me a
playful nod. “My logic is what got you here, with me, in the rain, on the hood
of my car.” Slowly he leaned forward, hovering over me, and went in as if he
was going to kiss me but stopped just as his lips were at mine, barely
touching, his breath blew across my face as he spoke. “Dance with me…in the
rain.”

“Here?”

“Yes.” He pulled
back, his eyes sparkling as the rain sprinkled drops on his lashes as he gave a
lazy nod. “Here”

Sitting up on my
elbows, I slid my feet up the hood so my knees were bent, my heels touching my
butt.

Dylan stood on the
hood, the metal protested with a thump at his weight. He reached his hand out
lifting me up. “Dance with me.”

“Are you sure?
It’ll dent the hood.”

“Who gives a shit?”
he gestured to the left side of the car. “It’s smashed already.”

“I don’t want to
make it worse.”