How the Light Gets In (Cracks Duet #2)(34)
The strained needfulness in his voice caused the spot between my thighs to ache. My hand moved lower. I slipped it under the hem of my knickers and between the folds of my sex. I was wet, so wet, and all from a small amount of time on the phone with Dylan. I must’ve made some sort of noise, because he emitted a low, rumbling groan.
“What are you doing?”
“Just keep talking.”
“Fucking hell, Ev.”
I circled my finger around my clit, my hips arching instinctively. My breathing grew heavy as I felt an orgasm build. Dylan had this magic that was all his own; he could make me come just from talking.
“Remember when I used to go down on you in your bedroom before school? I could taste you on my mouth all day afterwards,” he said, and it drove me higher.
“And that time we made love in the storage cupboard at the back of the chemistry lab? It’s still the best sex I’ve ever had.”
“You pushed me up against the cupboard,” I said past a moan, remembering. “I thought someone would walk in.”
“But they didn’t. You came while I was still inside you. It felt incredible.”
“God . . . Dylan . . .”
“It was so hard to concentrate during lessons, when I knew you were just a few rooms away.”
“You caught me between classes often enough,” I said, panting.
“Couldn’t help it. I’d spend half of my physics lab daydreaming about your body, how you felt when I was inside you. Some days . . . I just couldn’t wait until school ended. And that first time you sucked my cock, Christ, Ev . . .”
“Oh, God, Dylan, I’m gonna . . .”
I was silent when my orgasm hit. It was swift and intense. I clenched my thighs, swallowing as it subsided.
“Jesus,” he muttered down the line. “Do you know how hard I am right now?”
As soon as the pleasure petered out, I was filled with a sense of embarrassment, which was ridiculous given what we did last night.
“Dylan, I—”
“No. Don’t you dare, Ev. There’s no shyness between us, okay?”
My reply was a whisper, “Okay.”
“You feel good?”
I flushed. “Yeah.”
“Good. Maybe tomorrow you’ll let me make you feel good in person.”
I couldn’t help my sigh. When we hung up I flopped back in bed, wondering how on earth I was going to get through an entire shift after having phone sex with Dylan, his husky, beguiling voice replaying my head.
The next day, I managed to convince Yvonne to lend me her red dress to wear to the charity event. I was a little bigger than she was, but it still fit me okay. The contoured design meant it clung to every curve. I understood why she was always so hesitant to wear it, because although it went to just below the knee, it still left very little to the imagination.
“Look at you,” she crooned when I stepped out of my bedroom. “Jessica Rabbit.”
I smirked and waved a hand at her. “Oh shush.” Then conspiratorially. “But tell me more.”
“You look gorgeous. Dylan’s going to lose his mind. I can’t believe you two are going on a date. I feel giddy.”
“Well, you can set your giddy pants aside for now. Yes, I’m his date, but it’s not a date.”
Yvonne scrunched her brows. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It does in my head.”
The door buzzed, so I grabbed my coat and bag. I didn’t want Yvonne making any more of a song and dance, so I headed downstairs to meet Dylan instead of inviting him up. He stood in the lobby wearing a tux. A TUX. My libido just about died went to heaven.
RIP.
My long coat was buttoned all the way up. I wasn’t ready to show him the dress yet, even though he’d already seen it on Yvonne. It was just so . . . boobsy. And while my aunt was a B-cup, I was a D. Two letters made a world of difference.
Dylan’s brow arched slightly. He could tell I was hiding something. “What’s up with you? Nervous?”
“It’s boobsy,” I blurted and he let out a confused laugh.
“Pardon?”
“My dress. It shows a lot of—”
“Décolletage?”
“Yes.” Damn, that was a good word. Way better than boobsy.
His lips curved as he stepped closer. “Okay, now I have to see.”
I held a hand out. “Not until we get to the event.”
He reached for me and clasped my shoulders in his palms. “Why not now?”
I shot him an arch look. “Because if I do we won’t make it to the event.”
“No?”
I stepped by him and moved toward the door, where a town car idled just outside. “No. You’ll get all handsy with my boobsys.”
Dylan let out a bark of a laugh. “God, you’re so weird.”
His tone said God, I adore you, which was why a rosy blush coloured my cheeks. He stepped ahead of me and opened the door to the waiting car. I slid inside, feeling like an imposter but also loving the opulence. I was one of those people who were all, spa days are for spoiled housewives. But then as soon as someone said they’re paying, I was already in a bathrobe, cucumber slices on each eye, while a lady dressed in white gave me a pedicure.