Page 28 of Perfect Storm

“Oh hush,” Sandy lets me go and heads to her son-in-law. She gives him a little dig to his stomach, but she is grinning, and he laughs at her. “I’ll have you know he’s a pretty decent cowboy.”

Everyone laughs at that, then people disperse to find their rooms. There is no staff here to take our stuff, no reception desk. Is this a hotel or not? There is a room off to the side which looksless like a hotel, more like someone’s living room. Comfortable, I guess, is more the word I’m looking for. It isn’t fancy, it looks like the kind of room whoever lives here hangs out in watching TV.

I go to grab my bag, but Dylan has it already and shoos me with a tip of his head. We follow Nash and Adrestia to our rooms, or what should have been Jack’s room. It has his name on the door. I smile at the personal touch.

Inside, again my breath is stolen. I’ve lived in apartments all my life. First the terrifying block where I was raised, then the college dorms. Now, my little apartment which is convenient for the hospital. If I move in with Dylan, which he keeps asking, it will be to a gorgeous place, but still an apartment in a high rise building.

A brown sofa sits underneath the window, the perfect viewing spot to sit and watch the horses. The bed is enormous, enough to fit four people. A mountain of pillows is placed near the headboard. There is a cushioned ottoman at the end of the bed, with towels folded on it.

Two rustic bureaus and a matching wardrobe finish out the room. On top of one bureau is a bottle of champagne, two glasses and a basket of fruit.

“Fuck me,” Dylan mutters as he drops our bag and looks around. “This is…”

“Beautiful,” I fill in for him. “Like a dream.”

He turns to me, then comes over and picks me up, making me squeal. He walks us to the bed and sits down, settling me so I straddle his legs.

“We never get time like this,” he says, nuzzling my throat with his nose. “I’m going to make the most of it.”

It makes me feel guilty. I work long, hard hours, and sometimes when we are together, I can fall asleep. It will be even harder when he is on tour.

He kisses me and I loop my arms around his neck. But he pushes them back so he can take off my coat, which he folds up and sets down beside us. I can't help but grin. I'm surprised he didn't pause to go hang it up.

Dylan takes off my hoodie and t-shirt, then unhooks my bra setting it all on my coat. I will never tire of seeing his huge hands on my small body. Dylan makes no complaints about how dainty I am. In fact, he always shows me how much he loves it. He can pick me up and move me around to his heart’s content. And I love it.

I help him take off his jacket and t-shirt and press my skin against his warm body. He sighs, brushing my hair back, then kisses me.

No one has ever kissed me the way Dylan does. His tongue tangles with mine, tasting me, never hurried or frenzied, even when he is desperate with need.

Cupping my ass, he stands up and walks to a door. He tries the handle and laughs in relief when it is a bathroom. Where the bedroom was rustic and cozy, the bathroom is modern and sleek.

I blush as he sets me on the counter, his hands going into the back of my pants and tugging them down. I lift my ass to help.

His eyes roam over me as he bares me to him, and I flush a little more. He smiles, running his finger over my eyebrow, down my nose, and across my lips.

He leaves me to start the shower and drops his own pants and underwear. I wait as he turns back to me, stroking his hand up and down his incredibly hard cock.

I lick my lips and he growls, picking me up and walking us into the now steaming shower. Until I met him, most of my sexual experiences were in a bed, on my back.

Usually, it was hurried in the dorm room. Or at the hospital in one of the off duty rooms. It went on often, like a real soap opera.Always hurried, then straight to sleep. One or the other partner leaving to go back on duty.

Dylan enters me slowly, like he always does. Despite being small, I’ve never had trouble taking him, but he still likes to make sure he eases in. The large slate tiles of the shower are cold against my back, a stark contrast to the heat of his body flush against me.

He leaves one hand on my ass, the other he uses to cradle the back of my head to prevent me from banging it. He’s the most considerate man I’ve ever met, and I love him for it, though I have encouraged him to rough it up a bit.

He’s good at that too.

Dylan always knows what I want and right now, nice, leisurely sex is what I crave. He kisses me as he works my body. His hips and thighs hold me as he squeezes my breast until I cry out. He lets go a little then, thrusting harder until he groans his own release.

After, he lowers me and cleans me up. For a long while, having someone take care of me was foreign.

From a very young age, I’d been taking care of myself, so it was strange to relinquish that control. But now, it is the best part of sex for me. Or one of them anyway.

He dries me off and we go back into the bedroom.

“It’s only four. We have two hours.”

He takes me to the bed, pulls the covers back and deposits me on the luxurious sheets. After closing the thick curtains, the room is dark. He edges me over and gets in, then snuggles into me, wiggling me around until my back is to his chest. Cupping one of my breasts, he settles his head down beside mine.

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