Knight and Day

Chapter Eleven

“So how are we gonna play this thing, English?”

Kara accepted the steaming coffee mug Dylan held out and cradled it between her palms, still naked beneath the sheets of his ridiculously comfortable bed after a scant few hours of sleep. She leaned her head back against the padded headboard.

“Straight down the line,” she said.

“I don’t want to put you in a compromising position with Sophie and Lucien.”

She shook her head. “You won’t. They knew I was coming here last night.”

“You told them?” He looked up from stepping out of his jeans, surprise in his clear green eyes.

“Of course.” Kara shrugged. “Why not? I’m a big girl, they trust me to make my own decisions.”

She didn’t go into the fact that she and Sophie had sat down for a good hour yesterday evening talking it through, debating whether Kara was really ready to let someone close again after Richard’s betrayal. Sophie and Lucien had scraped her up off the floor last summer and pieced her back together, a slightly more complicated puzzle than she’d been beforehand. She frowned a little, not appreciating thoughts of Richard intruding on her first Sunday morning wake-up with another man since their split.

Placing her coffee down, she let the sheet fall to her waist.

“Breakfast?” She smiled sweetly and raised her eyebrows.

Appreciation flared in Dylan's eyes as he sat down on the side of the bed. He tugged the sheet away, revealing her naked body to his greedy gaze.

“The full English, sir?” she said, letting him look his fill.

He moved closer to stroke her breasts. “You have a smart mouth.”

“Do you like it?”

He snaked his tongue along her bottom lip. “I like it plenty.” His hands tracked over her rib cage and settled on her hips. “I like all of you plenty.”

His easy Californian accent softened his sensual words so that Kara found herself instinctively running her hands over the breadth of his shoulders, enjoying his body. “You’re not so bad yourself, Sailor.”

“In the interests of honesty, I feel I should tell you that I don’t actually own this boat, and I’ve never sailed in my life.”

Kara stroked her fingertips over his collarbones, unsure if she was relieved or disappointed that the Love Tug wasn’t a direct reflection of Dylan’s tastes.

“I’m still going to call you Sailor.”

“Good. I like the way you say it.”

“Sailor,” she said, deliberately husky, letting her fingers trail down the definition of his stomach, enjoying the way his cock reacted with interest.

“Did you offer me breakfast?” he said, sliding his hand between her legs. “Because I’ve decided what I want.”

“Hmm. What might that be?”

He opened her with his fingers, dropping his other hand down to explore her exposed sex.

“You.” He kissed her shoulder. “This.” He concentrated his attention on her clitoris, and she parted her legs wider for him. “Now.”

Dylan bent over her body and placed butterfly trails of kisses over her inner thighs, then lay down on his side, rolling her onto hers too. He rested his head on her inner thigh when she lifted her knee, and gave a small sigh of appreciation when she mirrored the position, inverted between his thighs.

“I’m hungry too,” she murmured, wrapping her arm over his hip, holding him close and loving the sight of his cock so close to her mouth. He was the most tempting breakfast she’d ever had before her.

He kept her waiting, letting her expectations heighten as he stroked the curves of her bottom and thighs, his lips everywhere but where she really wanted them to be. She repaid him in kind, massaging the firm cheeks of his ass, letting his cock brush her throat when she leaned in to lick the lines where his torso met his thigh.

And then he paused, splaying her sex wide with the fingertips of both his hands. Kara held her breath, her teeth grazing his inner thigh, waiting. He made her wait longer still, his fingertips massaging tiny circles where they pressed into her flesh.

“I’m not gonna rush this, English. I want you to remember it forever.”

Was it possible to come just from being looked at, from anticipation and longing to be touched? Kara could feel Dylan’s gaze heavy between her legs, and she thrilled at the heady, hard evidence of his arousal in front of her eyes. She cupped his balls, needing to touch him almost more than she needed him to touch her, gratified by the catch in his heated breath over her clitoris. She moaned out loud with giddy relief when his fingers finally slid over her, moaned louder still when the warmth of his open mouth lowered over her sex, his tongue and his fingers working his own unique brand of leisurely, sensual magic.

He took his time, and she wanted him to stay there forever.

Kara’s hands explored his hardness, and she closed her eyes with pleasure when she took him into her mouth. Dylan’s shuddering sigh of satisfaction vibrated from his tongue onto her clitoris, and she slid him in deeper as he screwed two fingers inside her.

They lay body to body, lost in the intimacy of giving and receiving. Of building and backing off, only to build again, a little higher each time. Kara’s arm over his hip held him close, her fingers sliding over his butt cheeks, between them, pressing against the tightness there as the orgasm she’d tried to hold back flooded through her body like a tsunami. Surrendered. Euphoric. He clamped her against him, thrusting his cock into her mouth as she came against his relentless tongue. She read his fraught movements, knowing he was going to come, wanting to taste him when he did. He was granite-smooth and swollen in her mouth, and she gave him everything. Sliding her hands. Swirling her tongue. Tight, hot suction.

He wanted her to remember this forever.

She wanted him to never forget how she made him feel.

When she pressed her finger deeper between the firm cheeks of his ass, his hips jerked violently and his arm clamped her to him. He was gasping. Raw and laid bare, coming in her mouth and in her arms, his face pressed hard into her inner thigh.

Afterwards, Dylan twisted around and gathered Kara against him, his hand moving warm and languid over her breasts as their heartbeats slowed.

He reached up and traced his finger over the richly decorated ceiling, from planet earth across to the silver of the moon.

“To the moon and back, English.”