“Trust is a strange thing. Sometimes we give it even though it hasn’t been earned, because something in our gut tells us to,” Lucien said, as the man swung the crop down on the woman’s cheeks again. “She’s putting her trust him, even though she probably doesn’t even know his name.” He went on, “And I’m trusting you with my club and my friend, even though I’m well aware that I don’t even know your name.”
Dylan nodded. That didn’t surprise him. Lucien was way too acute not to have looked into Dylan Day’s background. He’d have done the same himself in the other man’s shoes.
“And I don’t need to know it,” Lucien said, turning abruptly from the door and walking towards the stairs at the far end of the corridor. “But whatever trouble you’re in obviously has you running scared. I’ve been that man, Dylan. It’s tiring, isn’t it?”
Dylan leaned his back against the wall at the top of the quiet stairwell.
“Fucking exhausting.”
Lucien looked away for a few seconds and shook his head, then looked back again. “Can I help?”
Dylan huffed softly. “I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know, man, but no. No one can.” He pushed his hands through his hair. “And just so you know, my troubles are my own, and hand on heart, they will not and cannot follow me here. Your trust is not misplaced.”
He stood with his hand outspread on his chest, feeling his heart beating too fast for comfort. He wouldn’t lie, but the truth wouldn’t come out either. It had no place here, and Lucien’s opinion of him would inevitably change. Right now it meant a lot to count him as a friend.
They both turned at the sound of footsteps and found Kara coming up the staircase.
“Hey Sailor. I’m on break. Keep me company?”
Lucien placed his hand on Dylan’s shoulder for the briefest of seconds, then left him to Kara’s ministrations.
“What was that all about?” Kara asked, gazing after Lucien.
“Boy stuff.”
Kara arched her eyebrows with a grin. “Boy stuff, huh? Dylan and Lucien, sitting in a tree...”
Dylan dropped his hands to Kara’s waist. “The way you look in this outfit?” He ran his palms appreciatively over her velvet-clad hips and pulled her against him. “Not a chance.”
Kara wound her arms around his neck. “I’ve got ten minutes,” she murmured, kissing the golden hollow at the base of his neck and sliding her hand down over his crotch. “Take me somewhere private and find out what’s underneath this dress?”
Dylan didn’t need any further encouragement. He felt in his back pocket for his keys as he tugged her down the stairs. “In here.” He flicked through the keys to the right one and slid it into the lock, not easy with Kara already wrapped around him, sliding her hands inside his shirt.
In the darkness, he reached for her.
“Tell me this isn’t the broom cupboard,” she whispered, her nimble fingers already unbuckling his belt.
“It’s the broom cupboard.” Dylan rucked Kara’s dress up her thighs, running his hands over her stocking tops.
“You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”
“You betcha,” he muttered. “I wish I could see you. Stockings make me horny.”
Kara freed his cock into her waiting hands. “I can tell.”
“Fuck… English,” he groaned. “You’re pretty good at that.”
“I know.”
Dylan pulled Kara’s lace knickers to the side and backed her against the wall. It was her turn to groan. “You’re pretty good at that.”
“I know,” he said, exploring inside her. “I’ve been thinking about you all night.” He lifted her and pinned her against the wall with his body. “Thinking about fucking you.”
“So do me.”
“Do me?” Dylan reached into his back pocket for a condom and sheathed himself. “You sound like a teenager,” he murmured, thrusting his cock deep into her, making her cry out.
“It was your idea to screw in a cupboard,” she panted, dragging his mouth onto hers.
“It was a good idea,” he said, fucking her hard, loving the sounds she made and the way she wrapped her leg around his ass to clamp him close.
“The best,” she said, her voice trembling when he reached down and fingered her slick clitoris. She was going to come, he knew it and she knew it, and he put his hand over her mouth to muffle her yells. He held her up with the weight of his body, his hips pumping hard as he let go of his control.
“The best,” he repeated, lowering her slowly back down to her feet. He kissed her slowly, smoothing her dress back into place regretfully as she stroked his hair. “The best, English.”
Chapter Nineteen
“I’m bushed.” Kara fished around in her bag for the keys to the Mustang as she walked back to the car with Dylan at the end of the night.
He held out his hand. “Let me drive.”
She handed them over willingly and flopped into the passenger seat.
“Remember to drive on the right.”
“We drive on the right in the States,” he said. “It’s only you guys who do it the wrong way.”
“The right way,” she objected automatically, closing her eyes and enjoying the sensation of being taken care of.
Dylan threw his arm over the back of her seat and glanced over his shoulder as he reversed. “You have good taste in cars.”
“Mmm. I seem to have a thing for all things American at the moment.”
“You have a thing for me, English?” Delicious, sexy humour threaded its way through his drawl.
“Hmm,” Kara said. “You. Mustangs.” She yawned. “You.”
“You said me already.”
“Like New York,” she muttered, half asleep. “So good I said you twice.”
When she opened her eyes again, she was in Dylan’s arms being carried along the pathway at the edge of the beach.
“I did not go to sleep,” she said, nuzzling her face into his neck to get closer to the scent of him.
“Of course not,” he said. Then added, deadpan, “But you were snoring.”
She opened her eyes wide. “I so was not.”
“You’ve turned into that teenager again,” he said, kissing her softly as they approached the boat. He set her on her feet and held her hand as she stepped aboard.
“Coffee?” she asked as he unlocked the door.
Dylan moved in close behind her in the small kitchen and kissed her shoulder.
“You sure you don’t want to go straight to bed?”
“You’ve woken me up now. Let’s have coffee first,” she said, flicking the gas on beneath the kettle. He shrugged assent and turned on the radio, the station playing slow, chill-out tracks designed to lull the island’s clubbers to sleep.
Dylan carried their mugs down into the living area a couple of minutes later and sat down on the lurid couch that ran around the edge. Kara dropped next to him, her head on his shoulder and her feet propped on his knees.
“So. First night done,” she said, accepting her mug from Dylan.
He settled back, his own mug in his hand. “It sure had some highlights.”
Kara touched her mug against his with a lazy smile. “To Gateway Ibiza, and all who screw in her broom cupboard.”
They fell silent, both tired and still coming down from the high of the successful launch. Dylan looked out over the dark, star-studded skies. Dawn was still a couple of hours away.
I love this time of morning," he said quietly, his eyes on a lone fisherman in the distance loading nets into his vessel. "My brother Billy used to night fish."
Kara stilled, surprised by his words. It was the first time he’d volunteered any personal information.