Just a Taste Part 17

Ch 17: Trust

Isabella

December 21st, 2024- Woodside Motel- 7:44 AM

Tears formed in my eyes. My lips quivered, my hands trembled, hell, my entire body vibrated with emotion as Dylan finished his story.

I felt like there was more to him than what I saw, but I didn't expect this!

"So, what do you think?" Dylan asked, squeezing my knee.

God, how do I answer that? He told me a horrific tale of pain, grief, survival, and emotional darkness. All of which he endured to protect his sister until he couldn't anymore.

Poor Dylan...

"Um, well‌," I stammered, touching his hand. "I think circumstances beyond your control placed you and Everly in a dangerous situation." Dylan's eyes never left mine as I continued. "The two of you fought and survived together, even if it was hard."

"I couldn't save her, Isabella." Dylan whispered solemnly, kissing my hand. "I replayed it over and over in my head, but I couldn't find a scenario where she lived through it. Not with those men hunting us from the shadows."

"Dylan," I murmured, stroking his hair. "It wasn't your fault. Maybe it feels that way because of how things happened, but sometimes, shit just happens."

He smiled, and a sliver of sadness disappeared. "I guess so. I still miss her though."

"Of course. She's your sister!" I giggled, kissing his forehead.

Dylan's eyebrows furrowed as he questioned, "Do you still trust me? Knowing that I murdered people, then eventually consumed their flesh?"

Whew, that's a tough question!

Yes, Dylan saved me several times and hadn't hurt me yet, but is that enough?

I'm not discounting his good deeds; however, he belongs to a world that's far worse.

One that Daddy and Grandpa have dominion over.

That being said, I can't go back to my old life. Not while carrying the terrible secrets that I learned.

Clearing my throat, I answered from my heart. "I'm scared, Dylan, but I do trust you. Please keep me safe."

He kissed my lips softly. "I will. I promise."

A few hours passed in relative peace. I'm showering while Dylan tinkered with his radio. It got banged up earlier. Now it won't turn on.

Carefully, I'm able to wash most of my body. Except my hair is an absolute mess. Never in my life has it matted!

Rinsing the soap off, I glanced at the various hair products that Margaret brought over and sighed

God, this is going to suck!

"Um, Dylan?" I called to him, turning off the water.

He sauntered into the bathroom with a smile. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Are you good at doing hair?" I asked, gesturing to my bird's nest. "This is too much for me."

"I'll handle it," he muttered, trailing his fingers down my arm. "Lean over the tub."

Nervously, I dropped to my knees and leaned my head over the tub. My bare backside was completely visible.

Dylan moved behind me; his hands roaming up and down my curves. I shivered.

"I'll wet it first, then work the conditioner through it," he rasped, cupping the side of my breast. "That will work out the kinks."

My thighs pressed together. Jeez, we're not doing anything, calm down!

We both know you want him.

I do, but now's not the time!

Really? He wants your undying trust. Sex is the ultimate test of it! Why not prove your loyalty and soothe your ache with one gesture?

Dammit, she's right. I've wanted Dylan for a while, and he's already pleasured me before, so what could go wrong?

Hot water running down my neck broke my train of thought. I jerked slightly.

"Sorry," Dylan murmured, moving my hair under the steaming spray. "I should've warned you."

"I-it's okay." I mumbled, leaning forward to allow him better access. "I trust whatever you're doing."

Chuckling, Dylan stood up and rummaged around the sink. "Good to know."

He returned to my back, rubbing my shoulders. "Relax."

Exhaling slowly, I loosened my grip on the tub and arched my back.

Suddenly, I felt a cold, creamy substance on my neck. Then Dylan's hands massaged it deeply into my hair. A soft moan escaped ‌my lips.

Meticulously, his fingers worked through the matted, clumpy mass with ease. Occasionally, he poked a thin comb through a knot and removed it without causing me pain.

Fuck, he's good at this. Not even the hair stylist that Daddy hired for my Sweet Sixteen was this attentive or gentle.

"There we go," Dylan whispered, rinsing my hair. "All better now."

As he wrung my wet locks out, I confessed, "No, it's not."

"What'd you mean? Are you hurt?" Dylan inquired, turning me over.

I blushed furiously. Jesus, here we go. "No, ‌um,"

He cocked his head in confusion.

"Dylan, I want you." I panted, touching his lips. "Right now."

Without blinking, our lips crashed together. Similar to waves breaking against a rocky shoreline. Blending smooth, cooling waters with rough landscapes.

Dylan removed his shirt and jeans expertly while invading my throat with his eager tongue.

My body vibrated with anticipation as my hands roamed Dylan's sculpted body. I couldn't stop touching him if I tried. It was almost as if I had developed an addiction to the feeling of his skin. The way it rippled when he groaned, twisted around, or moved was intoxicating.

His hands cupped my breasts. Massaging them, pinching the nipples while he moved his mouth down my neck. I gasped when I felt his hot breath travelling further down.

"Bend over the tub," Dylan commanded breathlessly. "You'll be more comfortable."

Instantly, I obeyed him. Full of desire, I quivered for his touch. I didn't want to waste anymore time. My body needed him more than it needed air to breathe, or blood to circulate through it.

Dylan parted my legs and growled. "Such a pretty pussy, darling." He tapped my ass. "Arch your back and bring your ass up more."

"Yes, sir," I purred, getting into position.

His hand collided with my cheek so hard that it echoed in the bathroom.

"What'd you call me?" he rasped, licking my inner thigh.

"Sir?" I whined, biting my bottom lip.

"Say it again." he ordered, sliding his tongue along my drenched lips. Each stroke sent a jolt of pleasure through my body.

Twitching, I begged, "Please sir, fuck me with your tongue!"

Dylan groaned deeply before invading my pussy with his thick, warm tongue. Pushing in an out rapidly as if he's fucking me with rough intentions. Curling upward; pressing deliciously hot pressure on my g-spot.

Overwhelmed with pleasure, I shook with such intensity that I almost fell over. Thankfully Dylan held me in place with his firm hands while he thoroughly devoured my essence.

"Fuck!" I screamed, shivering as the orgasm took control of my movements.

My vision blurred as I face-planted in the tub.

"Who do you belong to?" Dylan rumbled, replacing his tongue with two fingers.

"You..." I whimpered, moving my hips in sync with his fingers.

His hand slapped my other cheek. "Say it again."

"You, you, I belong to you Dylan!" I moaned, succumbing to another mind-blowing orgasm.

Then, I felt something hot and stiff move between my legs. Oh my, is that Dylan's...?

Fisting my hair, he roared, "Damn right you do!" before impaling my precious treasure with his throbbing cock.

A yelp escaped my lips as he nestled deep inside. It felt as if I were being ripped open by a steaming lead pipe coated in sin. So help me God, it's incredible. Primal and raw, like a couple of animals giving into their desires.

"Dylan," I gasped, our bodies rocking in tandem. "Oh, God..."

"Shh, darling," Dylan grunted, burying his nose in the crook of my neck. "Just experience this with me."

His fingers circled my clit while he drove himself deeper inside. Every ounce of breath left my lungs; stars blurred my vision as Dylan and I got lost in each other.

Neither of us spoke again. We used our voices for other purposes. The room echoed with the moist clashing of our bodies, heavy breathing, and grunts of pleasure.

I crumbled first, gloriously falling over the edge into a wonderful chasm of dual orgasms.

During the aftershocks, Dylan pulled out and rolled me over.

"Open wide, darling," he chuckled, pumping his erect cock.

Blinking, I looked up at his magical dick. Licking my lips. My cheeks flushed as I saw a hint of blood on the tip.

Cautiously, I guided him into my mouth. The taste was exquisite. Salty, sweet, and a hint of musky copper. It wasn't just a combination of our juices; it was the taste of us. A complicated, sometimes sweet, and always bloody series of events.

Dylan thrusts into my throat feverishly before unleashing his seed inside. His face morphed from controlled and stern to that of blissful release.

A sheen of sweat covered his forehead as he panted, "How'd it taste, darling?"

I gave him a wicked grin. "Delicious, baby."

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and incidents are fictitious and the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, organizations, or events are entirely coincidental.

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