Sarah’s orgasm triggered his. Dylan’s release slammed into him as he came with a growl at the same time Chris impaled her one last time, his groan echoing in the room.
And then it was Tristan’s turn. He guided his cock back into Sarah’s mouth as Dylan lay there and watched. He couldn’t look away as Tristan used her for his own pleasure. He knew how good her mouth was.
“Gonna come, sweet girl… Oh, fuck, yes.” Before he came, Tristan pulled out of her mouth, cum spurting onto her back as she locked eyes with Dylan.
When it was over, Dylan pulled Sarah down on him, cradling her head to his chest as he fought to breathe. The bed shifted; Chris and Tristan disappeared. He could hear them moving around.
As they lay there, Tristan quickly cleaned Sarah, using a washcloth on her back and her ass. Dylan would’ve thanked him for the thoughtfulness if he could have woven at least a couple of words together. As it was, he was emotionally and physically drained.
While he lay there with his eyes closed, his arms around Sarah, he listened to the sounds in the room. Cleaning up, getting dressed. Then the sound of the door opening and shutting, leaving them in silence.
Dylan realized Sarah had fallen asleep on him. He didn’t want to wake her, so he settled on holding her for a little while.
He tried not to think, not to worry.
It was a hell of a lot harder than it should’ve been.
His thoughts were all over the place.
“I remember them,” Sarah said softly.
“Who?”
“Christian and Tristan. From high school.”
Dylan didn’t say anything.
“It’s safe to assume y’all still keep in touch.”
Dylan smiled to himself. Yeah, that was a good assumption. “So, what did you think?”
“About?”
“Being fucked by three men.”
Sarah sighed. “It was … an experience.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“I did. Immensely.”
“Would you be willing to do it again?”
“Tonight?”
Dylan chuckled at the concern in her voice.
“Not tonight, baby. You need to rest.”
“I do need to rest,” she confirmed. “But yes, I’d be willing to do it again.”
He liked that she would. Although it had seemed she’d enjoyed herself, he hadn’t known for sure. Hearing the words from her mouth settled him somewhat.
Sarah eased off him, but she didn’t move far, her head resting on his chest, her body beside his. “Tell me something.”
“Hmm.”
“Did you do that with Meghan?”
Just the mention of Meghan’s name had Dylan’s body tensing. Before he could even think about what he was doing, he was out of the bed and grabbing for his clothes. When he looked over at Sarah, her eyes were wide.
“Get dressed,” he commanded. Realizing he sounded like a dick, he tacked on, “Please.”
Without another word, Sarah grabbed her clothes and disappeared into the adjoining bathroom. He heard the toilet flush, the water in the sink come on. Fifteen minutes later, Sarah wandered out into the room, but Dylan noticed she wasn’t looking at him.
When he moved toward her, she took a step back.
“I’m sorry,” he told her.
Sarah’s eyes lifted to his. “No, you’re not.”
Dylan frowned.
“Every time I try to talk about anything personal, you close up on me, Dylan. Have you ever wondered about my past? About my loss? You’ve never asked, so I assume you haven’t. Well, I wonder about that with you. But it’s clear that you’re not ready to talk about her yet. And that means that this thing between us”—she motioned with her hands—“no matter how intimate it gets, is going nowhere.”
Dylan disagreed, but he kept his mouth shut because, after all, she did have a good point.
chapter TWENTY-EIGHT
BY THE TIME DYLAN PULLED into her driveway, Sarah was a bundle of emotions ready to implode. She couldn’t believe the way Dylan had acted when she’d tried to talk to him. Who knew that mentioning Meghan would’ve had him shutting completely down? Then again, it had been the first time Sarah had tried talking about her and mentioning her name. Suggesting Dylan talk hadn’t led him to bringing up the subject. And after what they’d shared tonight…
Well, Sarah had mistakenly believed that they were making strides.
Apparently she’d been wrong.
Without waiting for Dylan to get out of the truck, Sarah opened her door and made a beeline for the porch. She didn’t look back, but she knew Dylan was following her because she heard his door open and shut. She wasn’t sure why he even bothered, because if they tried to talk tonight, things would likely backfire in her face.
As much as she wanted to rail at him, to insist that he talk about things that mattered, she knew now was not the time to do that. She wasn’t in the right frame of mind and neither was he. There was no way she could accurately express how much he’d hurt her by shutting down like that.
When she opened the door, she didn’t bother asking if he wanted to come in. It was evident that he did or he wouldn’t have followed her to her door.
“We need to talk,” Dylan said when he closed the front door.
Sarah spun around and glared at him. “Now?”
“Yes, now.”
“Oh, so it’s okay when you’re ready to talk. But when I’m trying to make conversation, you can bolt on me? I don’t think that’s how this is supposed to work.”
“You wanted to talk about Meghan,” Dylan barked. “That’s a topic of conversation that’s off-limits.”
Sarah stepped back as though he’d slapped her. His words were certainly the equivalent.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware of the off-limits rule,” she countered. “I thought we’d moved past that.”
“Past what, Sarah?”
She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. “Remember earlier? When you asked me if I trusted you?”
Dylan stared at her as though she’d lost her mind.
“I said yes. Because I trust you, Dylan. And I thought you trusted me.”
“I do.”
“Bullshit. You trust me with sex, but that’s it. That’s all this is, right? Sex? No different than three years ago. I’m a distraction and you got what you wanted. So what the fuck are you sticking around for?”
Sarah could tell she’d hit a sore spot with him.
“You want to talk about Meghan?” he yelled. “Fine. Let’s talk about her. Let’s talk about how I spent the last eleven years of my life getting over the fact that she died in my fucking arms, Sarah. That’s what you want to hear, right? That I’m over it. That I’m not broken.”
“Fuck you,” she hissed. That wasn’t at all what she’d wanted to hear.
“But it’s what you want, right?” Dylan taunted her. “You want me to come crawling on my hands and knees, providing you the opportunity to fix me. Right, Sarah? It’s what you do best? You put everyone else before yourself so you can fix them?”
What the hell was Dylan talking about? He was delusional was what he was.
“Fuck you!” Sarah exclaimed, turning away from him and walking toward the kitchen. She tried to control her breathing. This conversation wasn’t going to go anywhere, so hashing it out was pointless.