Their Love Story

Chapter 2

Dylan took my hand, and led me down the long hallway of our back room. Past rolling racks of clothes, and shelves of boxes. The ceiling was exposed and long pipes and ductwork extended parallel to our direction, giving the illusion that our journey is longer than it was.

Where was he taking me?

Quickly my mind tried to summon images of dark, secluded spaces within the confines of our department store, and I could not think of many. Years I've been here, and I could not think of a single spot where Dylan could act out on whatever it was he had planned for me. I suppose that's a testament to my good nature. He was really the only man I've had true interest in for years. Maybe even decades. Maybe longer. Something about him completely switched me on. Beyond his looks, and the glimpse of a personality I've managed under his stoic demeanor, he radiated this energy that completely drew me in. An energy so magnificently seductive I couldn't help but be led by the hand of this beautiful man. This man, who wanted me, right this moment.

Why?

Why me, of all the other girls? He could have any woman he wants, and yet, he chose me. Shy Stephanie. The quiet, awkward one. The hot mess. Although lately I've been doing more to present myself. Hair done, curled at the ends. My make-up on point. Tightly fitted jeans, and a shirt that shows my cleavage. If he had known that I check the schedule ahead of time to see if he was closing, the man would probably write me off in an instant. Of course, it's my job to know who and when are going to be under my management for the current shift. It's just that Dylan's shift happens to be the only one I retain.

Who knows, maybe he's into the crazy stalker type.

He seems to be into me, anyhow.

I look up to his face, from the corner of my eye, for he won't notice. From this position I can see all the details of his profile. A strong chin, accentuated by his stubble. A small, unique nose, like one that could easily avoid a punch. I wonder if that's how he got that scar under his bottom lip. This man is full of mystery, but I can still make out his expression. His face is determined. Brow furrowed, devising what I can only assume are the hard, and rough things he intends to do to my body. I can feel myself getting wetter at the thought of it. Having Dylan, alone, all to myself. But where? Where are we going?

We reach a junction in the hallway, to our left, heading out to the sales floor, and our right, some more high shelves made of steel, towering over us, filled to the fullest with overstocked items. They can shield us from prying eyes. But the cameras?

"There's a blindspot back there", Dylan says with a gesture of his head. Almost like he could read my mind. 

Maybe he can?

Following his lead, we make our way back to the maze of steel to whichever place my captain in this adventure sees fit. A few yards down, we stop, and he turns to me. My hand still in his, he pulls it to his mouth, giving it a sweet kiss right in the middle of it. My heart shudders. He looks down to me, lifting my face to his, and kisses me on the lips. Slower this time, his are relaxed, and soft. It was the sweetest of kisses. The hairs on his face tickling me. Not uncomfortable, but just enough for an added sensation. He kisses me again, moving his right hand to my lower back, and wrapping his left arm around my head, holding me there, as his kissing gets harder.

He bites my lip.

I gasp.

I bite his back.

He smiles, and kisses me deep, tongue and all. His right hand is moving now, grabbing my bottom. His hand feels amazing. A firm grip. Powerful. Just his gaze can influence me, but his touch completely consumes me. I kiss him even deeper, trying to outdo every move of his.

Oh, he's such a great kisser.

Just as quick as that thought came, my focus shifts from his lips, to his hand, which has moved to my front. I opted out of a belt today, and he has seemed to notice, smiling against my mouth as he rubs the outside of my button. His kiss slows down, attention switching, and I could feel his breathing quicken, as he slowly edges his hand down my waistline.

Oh, God!

His touch above my clothes were enough to make my body tremble.

As his hand moves father down I begin to shake, my breathing turned to panting. His fingers feel down passed my panties, and I moan. He groans in response, and moves his face to my neck, kissing it hard. Biting down. I gasp at his teeth. He responds by sucking it, and my body fills with pleasure. I can feel the wetness just beneath his touch, and he moves ever closer, stoping just before reaching me.

I want to touch him. To reach out and grab him, feel him, stroke him, please him, but I can't move. All my control is gone, but internally I scream for him.

"Dylan! Oh, Dylan!"

I beg for his touch. For his body. For him to enter me, right here, all those who may find us be damned to hell.

I need him.

"Do you want me to touch it?" he says, just outside my ear. His deep, controlled voice makes me tremble.

"Y-yes", I stammer out, my voice cracked and breathy.

"Do you need me to touch it?" he demands, biting on my ear.

"Yes!" I moan, my will slightly coming back to life.

He kisses me. My mouth is numb, his kiss is hard. I try to pull away, for I can breath, but he doesn't relent. He forces his tongue in, and I receive it willingly, almost crying with my desire, and then, when I thought I couldn't feel anymore powerless as I do now, he does what my body has been begging for him to do since we first touched lips.

He touches it.

Forcing his hand down, he grabs me, sliding his finger into me. My body explodes with pure ecstasy, and he kisses me harder. All my focus on his fingers, I can't kiss back. He pushes his palm against me, moving it in a circular motion, close to the same way I pleasure myself, but ten times more incredible. His fingers pushed into me, he moves them, hitting every sweet spot on the way in, and out. I moan with every stroke, I gasp at every push. His leg is wrapped around me, and I can feel him pushed into my side. He's hard. Substantially. If only I could move, for I can pleasure him the way he does me. My body is on fire. I'm so close. I begin to shake, my legs start to give, I tilt my head back and let myself go. I yell out in passion. I don't care who hears me. His hand is moving quicker. His fingers reaching deeper. I begin to vibrate. A strange sound is coming from behind me. A familiar sound. A sound I hardly ever want to hear, but now is the worst of worst times.

It's my ringtone.

Damn it all to hell!

He pulls his hand from my jeans, still holding on to me with the other. Grabbing my phone from my back pocket, he looks at it, rather than giving it to me. Glancing at the number, he smiles, turning the phone back to show me the caller.

Of course. It's my best friend.

I take the phone from him and answer it, my voice nearly gone, and my breath still not yet caught up.

"H-hello?" I manage to groan.

"Where the heck are you? Why is your walkie off? Management is asking!"

"I'll be right out, hold on" I tell her, ending the call, but before I can put the phone away, Dylan grabs it.

"What are you doing?" I ask him. He ignores me. Watching him swiping around the device, and eventually typing something out, he hands it back.

"Text me when you want to finish this", he says with a smile, laying a soft kiss on my forehead.

He turns to walk away, and I'm left breathless, leaning back against the boxes on the rack behind me. I watch him stroll off, trying to make sense of what just happened. I'm unsuccessful, so decide to call my friend back. Opening up my phone, I see an application left open that I didn't use. It's my contacts, and on it is a name right at the top, that I never in a million years would think be in my phone.

Dylan Edward.