- Media -
Artist: Patrick Stump
Song: My City
_________________________Third person narrative
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2 weeks laterDylan Cross was carefully stripping off his white shirt. It had been four days since he's returned home to downtown, Ottawa. He missed his city. It was late, almost midnight. Dylan tossed his shirt in a nearby chair, then bent down to untie the laces to his black leather hunting boots. Lightning struck at the same time as his pendulum clock struck twelve. As he knelt down on one knee and let his eyes wander around the room, he noticed the dragging white curtain in his apartment. It was soaking wet and it's tip swam across the cherry wooden floor. The white curtain clung to the wall with its life. Dylan stood then, and took a good look around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He could have sworn that all the windows had been closed shut before his flight to London. Dylan grabbed a pen from the discarded shirt and tucked it securely in between his forefinger and middle finger. He drew it up so that the pointy side lay against the inside length of his right arm and the bottom clicker lay hidden in his fist. His hard defined muscles flexed with every sway of his body. He was agile and fast like a panther. Dylan Cross was a predator; never the prey.
Dylan advanced past the white curtain and checked to see if there was any clue of a break-in. The door did not have a single scratch so perhaps someone might have tried to break in through the window. Dylan found not so much as a single scratch or tear in the white-painted window. Disappointed by his findings, he retrieved to the small living room space and started a fire in the chimney. He sat on a nearby arm chair and stared into the burgeoning flames. It was pouring rain outside. Frankly, he did not have the luxury to worry about this break-in at the moment. Other pressing matters clouded his thoughts..
Dylan inhaled deeply and exhaled loudly into a sigh. He rested his neck back and placed his hands on both sides of the arm wrests. A nearby clatter forced him back up on his feet. As he took a leisurely look around, his gaze zero-ed in on the white curtain still dripping from the rain. He saw a female figure clinging to the curtain to sheath herself from his view. Annabelle Weschester. It had to be her.
Dylan dropped the pen he held in his hand, made a bee-line in her direction and spared just a few inches of distance to knock her off her feet, literally. He untucked the tight and wet fabric from her grasp and looked deep into her blue eyes. She shivered. Whether it was from the fact that she had no item of clothing on her body and was dripping wet, it did not matter. What did was what happened in the following minutes. Dylan crashed his lips onto hers and held her against him with his left hand at the small of her back. Her bones tingled at the sensation. Her nipples rose with excitement and she lost every inch of resolve she had left. Anna was under his spell and after a week of dating and teasing, their first intimate moment was happening now!
Dylan bit on her bottom lip and she moaned inside his mouth. It was the most erotic thing he had ever experienced. Other women had exaggerated their pleasure before with him, but not Annabelle. She was naturally responsive and genuine.
Anna threaded her fingers through his hair pulling him closer. Dylan tucked a strand of hair behind her left ear and let his right hand trail the outline of her earlobe. She shivered at the scintillating sensation. He left her mouth and directed his attention to the other earlobe. His lips wet, he dropped a soft kiss first and then bit the edge of her earlobe, sexily. His tongue lavished her ear while his right hand soothed the other. His hands on her was the only thing keeping her upright at the moment. She gripped the linings of his black jeans and inserted a finger inside the waistband for support. How could she resist this man? His every touch sent shivers all through her body.
Dylan retracted, cradled her face into his palms and gave her a sheepish smile; "wow" was all he said. Breathless and panting, she closed her eyelids and tried to focus her breathing. Without any luck, she opened her eyes only to see him stare at her heaving chest. He struggled with his inner demons to snatch his focus back up to her eyes; when he finally did, he said "you are beautiful". Right then, her fingers curled inside his waistband without realizing it.
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