Chapter Three
Zoe
I’m standing in front of the buffet at Whole Foods staring at the trays full of mac and cheese, fried rice, breaded fish, and chicken. None of which have ever entered my mouth, never. I hold my little brown box feeling completely flustered. When I was five, my mom decided I needed a hobby to help get me out of my shell. I was a shy kid who used to hide behind my mother’s hip whenever anyone would try to talk to me. After the art classes and swimming lessons were a bust, she put me in ballet classes at the community center, and it was just what I needed. Dancing up on that stage made me feel like a different person, one who wasn’t actually afraid of her own shadow. I could lose myself in the music and the choreography, letting the weight of my insecurities float away. Turns out I was really good. So good, in fact, that I got a scholarship to the Pacific Northwest Ballet Academy. A part of being a dancer with the PNWB is you are expected to stay a certain weight, which means missing out on pizza, ice cream, basically all things carb, sugar, and good tasting.
I can feel Dylan watching me, he’s probably wondering why it's taking me so long to pick something to eat. “I don’t normally eat food like this.” My cheeks burn red. If he didn't think I was weird before, he does now.
“What did you like to eat before you became a dancer?” he asks.
“I’ve never actually eaten any junk food,” I reply shyly.
“So wait, you’ve never had pizza or burgers? What about French fries? You've had to of had cake and ice cream when you were a kid.”
I hide my face behind my empty food box. “Nope, I didn’t have any of it. I was very disciplined, even as a child. You must think I’m a freak.” You can’t even imagine how difficult it was as a nine-year-old at birthday parties to be eating carrots and celery while the other kids were stuffing their faces with cake and candy.
“No, not at all. All I’m thinking is how I want to stuff you with cheeseburgers and desserts." He taps his index finger against his chin. "How about for tonight, calories don’t count, and you can eat whatever your heart desires.” He closes the space between us and bends down to my ear. “Besides, we will be working off all those calories later.” His lustful words make my pussy clench. “What do you want to eat?”
Besides his cock? I want every fattening thing in this fucking store. I drop the container on the silver buffet. My first instinct is to go for the steamed vegetables, instead, I guide my hand over to the spoon resting in the tray of five cheese and bacon macaroni and cheese. I scoop up a huge spoonful and drop it in my box.
“That’s my girl.” Dylan flashes me an approving smile.
Next, I go for the pork samosas and spring rolls. If its deep fried and breaded it goes right into my box. Once my box is full, I bring it up to my nose and breathe in all the delicious smells. I place my box into the basket Dylan is holding, and then we walk over to the bakery. I figure if calories don’t count tonight then ordering one of every little fruit and pudding tart won’t hurt. Dylan just watches in proud amazement while I order a big slice of chocolate cake on top of all the other mouthwatering desserts I ordered. I plan on eating every last crumb of this cake off Dylan’s naked body when we get back to my apartment.
*******
“Oh my God, this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” I moan, licking the bacon grease and cheese off my lips. After our stop at Whole Foods, Dylan took me to get bacon cheeseburgers from Red Mill Burger, and pizza from Hot Mama’s. I’ve been stuffing my face with all of it. I'm probably going to get sick from eating all this, but it will be so worth it.
This is not how I saw our night going after the fiasco with my dress. I spent the afternoon with Nora trying on every dress at Nordstrom’s. I found a gorgeous teal lace dress that hit me just above my knee and hugged what little curves I do have perfectly. Most of my wardrobe consists of black tights, jeans, t-shirts, and converse. Not exactly date attire. Then that damn zipper got stuck and, when I tried to pull it loose, the lace ripped. It was a blessing in disguise because now I have Dylan in my apartment all to myself and have had some of the best food I have ever eaten.
“Just wait until you try the pizza.” Dylan smiles, sliding the pizza box across the counter.
I gaze longingly at the cheese and pepperoni goodness. My mouth already watering. “It smells and looks amazing,” I say, picking up a slice. The gooey mozzarella cheese strings dangle down from the crust. I take a small bite and let out an almost orgasmic moan. I officially love pizza.
“Dylan, can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything,” he replies.
“What made you want to be a cop?” I ask. Working around cops for the past year, I’ve heard a lot of interesting stories of how they became cops. Most were following in the footsteps of their fathers, others just wanted to keep the streets safe and serve their community. I’m fascinated to hear Dylan’s reasoning. My sister told me Dylan comes from money, his step father owns the biggest lumber yards in all of Washington. He could have easily taken over the family business and had a cushy desk job. Instead, he puts his life on the line every day to be a SWAT officer.
“My dad and my brothers were my biggest motivation,” he replies.
“Are they cops too?” I ask, taking another bite of my pizza.
Dylan lets out a hardy laugh. “No, my dad and my brothers lived and died on the wrong side of the law. Back in Boston my life was completely different. I grew up in one of the roughest neighborhoods in Boston, Charlestown. I was surrounded by armored truck robbers, drug dealers, and gun runners. All three shared a roof with me. Our house was raided by the FBI at least three times a year, and my dad and brothers were constantly in and out of jail. By the time I was fifteen, my mom had had enough of the lies and abuse my father offered up, so one morning, while my dad and brothers were out pulling a job, she packed me up in her car, and we headed for Seattle where my aunt and uncle lived at the time. My mom lost three sons and her husband to the streets, she didn’t want to lose me too. I never really fit in with my family in Boston. I always knew what they were doing was wrong and especially hated how they treated my mom. I made a promise to myself when I was eight years old that I was going to be a cop when I grew up. I wanted to keep people like my dad off the streets.”
I’m completely blown away by how forth coming Dylan is about his past. My ex, Elliot, had never talked about his life before meeting me. He didn’t even tell me if he still had parents living.
“Thank you for telling me.” I feel even closer to him having heard this. Anyone in his shoes could have easily fallen victim to the streets, but Dylan used his father’s mistakes as ammunition to make his life better. He became a better man for it.
“I want you to know everything about me, Zoe, even the dark parts.” He grabs my hand and pulls me off of my stool and into his lap. “There are no secrets with me, Zoe. I’m an open book. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but it’s a part of who I am. Loving me means loving all…the good, and the ugly. Do you think you can do that?” His tone deepens. One hand slides around the back of my neck, while his other hand trails up my inner thigh, making the heat pool between my legs. All I can do is nod yes. I will take any piece of him I can get as long as he is mine.
“You’re my girl, Zoe. I will never let you go,” he says, sealing our lips in a kiss, his tongue tracing along my lips, pleading for entrance. I part my lips letting him in. Our tongues dance in my mouth. He wants me and only me, and that has my whole body on fire. I need him now more than I need air.
“Dylan, I need you,” I murmur. My hands glide up his crisp white shirt, feeling every firm sculpted muscle on his chest. One by one, I open each little white button, exposing more and more of his golden tanned skin. My lips move along his strong chiseled jaw and down his neck. A low moan escapes from deep in Dylan’s chest when my hands make contact with his bare skin. Sliding his shirt off, I dip my head down and place a gentle kiss on his chest just above his heart.
“Take me to bed, Dylan.”
He envelops me in his strong arms and stands to his feet, carrying me to my bedroom. Gently, he places me back on my feet at the foot of the bed. His hands grip the hem of my shirt, pulling it up over my head, letting it drop to the floor next to my feet. A hand reaches behind my back and, with a quick flick of his wrist, the clasp is open, and the straps are sliding down my arms. He licks his lips hungrily at the sight of my bare breasts. My nipples are hard and ready for his mouth.
“Touch me, please.” My voice is deep and pleading.
His fingers ghost down between my breasts. “So perfect.” He mouths in a hushed tone.
“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” His thumb grazes over my left nipple, sending a surge of electricity through my body. Our lips come together in a deep seductive kiss, hands exploring each other’s bodies.
Trailing my fingers down to his belt, I work open the smooth leather and pop the button open. I slip a hand inside his pants, running it along his thick hard length. He groans into our kiss, pressing himself harder against my palm. I pull away from his lips and start to sink down to my knees, but Dylan stops me.
“There will be plenty of time for you to suck my cock later. Tonight is all about you. Lay back on the bed,” he orders.
I work my jeans down off my hips, leaving my panties on. I’m giving Dylan the gift of me, and it only seems fitting that he unwraps it. I crawl over to the center of the bed, lie back against my elbows, and watch while Dylan removes the rest of his clothes. When his cock springs free from his boxers, my pussy clenches, and the breath in my lungs is sucked out of my body.
“I see the nickname is true,” I absentmindedly say. The rumors of the snake in Dylan’s pants run rampant amongst the badge bunnies. I try not to think about how many of them have actually seen him like this. I must focus on the fact that he and that big fucking dick of his are all mine.
“What nickname might that be?” He cocks a curious eyebrow up at me.
“The girls around the bar call you Big Dick Dylan.” I blush at my own words and fall back against the pillows.
He lets out a chuckle as he climbs up on the bed. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but that one is a first.” He grips his cock in his hand, gently stroking it as he looks down at me. “All ten inches of this dick are yours my little honeybee.”