Dylan was sitting at his desk. The window in front of him overlooked the training yard where three of his staff were busy preparing the stables for the racehorses that were due to be delivered that afternoon. Flora, his assistant trainer and girlfriend, had asked for fresh hay, water and clean swept floors. Not that the grooms really needed telling, all having previously worked at Sean Fox’s training yard. Meanwhile, Flora was busy making phone calls, ensuring final preparations for the arrival of the horses were in place. Dylan had opened Delany’s Racing Yard only a few weeks ago and already the stables were half full. He had room for thirty horses, and at this rate they’d soon be training at full capacity and would need more staff.
He couldn’t expect Flora to continue working at her current pace, particularly as she was still recovering from a virus. As Flora’s parents were travelling around Europe and her brother was at university, Dylan had insisted she come and stay with him for a few days until she had recovered, but that few days had turned into weeks. Together they had rubbed along nicely, living and working alongside each other in an easy, uncomplicated way.
Although Flora was only twenty, Dylan held her in high esteem. She had an innocent, honest sincerity about her, which he admired, especially when comparing her to the many crude, licentious women who threw themselves at him. Dylan had a reputation, which up until Flora came into his life he had been more than happy to uphold. He was the sexiest and most successful jockey, both on and off the racecourse. His dark curls, twinkling blue eyes and thoroughly toned body had sent many a lady’s heart pounding, and Dylan had been chased, a lot, sometimes leading to rather unfortunate circumstances. One lover had handcuffed him to the bed and sold her kiss-and-tell story to a newspaper; another, the wife of a client, had been seducing him in the hot tub when her husband had arrived home early. All water under the bridge now, Dylan liked to think.
Flora, however, didn’t. She might be ten years younger than he, but she was well aware of Dylan’s lothario days. Still, she couldn’t fault the care and attention he had shown her whilst she was ill. Like Dylan, Flora had grown to love their living together and, whilst nothing officially had been said, it had gradually become the norm for her to stay at his house. Flora had noticed how clinically clean and ordered Dylan’s home was when she had first arrived but now it had turned into a proper home, which looked lived-in.
Working together, they had flourished, each intuitively understanding the other, and each had a way with horses so it was little wonder that already they had had quite a few runners thundering past the finishing line in first place. In fact, it was all going so well that Dylan was about to announce his retirement as a jockey, to dedicate all his time to the training yard, and keeping Flora happy. She had shown her fiery, stubborn side once and he didn’t wish to see it again.
Now he looked sideways at her whilst she was talking on the phone. His gaze automatically homed in on her pale, flawless complexion. She was biting her bottom lip and frowning slightly, deep in concentration. Her blond hair hung in waves to her shoulders and he suddenly longed to feel its silky touch between his fingers.
Dylan got up from his desk and stood behind her on the sofa. He bent down and kissed her neck and she turned slightly and smiled, continuing to talk into the phone. His lips ran across her collarbone; then, deciding he wanted more of her, his hands started to unbutton her shirt. She giggled slightly, then quickly coughed and carried on her conversation. She playfully slapped his hand. He ignored it and continued to pop her buttons until he pulled the shirt apart, to reveal her splendid creamy breasts, spilling out of a red lace bra. How was he supposed to concentrate on work, knowing she was wearing this? His hands cupped her breasts, which felt soft and warm. His tongue found one of her nipples and slowly licked it and instantly it hardened. He heard her release a sigh. Flora quickly wrapped up the phone call and released another sigh as Dylan’s hand moved further down to delve inside her jeans.
‘Let’s go home,’ he whispered thickly into her ear.
It was so tempting, but how could they, with so much to do? ‘We can’t Dylan,’ she replied faintly, as his thumb rubbed her intimately. She was fully aroused and he could feel she was ready for him. He couldn’t stop now; his need was way too strong. He moved to stand in front of her, then picked her up with ease and placed her on the edge of his desk. His eyes blazed with passion as he pulled her jeans and red lace knickers down over her legs and onto the floor. ‘Dylan, we can’t,’ she protested quietly, knowing full well they could and would.
Dylan didn’t reply, but kissed away her unconvincing objections. As his tongue explored her mouth, she could feel his stubble against her face and smell his aftershave. Intoxicated by him, Flora closed her eyes in surrender as Dylan gently parted her thighs. He’d undone his jeans to fully expose his large, hard erection. He edged himself slowly into her silky heat and groaned with pleasure while she clasped his buttocks and let out a gasp. He pushed further into her, making her cry out again. Dylan wanted more and ground deeper and harder until finally he burst with absolute satisfaction. She clung to him panting, her legs wrapped tightly round him.
‘What if someone had come in?’ she asked, breathlessly.
Dylan was zipping himself up. He looked at her affectionately. ‘Well, nobody did, did they?’ He winked and kissed her hard on the lips until they were interrupted by the phone ringing. Picking it up he answered smoothly, ‘Hello, Delany’s Racing Yard,’ whilst watching Flora quickly fumble with her clothes.