Chapter 21
Celebrate he did. Dylan shared a bottle of champagne with the grooms from the training yard, Sean Fox and the owners of Midas Touch. He wouldn’t be racing for a few days, so he allowed himself to relax and enjoy the merriment.
Sean Fox slapped him hard on the back. ‘Well done, son. I knew you’d do it!’ Dylan took his bravado casually, knowing full well the wrath he would have incurred had he not won. Although the atmosphere at Newmarket was buoyant, Dylan couldn’t wait to get back to Treweham, to really celebrate with his friends in The Templar. He knew they’d all have been watching, cheering him on, and it warmed him to picture it. For a moment he thought of Flora – would she be there? Imagining her slim, toned body turned him on like a switch. Winning always made him horny, and he was a winner.
‘We’re heading back to Treweham now. You coming with us?’ one of the grooms asked.
‘Sure, let’s go.’ Dylan collected his gear and followed him, glad to be sharing a lift home with the stable team, rather than Sean Fox.
The journey was a pleasant one. They’d tossed a coin to nominate a driver, leaving the rest to pass round hip flasks of whisky. Raucous laughter bellowed from the Land Rover, and they were in high spirits by the time they arrived at The Templar.
It was early evening, and the pub was still packed when Dylan walked through the door. He was greeted by loud whistles and cheers. Finula raised and clapped her hands, her face rapt with joy for him. Dylan came straight over to her and leant over the bar. ‘Now surely that deserves a kiss, Finula?’
She threw her head back with a laugh but Dermot intervened in the nick of time.
‘No it doesn’t, Delany.’ Everybody chuckled. Except Flora, who was sitting quietly in a corner, out of sight.
People shook Dylan’s hand, slapped his back and bought him drinks, then more drinks. Everyone wanted to speak to him, to be a part of the celebration. Tracy asked for his autograph. He paused, looked straight down her top and said he’d be delighted. Where did she want him to sign? Still Flora sat in the corner. Her friends had left long ago. She had wanted to stay to wait for Dylan to return. Patiently she looked to catch his eye, for him to notice her and come dashing over with open arms. But nobody was aware of her; it was all so busy.
Dylan, however, was aware of a woman with long, blonde hair looking over. Now and then he would glance across to find her staring at him. As the drinks continued to flow his spirits lifted higher. He clocked her again and took in her cleavage, which was spilling out of her low-cut tight red dress. He smiled in her direction, but then a local man distracted him, eager to shake hands with him. A few moments later the blonde made her way over.
‘Fancy a drink, Dylan?’
He turned, swaying slightly. Blinking to focus properly, he saw that the tight red dress complimented her curves and showcased her long, shapely legs. He homed in on her chest again. That switch turned on. Suddenly Dylan wanted his bed. He was tired of celebrating; he wanted to lie down.
‘I’ve had enough to drink, thanks,’ he replied. ‘It’s time for bed.’ The woman gave a sexy grin.
‘Is it really?’
Dylan stared into her face. She had pouting, red lips and inviting eyes.
‘Follow me,’ he ordered, then took the stairs to his room. The woman tottered on stilettos behind him. Within moments they were both outside room four.
Meanwhile, Flora had witnessed it all. Shaking, she got up and walked straight out of The Templar.
Dylan pulled his conquest inside and locked the door behind him. He grabbed her to him and began to unzip the back of her dress. She feverishly unbuttoned his shirt. The feel of the bare skin of his broad shoulders and back beneath her palms was breath-taking. Dylan yanked off the red dress, leaving her standing in nothing but a lace thong. He took her hands impatiently, pulling them down to his enormous erection. She groped him slowly, then felt for his button and pulled down his jeans and boxer shorts. Unable to hold out any longer, Dylan guided her to the bed. His powerful legs and chest bearing down on her was wildly exciting. When he tore off her underwear and launched himself inside her, she cried out in pleasure, arching her back against him. A raw urge overcame Dylan. He moved his mouth to her breasts, taking each nipple between his teeth and tongue, increasing the pace of his thrusts. She dug her fingers into his buttocks, pulling him further inside her slick heat. Dylan couldn’t control himself any longer. He let out a guttural moan and exploded inside her. They both lay panting for several minutes.
Finally Dylan rolled onto his back and stretched out his arms. He was tired, so tired. The room started to spin from the drink and exhaustion. As he closed his eyes he felt a cold, hard grip on his wrist. Then he was out: sleep had taken over.
The next morning Finula was waiting to cook Dylan’s breakfast. All the other guests had had theirs and his was the only one left. She’d expected him to be up late after last night’s partying, but she needed to get on with preparing the lunches soon. Looking at the clock and frowning, she decided to go up to his room and see if he wanted breakfast in bed.
Tapping at the door she tentatively called, ‘Dylan, are you there?’ There was a ruffling noise, then a cough.
‘Finula, is that you?’ he hissed back.
‘Yeah, is everything all right?’
‘No. Are you alone?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘Come in,’ he said in hushed tones. Turning the door handle and poking her head round the door, she fought hard not to laugh. There on the bed lay a naked Dylan, covered only by a crumpled linen sheet, handcuffed to the brass headboard. ‘It’s not funny! The bitch’s fastened me to the bloody bed!’
‘Oh, Dylan.’ Finula doubled over in hysterics. ‘Who was it?’
‘I dunno! Some woman who I can’t remember came on to me.’
Finula wagged a finger at him. ‘Well, let this be a lesson to you, Dylan Delany.’ Then she started to laugh again.
