His brain short circuits, realizing what’s in front of him, and he drops the clothing on the floor, his eyes zeroing in on myglistening pussy. Soaked is an understatement. I know from using my own arousal to help lube his cock up. It’s been like this all day. A constant state of needy and wanton, waiting for tonight. For him.
The way he looks at me makes me feel confident and unafraid of telling him what I want. To push him back against the door and suck him off like I’ve thought about a million times over the last few months. One of the only times I’ve allowed myself to think about him—when I’m getting myself off.
How often have I pictured his cock sliding down my throat while I’ve lain right here with a toy? While I’ve fucked myself with one?
“Look how wet you are,” he breathes, a hint of disbelief in his words. I half expect a ‘holy shit’ to follow.
“For you,” I tell him, sliding my hand over a breast to pinch one of my nipples through the fabric of my bra as I spread my legs wider for him to feast on what he does to me.
“I want to fuck you so bad, B.”
His hands slide up the outside of my calves, then beneath them, gripping them to slide me down the bed towards him until my ass is nearly hanging off the end. He takes all the weight of my legs, and then drops to the floor between them, moving them over his shoulders. I suck in a breath, sitting up on my elbows to watch, a finger gently moving over each of my hard nipples.
“Do you want me to fuck you, B? I need you to tell me you want me, baby.”
“Want was months ago,” I whisper when his lips brush against the inside of my thigh. “Tonight I need you to fuck me. Need, Wy. I’m so far past want.”
He lets out a guttural sound, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. The intense heat has reached ferocious levels in his eyes, creating another wave of desire to pulsate through my body, straightbetween my legs for him to discover.
Part of me thinks he might stand back up and fuck me right then, but instead, his hands slide along the back of my thighs until they smooth over the curve of my ass, causing me to lift my hips when he squeezes each mound tightly.
His nose brushes against the crease of my leg. “Did you know I’ve spent countless hours thinking about the way you taste? The memory of sucking your orgasm off my fingers has gotten me through so many nights, baby.” He breathes in deeply. “I want to spend every minute of the night right here, licking you up and down until you can’t stand it anymore.”
“No,” I pant, squirming on the bed. “I mean, yes, but no… no because I need your cock.”
When his tongue dips into my entrance and then slides all the way up my slit, I nearly take the words back. Until he avoids the one place I need him. My clit. He circles around it, never touching it directly, and I buck my hips, seeking that friction I desperately crave.
“But I’m starvin’, B,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the spot just above my clit. “A man’s gotta eat.”
“So fucking eat,” I demand, pulling him towards me with my legs.
A growl erupts from him, and I know in that moment that I’ve snapped whatever control he had on himself. I expect a feeding frenzy, but what I get is so, so much better. His tongue flattens, soft and smooth, sliding over my clit in one sweep, causing me to moan and arch off the bed. Teeth skim down one side of my pussy lips, barely there, then drag back up the other side with more pressure. His fingers knead into my ass in the opposite way, gentle on one side, rough on the other, and the contrast between it has my mind spinning. When he laps at my clit again, my hips buck, but he ridesthe movement with his face like I’m still as a statue, never once losing what he was doing.
“Oh god, Wy,” I whimper, dropping onto the bed, unable to hold myself up to keep watching.
I grab onto my comforter, fisting it in my hand as I writhe against him, the heat inside of me rising with each beautifully torturous lick. He finds a rhythm that has me gasping for air, my orgasm building like an incoming storm threatening to destroy everything I’ve ever known.
Wyatt slides a finger into me, and I moan loudly, wanting more. But he withdraws it, dragging the wetness from my core all the way down to my asshole. He doesn’t even need to penetrate me for me to come undone for him. One circle around the tight hole and his mouth sucking my clit, and I’m done, back arching off the bed as my orgasm slams into me.
Wave after blissful wave as my walls constrict around nothing, the blood thundering in my ears as I ride every second out. He does too, his tongue still lapping at me, drawing out the pleasure for as long as he can until I can’t take anymore, and I’m pushing my legs together, trying to get him to stop.
He comes up for air, listening to my body language. Attuned to what I need.
“That made for one good appetizer,” he says, gently maneuvering me with his shoulders and arms so I’m sliding up the bed and he’s letting my legs down to the mattress.
When I catch my breath, I open my eyes and see him at the end of the bed, taking one of his cowboy boots off. “I thought you took those off at the door.”
“Only one of them before you told me about your damn toys and I went all caveman on you,” he says with a grin, completely pleased with himself. “Which I still want to see, but the need forthat has settled some after my meal.”
“I promise I’ll show you.”
Sitting up, I twist around so I’m on my knees, and crawl towards him, watching as he shoves his pants and boxer briefs over his hips, letting them fall to the ground. He looks as hard as he was before I sucked him off earlier, and I go to reach for him, pausing when I notice another tattoo.
I don’t know how I didn’t see it when I was face level on my knees earlier, but he has a tattoo, maybe the size of my palm, inked on the skin there. If that wasn’t sexy as hell on its own, the tattoo that marks him would be.
“I suppose I didn’t mention that I got two tattoos that night, did I?” he murmurs, stepping closer for me to see it. “Our first kiss.”
My eyes flick up to his, then back to the shape of a mouth outlined in red, with a bullseye and laser tag gun tattooed overtop. If there were any pieces of my heart that didn’t become his throughout the day, they’re his now. Emotion pricks at my eyes. He was so certain this whole time that things between us would work out. Certain enough that he tattooed himself not once, but twice. A permanent branding of his body. For me.
