“Let me check if you’re ready,” he says back, and I’m expecting to feel his fingers between our rubbing bodies. Instead, he pulls off of me and brings his head between my legs. With one long lick up my slit he has me thrashing against his face.
“You’re so ready, Peyton. And you’re so fucking delicious. Sweet.” He starts kissing me down there in a way I’ve never experienced before. Like he’s French kissing me.
“I’m…I’m gonna come.” And it’s pathetic to even say it, but I’m almost disappointed that I’m going to climax now rather than with him inside of me.
“Do it. Let go, Peyton. Your first one can be all over my mouth, baby. And then I’ll pump into you so you can squeeze my dick and take your second one.”
Fuck. His words. Dirty. Filthy. My body is on fire. And I want to believe that he could give me a second one, but I don’t have time to think about it because my orgasm is soaring through me.
White lights blind me as every cell in my body claps for Wendell.
He licks me all up before coming up for air.
For a split second he looks at me and I wonder what he’s going to do next. I grab his head and pull it down to mine, devouring him. I can taste myself on him and I get even more turned on.
That’s when I feel his cock waiting patiently against my clit. I reach down and line him up so he can slide into me. My nipples graze his chest, sending fissures of friction throughout my body.
“Fuck, you’re tight, Peyton. You’re gonna fucking wring me dry.”
I can feel myself around his swollen girth, and my nails dig deeper into his shoulders.
“But not before I feel you clamp around me first, baby.”
He thrusts into me. Once. Twice. Hard. Harder.
Then his hands are around my torso and he’s leaning back on his knees. I’m a rag doll in his arms. Fully, fucking turned on, but totally and utterly to be used upon his whim.
“Do you feel that, baby? Feel how big you make me?”
I moan against his neck.
“Watch.” He growls into my ear. “Watch how you take me.”
Eyes weighed down in lust, fall to where he’s pumping inside of me, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I squeeze around him, feeling another—impossible—orgasm coming. I think I’m about to cry, it feels so good.
“Oh my God, Wendell. I’m—”
His grunt cuts me off and I fly off into a second orgasm. His low guttural cry muffles against my neck as I feel him explode into me.
Heavy breathing. Sweaty bodies. Hot. Slick. Home.
Wendell.
My thoughts can’t complete themselves. And then he’s up, going to the bathroom, coming back with a towel, cleaning me. Only moments later, his arms wind around me and we cuddle off to sleep.
Chapter 8
Wendell
The best night of my life could not have been followed up by a worse morning. If I could have imagined all the possible ways to wake up, I never would have pictured this. I only called Savage once about what was going on so he could keep tabs on Peyton when I left and so that he could put out feelers on this Chrome guy, but I honestly never expected things to turn so quickly. Obviously, he’s connected and was the right man to call.
Already grouchy because I have to leave town on a two-day away stint, I wake up to a text from my cousin, Savage. It’s just a link to an article.
And really, I should be relieved—ecstatic, even—when I read it. I mean, not because a man is dead, but because the man that was bothering Peyton is dead. And no, it wasn’t Savage.
Reading the article should take a weight off my chest. And it does. But the weight removed gets replaced by a much larger, sharper, more complicated boulder.
I just married my dream girl and thought I had a few months to convince her to fall in love with me. With this recent news, there’s noreason to stay married. But I should tell her the news even though it’ll break me.
