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I clutched him, burying my face in his shoulder as his wicked words made my nipples impossibly harder. With one hand, he gripped his rock-hard cock and pulled me onto him.
I cried out into the darkened kitchen as he filled me.
Supporting my weight, Wyatt made good on his promise and carried me, his cock still buried deep, down the hallway to his bedroom. He gently laid me on his bed, his frame moving over me as his hips pumped.
I could feel his massive dick throb inside me. I stretched my arms over my head, reveling in the way he made me feel cherished and wanted and used up all at the same time. His hands shoved my top up, letting my chest bounce, and he started dragging his length from me before stuffing himself back in.
Over and over he pumped into me as his hands explored every inch of my body. His thumb found my clit, and I cried out over a string of his curses. My hands reached for his abs, and I explored every hard peak and valley. Tension built in his muscular shoulders, and he rocked into me.
Wyatt leaned back, looking down at where our bodies were connected. “Your pussy is so pretty when it’s taking my cock.”
He reached down and wound his hand around the back of my neck, supporting it as he lifted me up. “Look at it. Look at how well you take me.”
Pleasure flooded my system as his praise sent buzzy warmth pooling between my legs. I watched in awe as his cock disappeared inside me. Deep and full. Over and over he brought me closer to the edge with every thrust of his hips. He increased his pace, and I fell back onto the mattress. Wyatt gripped the bed as he continued to fuck me. His body slammed against my ass as he drove into me.
I was there, right there with him.
“Fuck, Lark.” His simple, guttural outcry forced me over the edge. My inner muscles clamped down hard around him. I circled my hips, begging for more.
“You feel so fucking good.” Wyatt stilled as he came, and when I squeezed down on him, he groaned louder. He collapsed on me, his dick pulsing and spasming inside me. I tilted my hips.
“No. Stop. Don’t move. It’s too good.”
I stifled a laugh as he stroked my side and kissed my shoulder. His heart hammered against me, and he was as breathless as I was. We stayed, locked together, catching our breath for long moments.
He laughed and my chest squeezed. I’d grown to love that sound. “You’re trying to kill me, woman.”
Leaning to the side, Wyatt rolled, slipping from me and onto his back. His hand was on his chest as it rose and fell with every labored breath. I propped my head on my elbow, energized by my own orgasm. A sliver of moonlight slanted through his window and washed the bedroom in pale light. It cut across the floorboards and allowed enough light to see his satisfied smile.
His hand trailed up my thigh, catching the remnants of his orgasm as it seeped out of me. “So fucking hot.” His thick fingers teased my pussy. He wasn’t shy, but rather proud, of the mess we had made together.
I pressed my knees together, capturing his hand, and I pointed up at him with a smile. “You are so filthy.”
He winked at me and stood. “Baby, you have no idea.”
Wyatt returned quickly with a warm, wet washcloth and made quick work of cleaning us both up. As he smoothed the warm cloth over my body, he whispered sweet compliments and dotted kisses along my sensitive skin.
Then he lay on his bed and gathered me close, holding me against him. I listened as his heart thumped against his ribs as he stroked my back.
With Wyatt I was warm. Safe.
My limbs were heavy, and I cuddled into his protective warmth. He worked so hard to make me feel wanted and cared for. A surge of protectiveness swelled in me.
His grumpiness. The wariness and mistrust of new people. The more I got to know him, the more it made perfect sense.
He’d learned to protect himself.
I shifted to rest my chin on my hands as I looked up at him. His face was calm, but his eyes stayed pinned to the ceiling.
“Hey.”
He looked down at me, and a soft smile lifted his lips. “Hey.”
I scooted up to kiss him, to pour into him every ounce of affection and appreciation I felt for him. For us.
I was falling for Wyatt Sullivan.
Hard.
