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“And I didn’t agree to you ending us. Now strip. When you’re in my bed, you’re either naked or you’re wearing one of my shirts.”
I could feel his breath against my face as I stared into his whiskey eyes and felt a tug deep in my belly.
“What happens if I don’t?” I whispered.
He framed my head with his strong arms, making me feel both protected and weak at the same time. The smirk fell from his lips as he searched my face, his focus dropping to my mouth.
The tug in my belly tightened, but I couldn’t kiss him. I wasn’t ready. Not like this.
He lowered his mouth to mine just the same, but at the last second, I turned my face.
His lips landed on my jaw which didn’t seem to deter him. His tongue came out, tracing a path down my neck, but he was stopped by my hoodie. I felt his smile against my jaw as my breath hitched.
“I don’t think you’re ready to find out what I’d do if you don’t.” He lifted off me, staring down while I returned his gaze.
I should move—strip like he said—but my limbs were frozen. Being in his bed, smelling that familiar intoxicating scent he always carried, was overwhelming me. It had a hint of leather mixed in now, and I wished I hated it, but I didn’t.
There was a warning in Wes’s eyes as he watched me lie motionless under him. I knew I’d likely regret what happened next, but there was also a small piece of me that wanted to curl into this moment, like a voyeur just watching from a dark spot in my mind. There would always be that little girl who found refuge in his treehouse, and that same girl eventually realized the peace wasn’t the space, but the person. Wes calmed all the storms, so if he wanted to raise a little hell then I’d wanted to be on the receiving end.
His lips returned to my skin, marking me in new ways that felt feverish.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, River.” His voice was rough against my stomach as he shoved my hoodie up.
His touch was a thing I’d been starved for, and I wanted to indulge, even if I knew it wasn’t smart. Even if this would tear at the scar along my heart. Which is why when my leggings were tugged down, I didn’t protest.
Hot breath washed over my mound as Wes slipped the silky underwear down my hips, stopping at my thighs. My sex was completely exposed to him, and with my fists clenching the sheets, I didn’t care. I wanted all barriers gone so I could lift my leg, toss it over his shoulder, and grind into him. His hands slid under my ass, pulling me until his nose was hovering over my slit. With those eyes on me, his tongue slowly traced down my center. I was already wet, and as soon as he pried me open, he moaned as if he'd just tasted the proof.
His teeth scraped against my clit, forcing my breathing to become labored, my chest heaving. I needed more, but I knew if I asked, or begged, he’d get exactly what he wanted. This was him delivering a punishment for not obeying him. He knew I wouldn’t be able to resist him if he did this, so I kept my fingers out of that thick hair and gripped the sheets instead.
Flattening his tongue, he lapped at my clit in slow strokes, which had my thighs clenching the sides of his face, and a whimper cascading up through my chest. Smiling against my thigh, he repeated the movement, torturing me with the tip of his tongue. He swirled and circled, drawing out gasps and moans from me. I was nearly there when Wes suddenly stopped and removed his mouth from me completely. I opened my eyes to see where he’d gone, but all I caught was sculpted muscle, shadows vying for space along his torso as he stood and stared down at me with a predatory gaze.
I should take the opportunity and stop him, but my tongue was tied with need, nearly about to combust if he didn’t finish what he’d started. So, when he grinned wickedly at me and then gripped me roughly by the hips to turn me face down, I didn’t object. The roughness of the sheet against my face somehow added to the hollow need aching between my legs. I was desperate for his touch in whatever form it might come.
A light slap landed on my ass, followed by a soothing stroke and a low sound from his throat.
“How are you still so perfect?”
I tried to look over my shoulder, but his hand came out and held my face firm against the mattress.
“Hands above your head, Callie.”
I did as he said, too desperate for his touch to argue. My fingers dug into the sheets above me, and then my knees were guided up.
I could only track him in my periphery now that my hands were in front of me, but it must not have been enough for him because he pushed my hoodie down until it was over my arms and covering my face. I could still breathe, but I couldn’t see anything. The thrill of not being able to visualize what he was doing shot straight to my core, making my hips move backward.
Another slap landed on my ass as he chided me.
“No moving, just sit there with your ass up. Let me play.”
I tried to hold still, but the space between my thighs was wet, my core ached, and I needed him to touch me.
With a firm grip, he spread me wide and made a groaning sound before dragging his finger along the sensitive hole there. Teasing the tightness, he played for moments before slipping lower. I cut out a sharp breath at how intrusive his fingers were, but the friction was divine.
“Soaked, Callie. Fucking soaked,” he rasped quietly before pressing a kiss there.
My hips rocked against his mouth, desperate for contact, when his mouth left me again.
“You’re not listening very well.” Another slap landed, followed by another, certain to turn my ass red. But I was so turned on that all I could do was moan.
