Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
The throb between my legs blares when I realize that Wyatt is leaking.
Not only that. He’s hard.
This man is an animal. The only animal I’ve ever encountered that I can’t wrangle. Wrong that I love that about him?
He’s awake.
He presses a quiet, hot kiss to my shoulder. A full-body shock wave of need moves through me, my breath catching as his mouth works its way up the column of my neck.
How did I get so turned on while I was sleeping? Because I am ready to go after a single kiss.
Reaching behind me, I find him and wrap my fingers around his length. He’s definitely hard, hot to the touch, and I slick my thumb over his head before giving him a slow, easy pull.
In reply, Wyatt cups my breast in one hand and glides the other underneath my rib cage and then between my legs. I see stars when he plucks my nipple at the same time he parts me with his fingers.
The caress is gentle, a little sleepy even, but my body still comes to life at his touch. He lets out a quiet groan when his fingers find my slickness. He circles my clit once, twice, and it feels so good that I roll over to face him and lift my leg, draping it over his hip. I take his dick in my hand and guide it to my center.
He hesitates. You sure?
I press my hips down so that he slips inside me. I’m sure.
Then he’s rolling his big body on top of mine. I’m on my back, spread-eagled, when he impales me on a deep, unhurried thrust, sinking to the root.
I close my eyes against a blinding flash of pain.
Reading me like a book, Wyatt goes still. He leans his forehead against mine and waits one heartbeat, then another, before he thrusts again, gentler this time.
The pain dissipates. Pleasure rises in its wake.
I’m close, and I want to come with him inside me, so I snake a hand between us and play with myself.
Wyatt blows out a breath. I circle my hips, meeting him at the apex of his strokes. He still goes slow, just deeper now. He’s steady. Controlled. I run my free hand over his chest, his stomach, his side, marveling at the way the huge muscles there bunch and release as he moves.
He is so fucking sexy.
I don’t chase my orgasm for long. I find it when Wyatt casually throws my leg over his shoulder, deepening the angle of his thrusts. It hurts.
It’s the best thing I’ve felt in my entire life.
My fingers make shallow, rapid circles over my clit as the release washes over me. My heartbeat dissolves into my skin, racing, throbbing.
Wyatt grunts, and then I feel the now-familiar sensation of being filled with warmth.
When he pulls out of me, a rush of cum seeps from the place where our bodies were joined.
He doesn’t say a word when he kisses my mouth.
Not a word when he helps me out of bed and cleans me up with a towel after I use the bathroom.
Really, is there anything left for us to say that our bodies haven’t?
It’s still dark when a sound wakes me.
I hear a soft rustling, and when my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see Wyatt’s hand working underneath the covers.
I can’t help but smile, even as my heart twists. He doesn’t want to wake me. And I know he’s worried that I’ll be too sore to go for another round.
Grinning, I gently toss aside the covers and swat his hand away. Then I lean in and take him into my mouth. He growls, dropping an arm over his face as he lets out a series of discombobulated sounds.
When his hips start to jerk, I sit up and straddle his pelvis. I hold his hand, using it for support as I sink slowly onto his cock.
He twines our fingers when I take him to the hilt with a small cry. He gives my hand a gentle squeeze.
You’re okay. We’re okay.
He puts his other hand on my hip and guides my body up and down, up and down, a slow rhythm that gradually gets faster and faster until I’m riding him hard.
I’m not sure I can take more.
But I know I’ll always, always want more with Wyatt.
The backs of my eyelids burn red.
Sunlight. A lot of it.
Oh my God, how late did I sleep?
Opening my eyes, I sit up with a start. The shutters are closed, but ardent sunshine pours through the slats anyway, coating Wyatt’s bedroom in a golden glow I can only describe as autumn coziness at its best.
Glancing at his side of the bed, I see that he’s gone. The door is closed. Was he called into work?
Shit, what if I got a call for work? I didn’t think to set an alarm since it’s the weekend, but I don’t need to when I’m staying at my parents’ house because Dad is around. He’ll wake me up if someone needs me.