Page 58 of Game Face

A quiet giggle escapes my mouth.

Wyatt continues to tease my breasts, at one point rolling both nipples between his fingers and thumbs then pulling them awayfrom my body and letting his fingers snap with the pinch. I love the sting and instantly want more.

His right hand goes back to the tender touch, his thumb grazing the raw pink skin while his left palm inches down my body, pausing at the waistband of my cotton boxers. A low growl leaves his mouth as he presses his lips into the back of my neck.

“Fucking love this new fashion of yours,” he says, his hand slipping into the shorts and trailing between my legs until his fingers slide through my wet, swollen pussy. I bring both of my fists to my mouth, stifling the cry I have to let out.

“You talk in your sleep,” he says, continuing to rub his palm between my legs while his other hand kneads my breast.

“Uh huh.” My voice is faint. Those are the only sounds I’m capable of.

I want him to push inside of me so badly, but also, the long, teasing strokes are almost better. My breath starts to match his rhythm, my chest filling with a deep inhale as his fingers rub against me, then I slowly exhale as he threatens to pull his hand away. His touch, however, never leaves. I’m not sure if he teases my pussy for minutes or hours. I’m not even sure if I dream throughout it. But eventually, it all becomes too much, and I clench my thighs around his hand, trapping him to me as his finger flicks my swollen clit and I break out into shivers and my body convulses with the best orgasm of my life.

“Now, go to sleep, or I’m going to take my hand away,” he scolds, teasingly.

I move my hand down to cover his, pressing his palm into me, wanting to feel him against my still throbbing pussy. I could easily come again right now. In fact, I might. I may come all night. But first, I better get to sleep so he doesn’t make good on that threat.

Iawaken to the smell of bacon, and it pulls me out of the best dream. Wyatt and I were swimming in the ocean somewhere, laughing. We raced, and naturally, I was winning before this heavenly scent woke me up.

“Breakfast in bed. Full day ahead, so fuel up,” Wyatt says, sliding the tray over my legs and sitting on the side of the bed next to me.

I rub the sleep from my eyes then pick up a crispy piece of bacon. I can tell Wyatt made this for me. It’s his standard fare, lots of meat and scrambled eggs.

“Good?” he prompts.

“Mmm hmm,” I say, nodding and chewing.

My body aches, reminding me of my interrupted slumber last night. It pulls a smirk to my lips, and my cheeks warm with a blush. I tuck my chin and inhale the scent of Wyatt’s shirt. He put it on me at some point last night. I’ll wear it all day so I can remember everything.

“I let you sleep until nine. I figured that was only fair,” he says, leaning into me and pressing a kiss to my cheek.

“Mmm, since it was your fault I was up late, yeah. That seems fair.” I stuff another piece of bacon into my mouth and crunch down with extra bite as he glowers at me teasingly.

“Next time I’ll let you sleep.”

My mouth falls agape.

“Don’t you dare!”

His mouth tightens into a sinister grin—dimples and all. I’m so far gone for this man.

He snags a piece of bacon for himself, and I try to swat his hand away, but he gets up from the bed before I can.

“You have fifteen minutes to get to the arena. Your mom is getting Otis ready.”

Shoot, fifteen minutes used to feel like a lot, but now it sometimes takes me that long to get to the front door. Heeding his warning, I shovel a few more bites of egg into my mouth, then nudge the tray in his direction so he can move it to the dresser.

I push my blanket down my legs and twist so I can sit with my legs hanging off the side. My walker is near the bed, so I use it to brace myself as I attempt to stand. Wyatt hovers close by, and I can see him gesturing to help me in my periphery.

“I’ll call an audible if I need you,” I say, putting it in language he can understand. I did the same thing with my dad. Wyatt laughs.

“Fair.”

I wrap my wrists into the straps I’ve started using to help me get a better grip on the walker. It keeps my hands from getting tired. Grip strength is a new goal for me. It takes me a few seconds to situate myself to a decent standing position before making my way to the dresser, where my mom has put most of my clothes into the top two drawers. I pull out a soft sports bra and a clean pair of undies, along with some loose joggers. I could spend a few minutes working my shirt off myself, but since it’s Wyatt in here and nobody else, I look him in the eyes and nod.

“The thing about audibles is they’re usually audible,” he teases.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to shout, ‘come strip me’ in case my dad’s close by.”

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