Page 80 of Summer with My Sexy Ex
I can’t breathe. I’m not sure I want to.
I can subsist on Wyatt’s body and his touch, with his dick inside me and his moans to fuel me. He reaches down with one hand and brings my thigh up around his waist, letting him go even deeper inside me. He buries his other hand in my hair and yanks my head back to bare my neck.
He sounds like a man starved as he attacks the sensitive skin, his teeth scraping and biting. It hurts enough that I cry out in pain, but the pain makes me feel alive and intensifies the pleasure.
“Oh god, Wyatt, I’m going to come.”
“Only good girls get to come, Brie, and you haven’t been a good girl.” His words are stilted, and his breath is heavy. His hips piston at a fierce pace. “You come before I say you can, you won’t like what happens next.”
He looks angry. His strokes are clipped. He fucks me like he hates me. I think I’d hate me too.
My scalp stings where he pulled at my hair. “What about you?” I bury my fingers in his hair and do the same. He raises his head to look at me.
“Do you get to come, Wyatt? What kind of boy have you been?” I’m so close to coming that it’s killing me. I want to piss him off and have him lose control until he makes me come so hard, I can’t see straight.
He stops, his chest heaving, his expression furious. “Does it feel like a boy is fucking you, Bristol?”
I roll my hips, trying to get him to move again. I was so close I want to cry.
“Huh?” He yanks my hair again, a different spot this time, for a new place to hurt. “Does it?”
I can’t get the same grip on his hair that he has on mine, so I dig my fingernails into his shoulder instead. And watch as the skin around the crescent-moon shapes turns white, and the small indentations form. He grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing hard, forcing me to look at him. His eyes don’t leave mine. It’s a test of wills to see who will look away first, I won’t let it be me.
He lowers his head; I brace myself for the harsh impact I know is coming. But he stops when our lips are scarcely touching, resulting in a kiss so soft I wouldn’t believe it happened if I wasn’t experiencing it. His hand leaves my chin and trails down my neck in a caress that feels like reverence or worship. His palm cups my breast, pushing its weight up. He looks away first to watch his fingers spread around the globe he’s created. If it was a test of wills, I win. Then he pinches the nipple between two knuckles, making me moan with pleasure, and I forget why I even cared.
His hips move lazily, changing the entire vibe between us like we have all the time in the world. Slow, smooth strokes in and out, making my breath catch as every inch of him brushes against every sensitive part inside me.
Wyatt intertwines our fingers and raises our arms above my head, pinning them against the shower wall. I can’t touch him. He can’t touch me. But he’s still in total control.
My orgasm sneaks up on me with a vengeance, building faster than before. I need more of him. Now. I pull against his hands as leverage, using my core muscles to raise my other leg and wrap it around his waist. My ankles lock behind his back and I tilt my hips forward to pull him in deeper than before.
He rests his forehead against mine, breathing heavily, fucking me leisurely. His chest presses against mine; the scant hair there stimulates my nipples. The only movement between us is the languid rolling of his hips as he brings us closer to the edge of erotic oblivion.
“Please, Wyatt,” I beg.
“I got you, sweetheart.”
I plead with my eyes. Just let me come.
“Kiss me,” he commands.
I do. I kiss him with every ounce of feeling I’ve ever had for him. The desire, hate, longing, love, happiness, fear, sadness, and hope. I put it all out there for him to take in. Saying all the things that I can’t put into words. I give everything I’ve got until I’m dizzy, and my chest wants to crack open and lay my heart out for him to do with as he wishes.
That hasn’t changed in the time we’ve been apart. Wyatt Reed still has the power to destroy me. Or resurrect me.
He moves my hands to one over the other and interlinks his fingers with both, still holding them against the wall above us. His other hand moves between us to rub my clit. One swipe of his knuckle is all it takes, and I’m done for.
I let it all go.
Every reservation I’ve ever held onto. Each barrier I’d attempted to erect. The walls of doubt and delay crumble.
“Fuck yeah,” he says, breathless. “There’s my good girl.”
Wave after wave of blinding sensation barrels through me in a rush of raw emotion. A frenzied storm that crashes through any hope I may have had in maintaining a sense of self with Wyatt. He sucks me in and makes us one, floating through a sea of endless desire.
His back arches, head flings back, he pumps twice more in quick succession and groans out my name as he comes. Hearing him like this sends shockwaves through my system. I can feel his seed pulsing inside me in spurts, and for the briefest of seconds, I wonder what it would be like to have his baby.
Then I push that thought down as low as it can go and hope it never reawakens. Wanting what you can’t have only hurts more when it doesn’t come true.
