Page 121 of Fly Boy
“I’m sure,” she says confidently. “Fuck my ass, Wyatt.”
I can’t hold back anymore. I grasp the base of my cock, lining up and gently putting pressure there again. She gasps, her mouth dropping open slightly as her hand grabs my forearm. “Go slow, okay?”
“Yes,” I force out, because as soon as the crown disappears into her body, it’s taking everything I have to stop myself from fucking her rough and hard. The chokehold she has around me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. But I move slowly—torturously slowly—sinking inch by inch, giving her enough time to adjust to my size.
I close my eyes, trying to concentrate on anything but the feeling of Pippa’s hole sucking me deeper, contracting around me.
“You’re so tight,” I say through gritted teeth. They snap open as soon as she makes her first sound, my gaze assessing hers, looking for any pain that might cross her face.
“I feel so full,” she replies, sounding and looking a little drunk from desire as she leans her head back and her eyes roll. I’m almost fully in, and I lean down, taking her lips, offering her adistraction as I try to bottom out. Her hands immediately sink into my hair, licking into my mouth, sucking on my tongue, accepting everything I’m giving her. Moaning…biting…kissing me like a woman starved.
Pulling away, her eyes stay closed, her face blissed as my thighs meet her ass.
“Get those eyes open, baby,” I growl. My breathing is ragged as I try to control myself and the animal pacing inside its cage, ready to come out and play. Fuck her ass and make her mine in every way.
Carefully, I move my hips backward, only to push forward again, and the pleasure that shoots up my spine is like white-hot pokers.
“Oh fuck,” I growl, falling into her neck.
“More,” she pants.
“Don’t say that when I’m barely able to hold back.”
Tugging my hair up, my head going along with it, she stares at me with a fierceness in her gaze. “I was made for you, Wyatt. Don’t hold back. I can take it.”
And that’s all it takes for me to lose my mind. My hips thrust over and over, finding a rhythm that has her moaning and whimpering, taking a pleasure that is only for me. We’re caught in a haze, the euphoric high already thick and addicting as it surges through my veins. She reaches between us to rub her clit, my attention rapt on her movements as her fingers skillfully play her body.
“Tell me who owns you,” I command, wanting to hear the words she’s spoken before,needingto hear them.
“So possessive.” She laughs, but the sound quickly turns into a gasp as I flex my hips. “I’m yours, Wyatt. I’m always yours.”
She threads her fingers into her hair, her tits bouncing with every thrust, her mouth open with silent screams.
“That’s right, brat,” I pant, increasing my speed, the possessive bastard sated and happy. “You gonna come for me? Come for me when I’m fucking this perfect ass?”
“Yes, fuck, yes,” she cries just as I push a finger inside her pussy, feeling her contract around my cock and fingers all at once. I’m gone. My body shudders with a loud groan as I detonate, filling the condom with my release, my hips stuttering as it drags on and on until I think I black out.
“I fucking love you,” I say, peppering her damp neck with kisses.
“I fucking love you too,” she says on a breath, wincing as I slowly pull out of her.
My legs shake as I slide out of bed, heading into the bathroom to give my girl the aftercare she deserves. Pippa Cartwright has well and truly ruined me. And I’m one hundred percent okay with that.
Chapter Forty-Two
“Nervous?” I ask, smoothingmy hands down the front of my shirt.
Wyatt shakes his head. “No. Why? Are you?”
“No,” I say, scrunching my nose. Except my voice is an octave higher and sounds more like a question than a statement. Tugging at the bottom of my skirt, Wyatt lifts my hand, kissing my knuckles.
“Baby, he’s your dad. There’s nothing for you to be nervous about.”
“That’s easy for you… Shit, he’s here.” The coffee I drank before coming here jumps in my stomach, as I watch Dad follow a waiter, stopping to point at something across the restaurant. Pressing back in my seat, I straighten the cutlery set out before me, muttering, “Oh, thank god, he brought Nancy.”
Wyatt smirks, setting a steady hand on mine, stopping me from adjusting the glasses before standing and pulling out a chair as my stepmom approaches.
“Good morning, Captain Grant. How nice to see you again.”
