Page 63 of Because of the Dar

My retort is swallowed with his mouth on mine, and his hips thrust forward until he's fully sheathed inside of me.

I cry out at the sudden fullness, and a guttural groan comes from the guy on top of me.

"Fuck, you feel so good." He nips at my neck. My hands glide down his spine, my nails leaving marks on his skin. This man brings out a side of me I never knew I had, even with my history at The Pole. The connection between us is one of a kind, and I trust him with my body and soul. He would never hurt me—not in a way I wouldn't want him to. My teeth sink into his shoulder, and Wes grasps for my butt with both of his hands, squeezing hard, while driving his dick in and out.

I moan as he thrusts forward, filling me up, then withdrawing and repeating the motion. All I can do is hold on for the ride. And holy shit, what a ride it is. I had imagined sex with Wes so many times, but nothing prepared me for this. I'm on fire, my heart hammering in my chest, while I try to suck in the air my lungs so desperately demand to keep up with my panting. A sheen of sweat forms on his back, and I'm about to combust if I don't come soon.

"Harder," I breathe.

Wes increases his speed, and he thickens inside of me. He's as close as I am. He grunts, and his teeth find the flesh above my collarbone.

The climax hits like a wave, and I can't suppress my screams. My pussy clenches around his cock as he fills me up, and Wes's fingers dig into my ass as he drives into me one last time. My body jerks as I come down from the high, and he slumps on top of me, shuddering every few seconds.

"King-sley Mon-roe, you—" He sucks in more air.

"I what?" I giggle, loosening my grip on him and begin trailing the tips of my fingers up and down his spine.

He shivers, then sighs. "I forgot." Which makes me laugh more.

Propping himself on his elbows, our eyes meet.

He hovers above me, less than an inch of space between us. His lids close, and he whispers, "What are you doing to me?"

Our noses touch, and I let my lips feather over his. "The same thing you are doing to me."

He rests his head on my chest, and we stay like this until exhaustion pulls me to the brink of sleep. "We should probably get out of here," I murmur.

"Mhmm." He is as drowsy as I feel. Slowly, he pushes himself up, sitting on his haunches in front of the couch. Wes scans my body with such intensity that heat flares in my core once more—until he lands on a spot between my legs. He pales. "Shit."

"What?" I jackknife up, scanning my body for injuries of any kind. Then, I notice the sticky spot between my legs and understand. We didn't use a condom. Shit indeed.

My eyes fly to his, and he blurts out, "I'm clean, I swear. This, uh…" He won't look at me. "This is the first time this has ever happened."

I touch my finger to his chin and turn him to me. "I trust you. And I'm on birth control." I leave it at that. Nothing like ruining the best night I have had in years by telling him that I started taking the pill at sixteen out of fear of getting raped at my stripper job.

"You sure?" He studies me with a crease between his brows.

"Stop worrying. No harm done." I follow with a slow and gentle kiss.

He leans in, and we fall back onto the couch, his hands wandering from my hips to my breasts, and his thumb swipes over my hardening nipple.

"Wes?" I try to push against his chest, but he outweighs me by eighty-some pounds. Or more.

He trails kisses along my neck, and I feel him hardening against my core once more.

"Never mind," I breathe out, grip his ass, and force him forward.

We didit two more times that night, and I didn't get out of The Grizz until close to five that morning. The second and third times were nothing like the first. They were slow and tender. The complete opposite, yet just as mind blowing. Never in a million years would I've expected sex to be like this. The few times I'd had it was to scratch an itch, nothing more. There were no feelings involved. With Wes, I'm on constant emotional overload. I almost blurted out the L-word that night, but thankfully stopped myself in time. Our relationship—if you can call it that—is on fragile ice at best. I called him my boyfriend when I was proving my point the other day. He said I was his girlfriend, but how can that be if everything we have is built on lies? Lies I choose to ignore with every passing day. I don't remember ever being this…happy? Does that make me selfish? Yes. Do I need to tell him eventually? Also, yes. But every time I promise myself today is the day I'll come clean, I chicken out as soon as I see him.

Wes hastwo away games in a row. Of course, I knew before he mentioned them to me—previous WS-stalker and all. I had memorized the team's schedule weeks ago when Wes was still a daydream. What sucked the most was he asked me to come, and I had to decline because of work.

For the first game, Mags took time off. She was joining Chelsea, who wanted to support Mack, on the road. There was no way Mags was going to let her little sister drive by herself, not with the chance of snow. It was a two-hour drive, and the roads through the mountains were awful, especially at night and without spiked tires. I didn't bother asking Grizz. Instead, I promised Wes I'd request the following Friday off work and join Kiwi that weekend.

It's Tuesday,and everyone is hanging out at The Grizz during my shift to celebrate Kiwi landing a new client. He and his business partner recently sold several pieces to the Mountain Club, a private community where the rich (and famous) settle in the area. It isüberexclusive, and you can't even drive up to the properties without an invitation that puts you on "the list." I am so proud of him.

The bar is ridiculously packed, and I haven't had a chance to say hi to my friends—or boyfriend.

Boyfriend. The concept is surreal to me.

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