Page 62 of The Wingman

“Yes,” I moan into his mouth and stroke his back as he powers into me, each hungry thrust pulling another orgasm from me until I’m bursting all around him again.

“Baby, I feel you. You’re so hot and wet around my cock.”

“I love your cock,” I murmur, and ride him until my orgasm subsides. The second I stop clenching, he pulls out and I grumble my disappointment. But a yelp escapes me when he flips me over and positions a pillow under my body, raising my ass to him.

“This will be a first for you,” he says, a statement not a question, but I nod in response anyway. “Fuck baby, the way you trust me with your body…”

I glance over my shoulder and his eyes are pinched tight, and his head is shaking back and forth as he scrubs his chin like I’d just given him the greatest gift in the world. My heart tumbles, reaches out to him, allows him inside—and holy hell, I can’t deny that I’m frightened by all the things this man makes me feel.

His eyes fly open, and zero in on my face. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know,” I say and lay my face on the pillow, gifting him a part of me I’ve never gifted another—and will never, ever give another. This is for Rider only.

He pours a generous amount of lubricant onto my opening, and spends a long time preparing me. I squirm, grow restless.

“Baby, I’m not taking you before you’re ready.”

“I am ready,” I counter, although I’m not sure I was ever ready for a guy like him. He works me with his finger, and while he’s trying to go slow, there is a new sense of urgency about it. I feel it too.

He finally, finally, presses his crown to my opening and I move, working to force him inside until I feel a sharp pain.

“Breathe, baby. Relax,” he says. I take a breath and he adds, “Put your fingers between your legs, and rub your clit.”

I rub myself, my mind on meltdown as sensations gather, curl in on me, and burst out from my core. He falls over my back, our wet bodies fusing together.

“I’m inside,” he says, his hot breath spilling over my back and warming all my cold places. But it’s not like he has to tell me, I feel every inch of him in my body. “Are you doing okay?”

I love his check in. “Yes,” I murmur around the lump in my throat, and move against him, my actions louder than words. He moves with me, and it’s beautiful the way he’s caring for me, running his hand along my back in a soothing manner.

“I wish you could see, babe. The way you take me is un—fucking—believable.”

“Tell me,” I say.

“Your body opened right up for me. Every time I sink in to you, and you squeeze around me, it’s…perfect.” he says and tears fill my eyes. There is no way he can’t be experiencing the same need, want…love…I’m feeling. “You’re perfect.”

I rub my clit harder, but it’s his words that send me over the precipice. I let go and he groans as my body tightens around his cock.

“Yes,” he grunts, his fingers biting into my hips for leverage as he lets go high inside me. Happy tears prick my eyes and I swallow a cry as he completely collapses on top of me, his weight pinning me, comforting me, shielding me from the world.

We stay like that for a long time, and once I’m able to breathe again, he rolls off me. He disposes of the condom, crawls back in beside me and covers us with the sheets. He’s quiet, maybe too quiet, and reflective. I want to ask what’s on his mind, but I’m almost afraid to. His breathing is still ragged, like his adrenaline hasn’t receded—like he’s in fight or flight mode.

He pulls me to him and places his hand on my chest. “Your heart is still pounding as hard as mine. Breathe with me,” he says and puts his forehead to mine. We don’t break eye contact as we take deep breaths and let them out slowly, and the moment is so intimate, maybe more intimate than anything we did so far, I fear there might not be a way to come back from it if he’s not on the same page as I am.

His throat works as he swallows and he shifts beside me, putting his arm on his head and angling me on his body so I can’t see his face.

“I’m having a surprise party for Kane this weekend,” he says, his voice flat, maybe a bit despondent.

“Lindsay mentioned it,” I say. Where is he going with this? Is he inviting me, ready to introduce me to his friends? Why does he sound so unamused? Lindsay said he was excited to surprise his brother—who swore he didn’t want a party.

“Yeah, I needed her help to get him there.”

“Right,” I say. “Kane’s in good hands with Lindsay.”

His hand drops from his forehead, his fingers brushing along my arm. “I’d…like for you to come,” he says.

My pulse jumps. Does this mean he is ready to introduce me to his friends, that he might feel more than friendship for me, too? “Ah, are you sure?”

“Yeah, Alek will be there.”

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