Page 74 of Wrong Pucking Player

The booming music seems to be the only thing louder than my pumping blood and rapidly beating heart.

This kiss, though, is everything I can imagine in a public space.

Deep. Intense. Passionate as fuck.

I can barely escape the captivating lips as I break the kiss to pant for air. My eyes are surely dilated, lips parts, cheeks flushed, and my thigh pressing further together when that possessive hand on my right upper thigh moves right between my legs.

If it wasn’t for my quick pressing movement, it would be doing another exploration of the thin lace panty layer of my thong that’s already drenched with my arousal.

“Actually, get me your strongest scotch and my Wildflower over here a mimosa. The sweetest one you got.”

Wyatt Cyrus.

A very sexy, possessive Wyatt Cyrus.

Who just kissed me in the middle of the bar and has his hand between my legs.

I shiver slightly at the reality unfolding before me.

“G-Got it,” the Bartender announces and is gone in a heartbeat, but I can’t focus on him or anyone around me.

My eyes, body, and soul are locked on the man who demands my utmost attention.

I never want to admit it, but Wyatt always has been my Heartbreaker King.

“How long have you been here?” I can barely get the words out, the apprehension crystal clear, yet I’m desperate to hear his answer.

To know if he was really here on my behalf or something else.

“Since you and Mickey sat at this very spot.” His voice is so deep and rough, so fucking sexy, I’d do anything for him to whisper into my ear and talk another language with that tone.

While fucking me senseless.

Wait.

He’s been here… the whole time.

The whole fucking time.

Watching.

Waiting.

“See something you like?” I taunt as I slowly lick my bottom lip. “You have to be attracted to something to sit down and watch us this entire time.”

“I caught the eye of a diamond glittering under the low lights,” he begins as he leans in close so our lips barely touch. “So glimmering. So fucking beautiful. The jewel everyone can’t wait to get a chance at.”

He tugs at my bottom lip, the pinch of pain only sending tingling waves of pleasure down to my quivering core.

“If I had to sit there and watch one more man look at what’s mine like they stand a fucking chance, I’d go insane, Xandra,” he dares to admit, then he’s kissing me again.

Deeper.

Desperately.

All while his naughty hand digs deep to press into my panties that slip between my slick folds, soaking up more of the wetness down there. Wyatt growls into my mouth, and the low predatory sound sends shivers of anticipation through me.

I don’t think we’d last going home.

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