Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 16116 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16116 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
I grab his shirt and pull him down to me, surprising both of us with my boldness. His keys clatter to the ground as he presses me against the door, his mouth hot and demanding on mine. I wrap my arms around his neck, needing to be closer.
He fumbles with the door handle behind me, and suddenly we're stumbling inside, a tangle of limbs and desperate breaths. The door slams shut behind us.
"I've been thinking about this since the clearing," I whisper against his mouth.
A growl rises from his chest as he lifts me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist. "Been thinking about it longer than that, baby."
The endearment sends a shiver through me. He carries me across the room, pressing me against the wall beside his photographs. My back arches as his lips trail down my neck, his beard tickling my sensitive skin.
"Can I?" His hands hover at the hem of the flannel shirt that I'm wearing. His flannel shirt.
I lift my arms. "Please."
He tugs it over my head, leaving me bare except for the boxers. His eyes darken as they roam over me, making me feel beautiful rather than exposed.
"Look at you. So fucking perfect."
His hands cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples. I gasp, my head falling back against the wall. When his mouth replaces his hands, I thread my fingers through his hair, holding him to me.
"Wyatt, please, I need—"
"Tell me," he says against my skin. "Tell me what you need."
"You. Inside me. Now."
He groans, fumbling with his belt. I help him push his jeans down, my eyes widening at the sight of him. Big does not do it justice. It won't fit. He notices my expression and pauses.
"We don't have to—"
"No, I want to," I say. "I want you."
His eyes search mine for any hesitation, then presses me back against the wall. With one arm supporting me completely, he uses his free hand to push the boxers aside.
"You're so wet," he says, his voice strained as he runs his fingers through my folds. "Is this all for me?"
I nod frantically, beyond words.
"I need to hear you say it, baby."
"Yes, Wyatt. All for you."
Wyatt positions himself at my entrance, eyes locked on mine. "Tell me if anything hurts or feels wrong."
I nod again, my heart pounding with anticipation.
He pushes into me slowly, inch by inch, giving me time to adjust. It's been so long, and he's so big that there's a slight burn, but it's overshadowed by the pleasure building inside me.
"You okay?" he asks, his voice tight with restraint.
"More than okay. Don't stop."
When he's fully seated inside me, we both groan. He stays still for a moment, forehead pressed to mine, our breaths mingling. I feel so full and stretched but all in a good way.
"You feel incredible, baby. So tight, so perfect around me."
His words send heat spiraling through me. "Move, please. I'm about to go crazy."
He withdraws slowly, then thrusts back in, setting a steady rhythm that has me gasping with each stroke. My nails dig into his shoulders as he hits a spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.
Oh God.
"There," I cry out. "Right there."
"I've got you." He adjusts his angle to hit that spot repeatedly. "That's it, baby. You're taking me so well."
His praise washes over me, heightening every sensation. I'm getting close again, my inner muscles tightening around him. A coil of tension rolls through me, and I circle my hips and grind, meeting his upward strokes.
"You gonna come for me again?" he asks, his thrusts becoming more urgent. "Let me feel you."
His hand slips between us, thumb teasing my clit with just the right pressure. The dual stimulation pushes me over the edge, and I come with a cry, clenching around him.
"Fuck, Emma," he groans, his rhythm faltering. "So good, so perfect."
A few more thrusts and he follows me over, his face buried in my neck as he pulses inside me. We stay like that, panting against each other, his arms still holding me up even as his legs shake slightly.
When our breathing slows, he carefully lowers me to my feet, keeping a steadying arm around my waist. His expression is so tender it makes my chest ache.
"You good?" he asks, pushing a strand of hair from my face.
I laugh breathlessly. "I'm amazing. You?"
He lifts the corner of his mouth. "My knees are about to give out because I've never come that hard before."
"Me too. I feel like I can't walk anymore."
Wyatt chuckles and plants a soft kiss on my forehead, making my stomach flutter.
After cleaning up, I pull his shirt back on, loving how it smells like him. He tugs me into a kiss that's gentler than before but no less affecting.
"Hungry?" he asks against my lips.
As if on cue, my stomach growls loudly. I pull back, mortified, but Wyatt just laughs—a deep, rich sound that I immediately want to hear again.