Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
OWEN
From that twinkle in her eye, I’m prepared for Wyatt to play with me.
But I am not prepared for the moment she walks back into the kitchen wearing my high school varsity letterman jacket.
And nothing else.
The jacket is entirely too big for her, which is a real shame, because it means the red-and-black hem rests just below the curve of her ass. The black leather sleeves fall well past her hands, and the only exposed skin is the thin, milky-white column from her neck down to the band of her lace panties.
I set the wine bottle down with a dull thud, because I don’t trust myself to pour with this woman standing in front of me. I can practically hear the blood rushing through my body, all heading in one direction.
“I figured you’d go for the sweatpants,” I say, my tongue feeling thick in my mouth.
She smirks. “I had a moment alone in your bedroom. You think I wasn’t going to do a little snooping?”
“Seems like you found something interesting.” Last year my dad turned the room in his house where Felix and I once slept into a home gym to help with rehab from his accident. He delivered boxes of our high school memorabilia early one Saturday morning, and I remember thinking, What the hell am I supposed to do with all this shit?
I’ve never been so thankful for the pang of nostalgia that made me put it all away in my closet.
“I did.” Wyatt pokes her delicate hand out one of the sleeves and runs her finger along the red felted letter on the breast and the little black, red, and white emblems sewn onto it. “Baseball and soccer, huh? I didn’t know you played soccer. And is this one cross-country?”
I nod, my breath already ragged. I work to get control of myself, even though my teenage fantasy is standing in front of me.
“And this one?” Her finger lands on a little circle with a torch embroidered on it, just over where I imagine her nipple must be, pebbled and pink beneath the jacket.
“National Honor Society,” I tell her, my voice gravelly as I struggle to control my breathing. I grip the counter, partially to keep me upright, partially to keep me from hurdling this kitchen island and pressing her against the wall.
The corner of her full red lip quirks, her eyebrow arching sharply. “You were the valedictorian, weren’t you?”
All I can do is nod, my eyes following that finger, which is now running up the stretch of bare skin between the buttons. Well, bare save for the black scrollwork that spreads beneath the jacket and dips down to her sternum. I can see now that it’s a network of curling stems and leaves, dotted with little flowers that look like stars. I want nothing more than to peel that jacket off her body and appreciate the whole canvas.
“Such a good boy,” she purrs. “I was busy smoking under the bleachers while you hit home runs and did logarithms or whatever.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“Math was never my best subject,” I confess.
“Poor baby, what did you get, a B?”
I laugh, but I shake my head. Wyatt laughs.
“Oh my god, Owen. Straight A’s? Of course,” she teases. “I sure would have liked trying to corrupt you.”
“I don’t think you would have had to try very hard,” I say.
Her eyes leave mine only to follow the trail of her finger as it hooks into the opening of the jacket, just next to the varsity letter. She slowly— so slowly—drags it open until I finally see that pretty pink nipple…and the silver ring through it.
“Would you have let me wear your letter jacket?”
I swallow hard, using every bit of control I have to keep myself still. I know I have to let her come to me, but fuck, I want to rush her, take that nipple between my lips, the ring between my teeth. I want to throw her over my shoulder and march her to my bedroom.
But I stay stone still.
“Only so I could take it off of you,” I say.
She hums, dragging her finger in a lazy circle around her nipple, then pausing to give the ring a gentle tug. My cock throbs, practically reaching for her.
“You sure this is what you want?” she asks, raising her hooded eyes back to mine. She slips the jacket down over her other shoulder to reveal the matching ring in her other nipple, the constellation of stars tattooed just over her breast. I watch her, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, a study in contrasts between the milky-white skin and the bold swirls of ink, the soft swell of her breasts and belly and the glint of the metal rings in her nipples and navel.
She looks tough and…delicate.
And I want her.
Wyatt sinks her teeth into her full bottom lip, just barely suppressing a smile. But the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I can almost feel her slight intake of breath, how she holds it, before her voice comes out husky and low. “I can’t be your girlfriend, Owen.”
I nod.
“Then I won’t be your boyfriend, Wyatt,” I tell her evenly. I sense we’re standing before the last hurdle. She wants to be sure. “I’m just here to figure out what you want and then give it to you.”
She releases her lip from her teeth, her smile spreading wide, her eyes crinkling wickedly.
She crooks one finger.
“Then get over here,” she says.
I need no other invitation. I haven’t moved so fast since I stole home to win the state championship senior year. In no time, I’m around the island and have her in my arms, her back pressed against the wall, my lips covering hers, swallowing the delicate oof and then the moan that escapes her.
Wyatt tastes like sugar and sass, and I’m ravenous for her. I push the jacket farther down her arms, settling it in the crook of her elbows so I can finally explore those tattoos that have been taunting me for months.
“Beautiful,” I say as I trace one swirling vine with my tongue, deviating only to journey down to her nipple. I flick one of the delicate silver rings before taking it between my teeth and tugging. “These are a good surprise.”
She moans in response.
“You’ll tell me if I hurt you?” I say into her skin, my fingers toying with the other ring.
“Well, that’s a little bit the point,” she says.
I groan and pull her nipple back into my mouth, sucking her, flipping the ring with my tongue. I’m rewarded with a full, deep-throated moan.
“You’re sure Felix isn’t coming home?” she pants as I lavish her art with my mouth.
I pause. He said he wasn’t, but with Felix you can never be sure. And I’m not about to be interrupted. Which means I can’t spread her across the kitchen island and feast on her how I want.
In answer, I bend my knees, wrapping my arms low around her ass, and lift. She lands over my shoulder in a fluid movement.
“I can walk,” she says with a laugh as I march down the hall toward my bedroom.
“Not fast enough,” I reply.
I pause only long enough to slam the bedroom door and turn the lock. Then I heave her onto the bed, where she lands with a bounce and a giggle.
“I’m really torn, because as much as I’d like to climb onto this bed and edge you until you’ve forgotten your name, I’ve also been dreaming about being inside of you since January,” I tell her as I shed my T-shirt. I revel in the way her eyes travel down the expanse of my chest, glad I’ve managed to hit the weight bench in the garage lately. She looks like she wants to lick the ridges on my chest, and I want to let her. “So if you don’t object, I’d really like to fuck you right now.”
“No objections from me.”
She props herself up on her elbows, the jacket falling open so once again I can take in the full expanse of her.
Well, almost.
I hook my thumbs into the lace waistband of her panties and drag them down over the black illustrations on her thighs and calves, brushing my lips over each one as I go.
“So fucking beautiful,” I whisper, moving back up to the apex of her thighs. And when I can’t help but dip my tongue between her folds to taste her, I’m rewarded with more sweetness. “And so wet.”
Wyatt moves to shed the jacket, but I press my hand into her sternum, lowering her down onto the bed.
“Leave it on,” I say, then remove my jeans and boxer briefs. My erection springs free as I tower over her, and I’m reminded that in all these months of sexual tension and teasing and frustration, Wyatt has only felt me through my pants. I pause, fisting the hard length, and watch her tongue dart out to sweep across her bottom lip.
“If I’d known that’s what you were working with, I don’t think I’d have let you out of that chemistry classroom last night,” she says.
I laugh as I move to the nightstand and take a condom out of the drawer. I love that she can make me laugh like this even when I’m hard and aching for her.
“This will be a whole hell of a lot more comfortable than an aluminum countertop,” I tell her. I grab a pillow and then a handful of her ass, lifting her hips so I can slide it beneath her. Then I press my hands to her knees, opening her to me completely. I run the pad of my thumb up the glistening length of her opening, circling her clit and then back to her entrance. She moans and arches into my hand.
“I thought you were saving the teasing for later,” she pleads.
“I’m going to fuck you, Wyatt,” I say, dipping my thumb just inside her. “But I’m not about to neglect you.”
I hover above her, one hand pressed into the mattress just beside her cheek. Then I lower to capture her mouth, parting her lips. She tangles her tongue with mine, like a more intimate version of the rapid-fire banter we’ve been trading all these months. I’m so lost in the kiss that when the swollen head of my cock brushes against her warm, wet entrance, I gasp.
“Fuck, Wyatt, I’ve wanted you for so long.” I’m practically trembling. She lifts her hips, tilting into me so I slide across her clit. “I just want to give you everything .”
Wyatt stills. She reaches up and grabs my chin between her thumb and forefinger, angling my face sharply to meet her gaze.
“Owen,” she says. Her voice is stern, but there’s the tiniest quiver there. Just the smallest hitch. I hold my breath, waiting to hear what she wants from me. Her brow is knitted, but a smile unfurls across her face. “Fuck me like I’m not your girlfriend.”
Her tone, her eyes, the way her thighs grip my hips as I hover over her—it snaps every last bit of my control. When she reaches down and wraps her hand around my cock, guiding me, I lock on to her eyes and press my hips forward, sinking into her in one smooth, tight glide.
Wyatt cries out, head thrown back as she wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me closer, deeper. Her lips are parted and ruby red, and a flush climbs her chest, painting her tattoos like watercolor.
I want to kiss her so bad I can taste it. Can taste her . The flavor of Wyatt Hart will probably never leave my mouth.
But that’s not what she wants.
And I’m in the giving-Wyatt-Hart-what-she-wants business.
So I pull back and snap my hips, rolling at the base of her so her clit hums along my pelvis.
“Oh my god,” she moans, urging me on with her ankles locked at my lower back. “Please, just like that.”
I thrust and roll, thrust and roll, my eyes roaming her body. Part of me is terrified that despite our agreement, she’s never going to let me see her like this again. That this will be my only chance to watch the column of her neck as she tips her chin up in ecstasy. That I won’t get another opportunity to see how her nipple rings glint in the lamplight, shimmering each time I push into her. That I’ll never again get see the lavender streaks in her curls splayed out on my bedsheets. She is the most erotic sight I’ve ever seen, and it’s taking every fiber of control in my body to keep from spilling inside her before she comes.
I lower down to one elbow so I can tug on her nipple rings with my lips, the other hand drifting down the curve of her petite breast, the dip of her belly, and the contour of her hip, before playing across her body to find her clit. I fuck her hard, just like she wants, but I stroke the delicate bundle of nerves softly, delicately, as if I can tell her how I feel about her with my touch.
I won’t fuck her like she’s my girlfriend, but she’ll come like she is.
Her breath is growing ragged, her body writhing as these incredible little moans pour out of her.
Her orgasm is close. I can feel it from the way her nails dig into my skin and the fluttering of her inner muscles around my cock. And just as I can feel that she’s on the brink of coming apart, her lips drop open and her eyes drift shut.
I raise myself onto my palm so I can watch the way her body reacts, my other hand still working her clit. I’m desperate to see her, for her to let me watch. But even though I want to beg her to open her eyes, to look at me, I let her have this small bit of distance. As much as I want her to open herself to me, I know she needs this one wall.
I told her I’d take her however she was willing to give herself to me, and I meant it.
So I watch her come apart, her eyes closed, as I guide her through the explosive peak of her orgasm. She lets out a soft scream, her lips forming my name as she shudders through her release.
And when she’s finally undone, her hands clenched around my forearms, chest heaving, then her eyes flutter open. Her gaze meets mine, her emerald eyes alight.
She holds me with those eyes.
And that’s the moment I follow her over the edge.