Chapter Forty-One
“One more shot,” Evan cries as he thrusts a tiny glass into my hand. I eye the clear liquid and the empty one I did hours ago, knowing from experience that Evan’s choice of liquor is not great.
“No thanks.” I slide it back across the table in front of me.
“Boo,” he whines, then picks up the glass and tosses back the alcohol. He screws up his face as it goes down, shaking his head like a dog and smacking his hand down on the countertop. “Wow. I know I said one more, but I think I need another.”
I watch as he slides off his stool, stumbling slightly as he makes his way to the bar.
“Is he okay?” I ask Pippa, finding the same look of concern I’m feeling etched on her face.
“I have no idea,” she says, frowning when he bashes into some guy waiting in line. He turns around and sneers at Evan, which has Pippa gasping. “Shit, I better go get him.”
“I’ll go,” I say, heading for her drunken partner who, if he’s not careful, is going to get his ass kicked. Professional athlete or not. “Come, Evan, let’s get you to bed.”
He pouts before reaching up and bopping me on the nose. “No can do, Mr. Sexy Pilot Man. As much as I’d rock your world, I’ve got my eye on someone else.” His face falls. “I think.”
I sigh, refraining from pinching the bridge of my nose. So he’s in this state over some girl.
What is it about me that gives off relationship expert for the inebriated? First Bowie, now Evan?
“Let’s go, buddy. I’m sure it will be fine when you call her sober tomorrow.”
“Him,” Evan states, sliding an arm around my waist and leaning his head on my shoulder.
“Huh?”
“Him. Not her.” He tries to rear back but loses his footing. Grabbing his arm, I catch him before he careens into an empty table covered in glasses. “Is that a problem?”
“No, it’s not a problem,” I say, trying not to snarl. I’m too old for this shit. Looking after drunk assholes when I’d rather be in the hotel room, balls deep in my girl, is not my idea of fun. I fling his arm around my shoulder and take most of his weight, moving him along. “My brother’s gay.”
“Does he look like you?” Evan asks, his eyes hazy from the alcohol.
“I guess.”
“Oh, set me up,” he drawls, burping right in my ear.
I cringe, turning away from his face, the smell of tequila wafting from his lips. “I thought you had your eye on someone else?”
He lets out a long and exhausted breath. “Yeah, but his are closed.”
Pippa’s chewing on her thumb by the time we reach the table, which, given that we’re so close to the bar, took longer than necessary with Evan and his two drunk left feet.
“Is he okay?” she asks, watching as his head lolls to the side.
“Bit too much to drink, but he’ll be fine,” I tell her. Using my head, I nod toward the elevators. “Let’s get him to his room, yeah?”
Shifting off her stool, she grimaces as I try to get Evan to walk. “Do you want help?”
Tightening my grip, I take more of his weight. “It would be easier if I could throw him over my shoulder, but I don’t want to make a scene,” I say. “Grab his room key for me?”
Digging in his pocket, she pulls out this wallet and finds the white plastic room card tucked inside.
If I thought moving him from the bar to the table was hard, walking him across a busy lobby is damn near impossible. Not only does he not want to walk, but now and then, he gets a second wind, trying to wriggle out of my hold and speak to different athletes.
“God, he’s a mess. I’ve never seen him like this before,” Pippa says as we step into the elevator, and she presses the button for his floor.
“Nothing a couple Tylenol and a bottle of water won’t fix.”
She brushes back his hair from his forehead. “You big dummy,” she whispers. “It was your idea to go out celebrating, and you’ve barely lasted half the night.”
“Not that I’m complaining,” I mutter under my breath, staring straight ahead at the doors.
“Did you not want to go out?” she asks quizzically and slowly lowers her hand.
I shrug, but the dead weight that is Evan makes it hard. “I didn’t mind, but I know what I would have rather been doing than watching your friend get shit-faced.”
“Oh really?” she purrs, coming closer and pressing her body to mine as best she can. “And what’s that?”
I’m about to whisper one of the many things I’d rather have done tonight, when Evan lifts his head, his eyes wide open, his body rigid. “I’m going to be sick.”
“No, Evan,” Pippa cries, rubbing his stomach. “Not here. We’re almost in your room, hold on.”
At that second, the doors ping open and I’m carrying Evan like a baby, running down the corridor toward his room. Pippa squeezes past me, slotting the key into the door and flinging it open. I set Evan on his feet in front of the toilet just as he launches forward, hands on either side of the bowl, the sound of liquid hitting the porcelain filling the room.
I turn to walk out when Pippa stops me in the doorway. “We can’t leave him while he’s throwing up.”
“He’s your friend.”
She recoils in horror. “So? People throwing up makes me want to throw up.” Shivering dramatically, she latches onto my wrist and tugs me away from the door. “No, you have to do it. What if he chokes or slips and falls in his puke?”
I stare her down, but she doesn’t budge. Growling, I say, “Fine. But you owe me.”
She licks her lips, leaning up onto her tiptoes, her breath tickling my ear as she whispers, “I’ll let you fuck my ass.”
My cock twitches. “You drive a hard bargain.”
She reaches down and cups her hand over my pants. “Not yet, but I will.”
Whatever blood was thinking about traveling south rapidly redirects as Evan’s heaving behind us squashes any and all sexy thoughts.
Groaning, I pull myself away from Pippa as she grins. “Let’s get him sorted first.”
It takes us longer than I’d like to get Evan in bed, with a trash can by his side, painkillers and a bottle of water on his nightstand. Or maybe the thought of Pippa’s payment makes time move painfully slowly.
But eventually, we’re in her room, on the bed, naked and kissing everywhere. Pippa arches into me as my hands trail down her chest, her stomach, ghosting her thighs and making her squirm.
“I swear you’re trying to kill me,” she moans when my fingers graze the crease at the top of her legs.
“So impatient,” I tease, echoing words she’s said to me before.
“Please,” she begs. Lifting her hips, she chases my hand. “I’m ready. I want you.”
“You’re not ready,” I insist, grabbing her waist and rolling her onto her front. Moving to my knees, I pat her thigh. “On all fours, baby. Let me eat this ass until you’re a quivering mess.”
“Oh, god,” she pants, getting into position and gasping when I part her cheeks, blowing on that tight ring of muscle.
“There’s lube on the nightstand,” I tell her before running a finger through her pussy, using her arousal to rub her hole. “Although you’re that soaked, I doubt I’ll even need any.”
She stretches over at the same time I lower my face, taking my first taste of her in days. Lurching forward, she groans as I draw her hips back, probing her with my tongue. I should let her get the supplies, have them ready and waiting for me so I can sink inside her as soon as she’s prepared, but I’m far too greedy, far too addicted and consumed by her squirming for rational thoughts.
“Wyatt, I—” She’s cut off when I reach between her legs, my finger entering her tight cunt without warning, quickly joined by another as her back arches, pushing her ass farther up, and I drag my tongue from front to back.
I hum, the sound creating vibrations that drive her wild as I flutter my fingers deep inside her, while my thumb teases her asshole.
“You have no idea how good you taste,” I mutter, my tongue lapping her arousal, swallowing it ravenously before returning to her pretty pink hole, throbbing and eager, just desperate for me to fill. She wriggles against me, seeking more, but she’s not in control here. I am.
“I don’t know what I’m going to enjoy more,” I say, running my palm over the globe of her ass. “Eating it or fucking it.”
I sink my teeth into the fleshy muscle, and she yelps in delight, her pussy contracting hard around my fingers, her asshole pulsing against my thumb. Tracing my teeth marks, my fingers draw around the red indents covered in my saliva, making the primal and possessive beast inside my chest purr.
Her body shudders as I remove my fingers, paying attention to her clit, wanting to make her come, relax her before we go any further.
“Wyatt, please…” she begs as I move faster, the sound of her slick pussy making me throb painfully.
I lower myself to the bed, pressing my hips into the mattress, trying to relieve some pressure as I continue to make her body sing. I move my hand, alternating between her clit and her hole, her sexy mewls interrupted with a cry of frustration every time I switch the position, starting back up almost immediately. She’s wound that tight, letting me know she’s close. Each graze of my thumb pushes deep, not exactly penetrating, but enough to know it wouldn’t hurt if I pushed it inside.
“Wyatt,” she cries out when I leave her clit again, my name a sob coming from her pretty lips.
“Shh, baby, let me make you feel good,” I whisper against her heated skin.
“I need to come,” she whimpers. “Please, let me come, Wyatt.”
Her begging hits me square in the balls, her breathy plea such a fucking turn on that I need to bite the inside of my cheek from fear of coming like a fucking teenager. Pumping my fingers inside her once, gathering up her arousal, I coat my thumb. My digits push back inside her as I position my thumb against her hole, pushing hard enough to slip the tip past the tight barrier.
My cock is hard as stone beneath me and leaks onto the comforter. If she’s this tight around my fucking finger, imagine what she’ll be like around my cock.
I groan at the thought, barely registering Pippa bucking her hips against my hand, each ripple back pushing my thumb deeper, taking me all the way to the knuckle.
“Oh, fuck,” she moans, thrusting faster until she begins to detonate around my fingers and thumb, the pulsing matching the throbbing in my dick.
I need inside her now, but she’s not ready to take me. Needing to prep her quickly, but without the lube—which frankly is too far away at this stage—it could hurt.
I spit out a small amount of saliva, watching it land at the top of her crease, groaning as it slides down. Slowly, I pull out, sucking the fingers I had inside her pussy into my mouth, my eyes closing as I taste her before making them nice and slick. Smoothing the wetness dripping onto her hole, I massage it inside with one finger.
She pants breathlessly, turning her head, her cheek resting on the bed as she asks, “Did you just spit on me?”
“I had to improvise,” I say hoarsely, watching with fascination as she takes my finger easily, it disappearing inside her, before I add a second. She tenses as they breach her, only to relax a few seconds later with a satisfied hum.
“Why is that so hot?” she purrs as I scissor my fingers, the pressure around my digits so intense it’s making me worry she’s not going to be able to handle my cock. “Wyatt, I’m ready. Please, fuck me.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” The words come out strained, fighting the urge to just take her now with little prep. “Couple more minutes.”
“No, now,” she demands, her eyes pleading as she looks up at me, her face flushed pink.
With a growl, I withdraw from her body, and she slumps forward as I reach over to the nightstand, blanketing her as I grab the lube and a condom from the top and sheath myself in record time, kneeling behind her.
Pouring the remaining gel between her cheeks, it glistens like tiny lights showing me where to land.
She looks so fucking delectable like this, on her knees, spread out before me. I stroke my shaft languidly, running my other hand up and down her spine, watching the way her skin ripples under my touch. Shuffling forward, I press the head of my dick against her entrance, ready to push in when her soft whine has me pausing.
“Relax, baby,” I coach, kneading her hip reassuringly. “Let me in.”
I press forward again, my teeth aching as I grind them together while Pippa moans beneath me. I don’t even know if it’s from pleasure or not as I stare at the back of her head.
I can’t do it like this. I can’t fuck her from behind without seeing her face like it’s something impersonal. She’s giving me this, trusting me with something no one else has ever had. I need to see her face the entire time, read her expressions to make sure she’s enjoying every single second.
Gracelessly, I flip her over, shoving a pillow under her, tilting her up, giving me a better view. She gazes at me, and in that look, I see everything I thought I’d never have in my life.
I see her.
“Are you sure you want this?” I ask, running my cock from her pussy to her asshole, back and forth.
Pippa tilts her hips enough to catch the crown of my dick against her opening, her breath hitching when she pushes down.
“I’m sure,” she says confidently. “Fuck my ass, Wyatt.”
I can’t hold back anymore. I grasp the base of my cock, lining up and gently putting pressure there again. She gasps, her mouth dropping open slightly as her hand grabs my forearm. “Go slow, okay?”
“Yes,” I force out, because as soon as the crown disappears into her body, it’s taking everything I have to stop myself from fucking her rough and hard. The chokehold she has around me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. But I move slowly—torturously slowly—sinking inch by inch, giving her enough time to adjust to my size.
I close my eyes, trying to concentrate on anything but the feeling of Pippa’s hole sucking me deeper, contracting around me.
“You’re so tight,” I say through gritted teeth. They snap open as soon as she makes her first sound, my gaze assessing hers, looking for any pain that might cross her face.
“I feel so full,” she replies, sounding and looking a little drunk from desire as she leans her head back and her eyes roll. I’m almost fully in, and I lean down, taking her lips, offering her a distraction as I try to bottom out. Her hands immediately sink into my hair, licking into my mouth, sucking on my tongue, accepting everything I’m giving her. Moaning…biting…kissing me like a woman starved.
Pulling away, her eyes stay closed, her face blissed as my thighs meet her ass.
“Get those eyes open, baby,” I growl. My breathing is ragged as I try to control myself and the animal pacing inside its cage, ready to come out and play. Fuck her ass and make her mine in every way.
Carefully, I move my hips backward, only to push forward again, and the pleasure that shoots up my spine is like white-hot pokers.
“Oh fuck,” I growl, falling into her neck.
“More,” she pants.
“Don’t say that when I’m barely able to hold back.”
Tugging my hair up, my head going along with it, she stares at me with a fierceness in her gaze. “I was made for you, Wyatt. Don’t hold back. I can take it.”
And that’s all it takes for me to lose my mind. My hips thrust over and over, finding a rhythm that has her moaning and whimpering, taking a pleasure that is only for me. We’re caught in a haze, the euphoric high already thick and addicting as it surges through my veins. She reaches between us to rub her clit, my attention rapt on her movements as her fingers skillfully play her body.
“Tell me who owns you,” I command, wanting to hear the words she’s spoken before, needing to hear them.
“So possessive.” She laughs, but the sound quickly turns into a gasp as I flex my hips. “I’m yours, Wyatt. I’m always yours.”
She threads her fingers into her hair, her tits bouncing with every thrust, her mouth open with silent screams.
“That’s right, brat,” I pant, increasing my speed, the possessive bastard sated and happy. “You gonna come for me? Come for me when I’m fucking this perfect ass?”
“Yes, fuck, yes,” she cries just as I push a finger inside her pussy, feeling her contract around my cock and fingers all at once. I’m gone. My body shudders with a loud groan as I detonate, filling the condom with my release, my hips stuttering as it drags on and on until I think I black out.
“I fucking love you,” I say, peppering her damp neck with kisses.
“I fucking love you too,” she says on a breath, wincing as I slowly pull out of her.
My legs shake as I slide out of bed, heading into the bathroom to give my girl the aftercare she deserves. Pippa Cartwright has well and truly ruined me. And I’m one hundred percent okay with that.