Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
WELLS
Wells stared at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom and rubbed a hand on his forehead.
Think of anything—anything in the whole fucking world—other than Allison Styles.
He’d been in a state of shock since he’d closed the cottage door to her house last night.
Hadn’t slept a fucking wink because as soon as he’d start to drift off, he’d remember what she felt like around him, what she tasted like, how every nerve ending in his internal organs yearned at the thought of his tongue against hers.
He’d agreed he wouldn’t jack off on the days they were trying to conceive. The more he did it, the lower his sperm count would be.
He honestly wouldn’t mind a couple of months of trying, repeating last night again and again in a variety of positions he’d come to enjoy over the years. He’d be good though, since he wanted the end result as much as she did.
But Christ, being on your best behavior is annoying. He rubbed both hands against his face.
Restraint wasn’t a concept Wells was familiar with.
If he was hungry for something, he ate it. If something looked good, he bought it.
If he had a harebrained scheme to open a business, to change his major, to buy his stepdad’s business in a town five hours from where he lived, he did it.
It had never not worked out for him.
But now, as beads of sweat were forming on his forehead from willing his hands away from his hard cock, he thought, This might be the dumbest idea yet.
With a hissed “fuck,” he got up to start his day at 3:30 in the morning. It had snowed overnight, and he’d make himself useful clearing the porch stairs.
He tugged on winter gear and shot off a text to Allison for her to see when she woke up.
WELLS
Still on for tonight? 8:30 okay?
He pocketed his phone and tried to get her out of his mind. After thirty minutes of shoveling, he shook the snow off his gloves as he felt his pocket vibrate.
Who the hell was texting him at 4:00 in the morning?
ALLISON
You’re up early.
I’ll be damned.
WELLS
Couldn’t sleep. You?
Me neither.
Was it the same reason as him?
Everything…okay? Regrets?
His finger had hovered over the send button, but he’d sent it anyway.
No…
A breath whooshed out in relief, but the animated dots of her typing kept going and going.
Stopping and then going again.
He felt himself holding his breath in the pitch-black night in fifteen-degree weather.
The opposite
His heartbeat landed hard in his ears.
Flashes of her rumpled in bed as she texted him came to mind. Warm and soft. Her long legs wrapped in the blankets and the curve of her tits peeking out from under the covers.
What she’d look like if his head was between her thighs under those blankets with her adorable frowning face nearing climax.
So much for distracting his aching cock.
He had an hour and a half before the diner opened, and they probably wouldn’t have a customer until 7:00.
Fuck it.
WELLS
Can’t stop thinking about it.
How could he convince her to let him come over? Get a head start on round two?
ALLISON
There are probably less people up to see you come over right now if you’re up anyway.
Before he’d finished reading the sentence, he’d already stalked over to his car, wanting her so badly he couldn’t see straight.
Fuck, was he really that far gone? He’d been with plenty of women, but letting himself go there with her? To the kink he rarely shared?
He hadn’t felt that free or that all-consuming desire in a long time.
Maybe ever.
WELLS
Be there in five. No talking. Panties off.
He was a bastard; he knew this. He’d probably receive a scornful text on the way over, but he knew what he wanted.
Based on last night, she seemed to like what he wanted too.
Barely stopping at the stop signs in the sleepy town, he barreled through the cobblestone streets to her house as fast as he could, hoping it would shake some sense into him.
This was just a woman he was having sex with, not even somebody he liked.
He rubbed his mouth. He hadn’t wanted to brush his teeth last night because he would miss the taste of her.
Maneuvering around a pothole, he realized he could still catch the scent of her on his fingers. He adjusted himself and tugged on his cock for some relief.
Would he fuck her from behind? Have her on top of him?
Say fuck it and have her ride his face first?
As he turned the corner to her cottage, he saw a low light on in her living room.
He wouldn’t bother knocking. He needed her now.
Walking up to the porch, he’d already unbuckled his belt like a lust-drunk madman. As his foot landed on the first step, the door swung open.
Long, bare legs led to a low-cut, thin sleep shirt that hit the tops of her thighs. It clung to every curve. The thin fabric showed her tits, her belly button in the low light of the living room.
His mouth went dry as he bounded across the porch.
He pushed the door open wider as his other hand released the latch of his belt and kicked the door closed behind him.
A step later, his hand wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling her mouth to his with a rumbling groan. She gripped his flannel shirt, pulling him closer.
Yes. Finally. Had it only been eight hours since he’d had this?
Fingers slipped through silky peach hair as he backed her against the wall of her entryway. She shoved at his coat and he wrestled it off, their mouths never leaving each other. Biting, sucking on the most perfect pair of lips he’d ever tasted.
His hand ripped at the hem of her sleep shirt, tugging it up so his fingers could find her.
No panties. He smiled against her mouth as his cock surged. Good girl.
So eager to please.
His fingers slid against her clit, and lust unexpectedly engulfed him.
“Fuck,” he moaned against her mouth. She was so wet. Soaked.
Like she’d already come.
Did she finger herself, thinking about us?
Her hand moved to his zipper, but he stopped her.
He held her gaze and slowly brought her hand to his mouth. The heady scent of her was already there.
He bit at the flesh of her palm, and she sucked in a breath. “You already came this morning?”
She nodded with wide eyes. “So you wouldn’t have to.”
He licked her fingers to get the taste of her on his tongue.
Better, he sighed. It was better when he could taste her. She whimpered as he sucked at her fingers.
He kind of hoped she never got a vibrator.
“Or…” He ran a tongue between her two fingers, and she shuddered, her nipples pebbling. “Because you couldn’t stop thinking about me fucking you.” He palmed her breast through the thin, soft material.
She gulped, leaning into him. “Yes. But you’re busy.”
His lips found hers again, needing her so bad he ached.
He backed her up against the big dresser she used as an entry table, tinkling glass from a Tiffany lamp rattling as they hit it.
His eyes bored into hers in the low light, that pouty mouth forming a pretty O-shape.
“I don’t need you to make this easier on me.
I want it as hard as you’ll make it. I can take it.
” His fingers found her clit and he drilled it mercilessly.
She gasped, curving toward him, hands gripping his arm and chest.
“Like I know you can take it,” he whispered into her ear as she moaned into his chest, hissing out a stream of “yes” and “Wells” as his fingers kept going.
She pulled his zipper down and reached in—fucking reached in his jeans like he was hers—yanking his boxers down to grab his cock.
His greedy little Miss Prim.
Fuck, he needed her now, or he was going to come in her hands.
He yanked her around, bent her over the low dresser. Tugging her shirt over her ass, their eyes connected in the mirror as he gripped her hips and sank into her.
They gasped, stilling as she clenched around him.
The hot, wet heat of her was too good.
“So thick,” she whined, clenching around him again, her hand gripping the dresser for purchase.
Fuck, he wasn’t going to last long. She was too wet, too tight.
He thrust hard, and her loose, low-cut sleep shirt fell over one shoulder. In the mirror, he had a perfect view of her shirt barely covering her tits, making his eyes cross.
Thrusting harder and harder, each one made her body look better than the last. Her ass jiggling against his thighs, her tits bouncing against the mirror she was now pushed against.
Taking it so well.
“Oh fuck that’s right, Miss Prim. You can take it all, can’t you?”
“Yes,” she sobbed again and again.
“Want this cock so badly.” He slammed into her harder, sinking in to the hilt. “Taking all of me like such a good—fucking—girl.”
She gripped the dresser with white knuckles and moaned. He chuckled. He knew she had a praise kink.
He pulled back, wanting to see her stretched around him. “This greedy hole is just begging for it,” he growled. “Looks so pretty and pink, stretched around me.”
Her tits were now completely out of her shirt, and he hadn’t been able to look at them for fear of coming too quickly.
But she did the unexpected and pinched her nipples, locking eyes with him in the mirror, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
The curve of her tits was too good as she tugged them, heavy and round, the curve of her bare shoulder too perfect in the low light. She looked desperate for it, hair mussed in a sloppy bun, eyes half-lidded in pleasure. He couldn’t take the tight, hot clenching around his cock anymore.
White-hot need surged from his spine, his balls, as he lost control, looking at her. “Too fucking much,” he growled, mad at himself because he couldn’t last longer as he fucked each hot spurt into her. Again and again, releasing all of himself as she squeezed his cock.
Pressing her over the dresser, he pulled out, wanting the view of his cum spilling out of her.
Her pussy rippled, and thick white cum slowly dripped down. With two fingers, he shoved it back in, and she gasped, her eyes finding his in the mirror.