Chapter 19
Maisie
Wyatt closes the distance between us when I’m one step away from him.
He’s breathing hard, his eyes tortured as he clasps my wrists and pulls me closer, the breath hissing from his throat as my breasts collide with his chest.
It feels good. Too good.
His eyes briefly close, face taut as he releases a breath in a long exhalation. He switches our positions, walking me deeper into his workshop. “I’m not sure how gentle I can be, darlin’,” he warns.
I tilt my head up. “So don’t be gentle.”
He swallows, and I track the bobbing of his Adam’s apple. “Not. Helping,” he grinds out between gritted teeth.
Needing more contact, I rise to my tiptoes, sit on the edge of his table and spread my thighs for him. His hips move forward automatically. His eyes flash open, a groan rumbling from his throat as his cock bumps my pussy.
My heart slams against my chest. My skin is hot, almost sweating. I’m burning up, but it has nothing to do with the heat of the room.
With his hands on my hips, he stares down at me. I feel him fighting to control himself. That isn’t what I want.
“You’re not fucking me,” I remind him. “Or biting me.”
His eyes flash, and I’m flat on my back a split second later. Frantically, his hands push up my shirt, bunching it above my breasts, and his mouth captures my nipple.
He sucks hard, pleasure exploding in my mind at the intense suction from his hot, rough mouth.
My back arches, and I tangle my fingers in his hair to keep his mouth on me.
Lifting his head, he moves to my left breast, sucking and nipping, soothing each sting from the graze of his teeth with hungry licks.
He pushes my shirt up over my head and drags my shorts—and panties—down my legs. By the time my clothes hit the floor, he’s pushing my thighs up and putting his mouth on me.
“Wyatt!” My thoughts scatter and my eyes slam shut.
He groans against my pussy. “Fuck, you taste incredible.”
Kissing my lower belly, he groans while wrestling his sweatpants down his legs. He tosses them aside and stands over me.
The blunt head of his cock nudges me between my spread thighs.
I hold my breath.
His eyes burn as he stares down between us, so I look too, and it’s almost too much, too good, watching him slowly push himself inside me.
“That’s it,” he rumbles, his cock retreating and sliding in again. “Take more, darlin’. Take it all.”
He controls the pace. Every roll of his hips drives his cock deeper inside me. He’s so thick. My body grasps at his, squeezing, fighting to hold him deep.
I whimper. My eyes flutter closed and I grip the edge of the table, holding on. I can’t look at him sinking into me anymore. My mind is cascading, and I can’t think, let alone breathe.
With one firm thrust, he grunts when he’s fully seated inside me. I feel stretched thin around him, and though I can’t move with him pinning me down like this, I wouldn’t want to.
“You all right, darlin’?” His voice is husky, vibrating with need.
Eyes closed, and heart racing, I smile at him slowing himself down to check in with me. “Yeah.”
I moan as he stretches his body over me. His pelvis grinds along my clit, threatening to throw me into a climax.
“That smile…” His lips brush mine. “That smile is everything.” He presses a kiss to my throat. “You ready for a hard fuck and those bites you requested?”
My pulse pounds with excitement, and the muscles in my belly tighten. It’s not the only part of me that does from Wyatt’s muttered curse and his cock throbbing inside me.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he groans.
His teeth rake over my throat, and I whimper. He joins our fingers together, pinning them to the table over my head. It’s like one of my heat dreams. An alpha holding me down, my thighs spread wide, ready to be claimed and bitten.
Every part of my body is tense, adrenaline racing through my veins.
I hold my breath. His teeth rake again, biting down on my throat. I cry out, feeling myself clench around him.
He groans, laps at the bite, and starts thrusting. It’s hard and fast. He nips and he bites, covering my breasts and throat with tiny pleasure-inducing bites.
He keeps a steady pace as he fucks me, his balls slapping against the underside of my ass. He pulls one hand from my wrist, slides it between us; his fingers find my clit, and he strums it with a firmness that makes me explode around him.
My mouth falls open in a soundless scream. He teases my clit a little more, hammering into me and then groaning. His hands clasp my hips, pulling me hard against him and holding himself there as his cock swells, his knot locking us together.
I swear I fall forever, my body rocked by endless tiny aftershocks.
He collapses over me, groaning against my throat as my climax keeps him in an almost constant loop of pleasure.
Finally, I let my eyes drift closed, wrapping my arms and legs around Wyatt as he kisses my throat.
“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks, voice rough but sated.
“Amazing. You?”
“Me? Never better.” His lips find mine, our tongues tangling, and our kiss extends until we both need to breathe.
Then we just hold each other. I’m in no rush to move, and neither is he.
Minutes later, he still has me pinned to his table as I run my hands up and down his back when something on a small black table catches my eye. I frown as I puzzle out what it is.
“A sculpture,” Wyatt says, startling me.
He lifts his head from my shoulder after pressing a kiss on it and looks down at me, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I could feel you thinking. You’ve stayed out of here much longer than I thought you would.”
“I thought it was private.”
A dimple forms on his cheek. “I’ve left the door open often enough to tempt you inside when I should have just invited you in. If it was private and I didn’t want you in here, I’d have closed it.”
“Oh.”
“I like to make things,” he explains.
“Things like what?”
He shrugs. “Whatever comes to mind. I go to salvage yards and find pieces of metal, melt them, and shape them into something new.”
My eyes return to the twisted bits of metal about two hands tall. “It’s beautiful. Are those wings?”
He nods. “It’s telling me it wants to be a dragonfly.”
I look at Wyatt. “Telling you?”
His cheeks flush a dull red. “I start melting and soldering with no idea what something will be. The longer I work on it, the more I know what it will turn into.”
He was so embarrassed to tell me that, but he did it anyway. That’s so sweet.
The metal dragonfly in creation draws my gaze again. “How long will it take you to finish?”
“Could be another month. Maybe two. Maybe longer than that. I won’t know until it’s done.”
“How’d you start? This doesn’t sound like a hobby anyone could pick up.”
“A guy I used to work with made toys for his kid. He showed me a couple. When I told him I was interested in learning how, he took me to his garage and showed me, and I stuck with it. I like to work on it for an hour or so every now and again.”
“What else have you made?”
“A fly. A beetle… uh, and a cat.”
“Do you still have them?” I ask, curious to see something finished.
Smiling, he shakes his head. “I travel way too much, and there’s not nearly enough room in my truck. I send all my finished pieces home. My dad has a shelf in his garage.”
“You don’t sell them?” I know nothing about sculpture, least of all how much it would sell for, but this dragonfly is so striking, I can’t help but think someone would pay a lot of money for it.
“I just make it for me. Never had any interest in selling what I make. How about I take you inside and we get cleaned up?” He makes a face as his eyes flick to the table. “We shouldn’t have done this on my table without me wiping it down first. How’s your back? Did you lie on anything sharp?”
“Nope. My back is okay, and yes to moving somewhere less hard, please.”
His lips twitch. “Less hard?”
My cheeks burn. “To lie on,” I say, perfectly aware of what I still have lodged inside me, though I do feel him starting to soften. “I don’t mind other hard things. Obviously.”
Laughing, he lifts me up and gives me a deep kiss. We leave our clothes on the floor, and he carries me into the house and right into the shower.
Slick skin, lingering caresses and confined quarters soon turn a quick shower into a slow, lazy fuck against the wall.
He kisses my throat soon after we’ve climaxed. “Can you stand, darlin’? Need to get you clean, and this hot water won’t last forever.”
“I’m willing to risk it,” I say, making him laugh.
My legs tremble when I stand, but I stay on my feet. Barely.
Wyatt presses me against the tiles, drops to his knees and cleans every inch of my body.
Front and back. I like wearing his bites.
Means I’m carrying a physical reminder, at least for the next few days, of how good it felt when he claimed me in a way I’d only ever dreamed about.
Wyatt likes the bites too. When he sweeps his eyes over me, they burn with possessiveness.
After we dry ourselves off, we get into his bed.
The window is open, letting in a cool gust of wind to blow across our overheated skin.
It’s perfect. Not too hot and not so cool that I want to pull the sheets over myself.
As I lie in Wyatt’s arms, drawing small circles on his chest with my finger, I struggle to process the sharp turn my life has taken.
“What are you thinking?” he asks long minutes later.
“I’m happy,” I tell him simply. “When I left Oregon, I thought I would spend the rest of my life running and hiding from Derek. But I’m here with you, and I’m happy.”
He gives my temple a soft kiss. “Good. Your forehead is still a little red. Does it hurt?”
I scrunch my nose, lifting my fingers to probe a tiny dent. “Why would it hurt?”
He grins. “From running into my door and nearly giving me a heart attack.”
“Oh, no, it doesn’t hurt. You distracted me with things that involved other parts of my body. My priorities shifted pretty quickly after that.”