Chapter 7
Peyton
“You tired?” I scan the dark shells under his eyes, wondering if I said too much.
He exhales hard and lets his eyes flutter shut. When he opens them a moment later, a light chuckle escapes his lips. “Just a bit.” I can practically feel the drain of emotions that conversation loosed.
Even still, he stands and rubs his hands down his thighs before extending his palm to me. “Time for bed?”
It feels like an invitation. To his bed.
“We don’t have to do anything—”
“No. Ya.” I stand shaking my head and taking his hand. “Actually, I’d like to spend our first night together. Even if we don’t do anything.” I rush to say.
His half smile tugs on my heart the whole way to his room. As we get ready for bed, I have no idea what to expect, but it just feels so natural to share his space.
To avoid wearing anything suggestive, I decide on a loose T-shirt and small shorts, but then he sneaks under the covers similarly outfitted.
“You do not wear that much clothing to bed, Wendell.” I give him an unimpressed look.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“It’s okay. We’re both adults.”
“You sure?”
“Ya—”
Without waiting for me to finish, he’s already whipped off all his clothes down to his boxer briefs.
“Whew. Cause I would have probably died from overheating.” He hops back into the bed, all signs of the earlier moroseness having vanished. “Now, get over here.”
His large arms yank me over to him and tuck me into his body and immediately his warmth encases me.
“That’s better.” He says into my hair while I try not to obviously inhale his musky scent.
To me, he’s home. And I can’t absorb enough of him.
Lifting my head, I breathe against his chest. “Thanks Wendell.”
“This is what friends do.” His chest shakes with a low laugh.
“Totally.” I nod against him. “Friends. Yup.”
“We’re just a couple of friends who are married.”
“And have agreed to benefits.” I meant it as a joke, to add another puffy cloud of lightness to the air, but his body tenses beside me and I don’t want him to overthink what I just said, so I add more puffy cloud imagery.
“But you know, we have nothing to worry about considering how you kiss. So it’s all good.
” I pat his chest for good measure and go to roll away from him.
“Oh no, you don’t.” His arms lace more tightly around me. “You think you can get away that easily?”
Wendell can put a smile on my face like no one else can. “I can, and I will.”
“Not if you think that’s how I kiss my wife.” His fingers find the hem of my shirt and dip underneath, an imminent tickle on its way.
“That is how you kiss your wife.” I taunt him with a giggle.
And then he’s hovering over me while I can do nothing but take shallow breaths.
“You want to see how I’d really kiss my wife?” His bright blue eyes dance with playfulness.
My throat clogs with anticipation, so I nod.
“Let me hear you say it, Peyton.” Our mouths nearly touch as we breathe each other in.
It’s a moment in time to decide. Everything stills around us.
It’s just me and Wendell. His heavy body lingering over mine, a preview of what could happen.
My eyes move from his handsome face to the chest muscles flexed as he holds up his weight.
Over to his biceps that I ache to touch.
Down his abs that I would love to lick. I’d especially like to follow his happy trail.
“Kiss your wife, Wendell.”
And then all heaven breaks loose because Wendell’s mouth slants over mine.
An immediate hunger overpowers me. He slicks his tongue into me, desperate.
Me. Him. Without warning, there’s an impatience enveloping us.
His hands eager to feel every part of me.
Seeking more and more contact. Exploring.
Massaging. Grasping. Claiming. His sounds while he possesses me have me arching off the bed.
When my pussy makes contact with his hard length, I whimper. I need this man more than I need my next breath.
His lips trail down my neck, sucking. Nipping at my jaw.
Mumbling to me, “Finally.” I want to give him more and scramble to drag my shirt up.
It bunches up by my neck, cutting him off and forcing him to pay attention to my breasts.
The nipples standing up shouting at him to shower them. Which he does.
And fuck, he does it so well.
I’m the one pushing us. Driving us. I’m the one sliding my panties off and dragging his boxers down his thick, muscular thighs. I’m the one yanking him back to meet my mouth so I can moan into him. I’m the one rolling my hips into his long, hard, dick.
“You want this, Peyton?” His gravelly voice shoots arousal like a drug straight to my clit.
“Yes, Wendell.”
My own pulse pounds so loudly in my ears that I can hardly hear him answer me. “Fuck, I’ve wanted this so bad.”
I trust him implicitly. I know him. He would never do anything to hurt me.
“I want it,” I say hoarsely into his ear.
“Let me check if you’re ready,” he says back, and I’m expecting to feel his fingers between our rubbing bodies. Instead, he pulls off of me and brings his head between my legs. With one long lick up my slit he has me thrashing against his face.
“You’re so ready, Peyton. And you’re so fucking delicious. Sweet.” He starts kissing me down there in a way I’ve never experienced before. Like he’s French kissing me.
“I’m…I’m gonna come.” And it’s pathetic to even say it, but I’m almost disappointed that I’m going to climax now rather than with him inside of me.
“Do it. Let go, Peyton. Your first one can be all over my mouth, baby. And then I’ll pump into you so you can squeeze my dick and take your second one.”
Fuck. His words. Dirty. Filthy. My body is on fire. And I want to believe that he could give me a second one, but I don’t have time to think about it because my orgasm is soaring through me.
White lights blind me as every cell in my body claps for Wendell.
He licks me all up before coming up for air.
For a split second he looks at me and I wonder what he’s going to do next. I grab his head and pull it down to mine, devouring him. I can taste myself on him and I get even more turned on.
That’s when I feel his cock waiting patiently against my clit. I reach down and line him up so he can slide into me. My nipples graze his chest, sending fissures of friction throughout my body.
“Fuck, you’re tight, Peyton. You’re gonna fucking wring me dry.”
I can feel myself around his swollen girth, and my nails dig deeper into his shoulders.
“But not before I feel you clamp around me first, baby.”
He thrusts into me. Once. Twice. Hard. Harder.
Then his hands are around my torso and he’s leaning back on his knees. I’m a rag doll in his arms. Fully, fucking turned on, but totally and utterly to be used upon his whim.
“Do you feel that, baby? Feel how big you make me?”
I moan against his neck.
“Watch.” He growls into my ear. “Watch how you take me.”
Eyes weighed down in lust, fall to where he’s pumping inside of me, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I squeeze around him, feeling another—impossible—orgasm coming. I think I’m about to cry, it feels so good.
“Oh my God, Wendell. I’m—”
His grunt cuts me off and I fly off into a second orgasm. His low guttural cry muffles against my neck as I feel him explode into me.
Heavy breathing. Sweaty bodies. Hot. Slick. Home.
Wendell.
My thoughts can’t complete themselves. And then he’s up, going to the bathroom, coming back with a towel, cleaning me. Only moments later, his arms wind around me and we cuddle off to sleep.