Chapter 33
Bailey
My ass is on fire, but I’ve never been this wet. Which I didn’t think was possible after the car, but this? This is even more erotic. The way his hand smacks down on me, then kneads the sting away. The sharp pain giving way to pleasure. It sends a thrill through me I can’t describe.
It should feel degrading being draped across his lap like this. I shouldn’t want his hands on me in this way. But I do. God, I do. Which is why I asked for more.
And he gives me just that.
Several more slaps land on my ass, heat blooming under each one, and I can’t help the way I grind myself against his leg like a cat in heat.
But then I’m being lifted, flipped, and settled in his lap again.
His mouth crashes into mine. The kiss is intense, just like they always are but this time there’s more.
It’s just as rough, invading and all consuming, but there’s an edge to it that was there when he took my mouth without a single word at my front door.
There’s something unspoken between us. Something we don’t know how to express, or say but we can show each other. At least like this.
Wes moves, laying me back on the bed, and he holds himself up over me. I expect him to kiss me again, but instead, he slides away with a smirk. I watch him, rising to my elbows, watching, curious, and breathless.
I take the time to appreciate his bare chest, the tattoos that cover his left arm up to his shoulder. The arms that are so big they might as well be the size of my head. My eyes roam down the rest of his chiseled body as his ab muscles tense and I want to be mad at how perfect he looks.
It’s unfair how this man who’s driven me absolutely insane for years has the audacity to look like that. But I meant what I said. I don’t hate him. I couldn’t.
My gaze drops lower, I can see his erection tenting his pants, and it makes my mouth water. I want to feel him, all of him, but I don’t move. Because as much as I like to push him to see how close I can toe the line, right now I want to see what it’s like when I don’t.
He has some kind of hold over me. This time, I want to do exactly as he says. Especially when his voice drops and he growls, “Touch yourself.”
“What?” I blink. Because with the way he was just touching me, it seems like I must have misheard him.
“Touch yourself, but don’t come.”
“That doesn’t seem fair,” I mutter before I can stop myself. Immediately biting my bottom lip, regretting letting the words slip free.
“Oh, that’s not fair, Angel?” he echoes, voice low and sharp.
“You know what isn’t fair?” I swallow roughly, worried about what he’s going to say.
“That I’ve had to live next to you for three damn years, knowing exactly what you feel like, what you taste like, and not being able to do a damn thing about it. ”
I suck in a sharp breath as he continues.
“Knowing you were probably in here touching that sweet cunt of yours, and I couldn’t see it. Not once. That I haven’t been with anyone for the last three years because the only woman I wanted lived next door and wanted nothing to do with me.”
My jaw drops in a gasp at his confession. I never thought in a million years he hadn’t been with anyone else since we were together all those years ago.
But neither have I.
“Tell me something, Angel. When you’re in here all alone, can’t sleep and your fingers slip into your underwear, who do you think about?”
I shrug, not wanting to answer.
“Tell me,” he warns, “or I’ll take you over my knee again.”
The thought has me squirming, and not in a bad way.
“Would you think about that night?” he presses. “Would you think about me?”
I roll my lips in, still not wanting to answer. But then I nod.
“Say it.”
“I’d think about your mouth on me,” I admit.
“Show me.”
I drift my hand up the inside of my thigh, resting my feet on the bed and spreading them. I hear his low growl when he sees me bare in front of him. I let out a small whimper the second my fingers graze my sensitive clit.
“What else did you think about?”
“How it felt to have you inside me.”
“When you thought about that, did you push one of your fingers inside yourself, and realize it’s not enough?”
I moan out a needy, “Yes.”
“Do it now,” he demands, and I do. Pushing my middle finger in and moaning at the sensation. It’s not enough. Not even close.
“Need another one, Angel?”
“Mhm.”
“Then give yourself what you need.”
I push another finger in along with the first, and thrust them gently, but I’m quickly frustrated at how it’s not enough. I start to rub my palm against my clit while I try to get myself there with just my touch.
Wes watches me, his eyes honed on where my fingers are. I move my free hand up my stomach to my chest where I cup a breast, squeezing and plucking at my nipple while I try to pretend like my fingers are enough.
I moan his name in a small plea.
“What is it?” he asks tauntingly.
“I want you to touch me,” I breathe.
“Mm not yet, but you can watch me.”
I groan in frustration, watching as he pushes his sweatpants down, his cock bobbing free. He wraps his fist around it immediately, moving over it once, twice, and I swear I could come just from watching him.
“Did you see this in any of your fantasies?” he asks, voice low. “Or were you always too eager to have me touching you?”
“You were always…shit,” I cut myself off with the curse as I manage to touch a particularly sensitive spot that has my eyes crossing.
“I was always what?” he presses, voice rough. “Tell me what that mind of yours thought about while you were so desperate to feel me, but settled on touching yourself instead.”
“You were always touching me,” I manage to say, breath catching as I find a rhythm and pressure that’s making me feel the telling signs of an orgasm starting.
“Was it my mouth? My fingers? My cock?”
“All of them,” I admit. As I fall back into the fantasy remembering what it feels like when it’s a reality.
“Take your shirt off. If you’re going to play with your nipples, I want to see.”
Without an ounce of hesitation, I rip the shirt over my head and toss it aside.
I’m so turned on that I don’t even have a second to spare to feel self conscious.
Or think about the way I’m completely naked touching myself while Wes watches.
Seeing how he’s working his hand over his length, slow and deliberate, erases all hesitation I would have in this situation.
His eyes burn into me, making me feel seen, but not only that.
I feel beautiful and wanted. Wes wants me.
He wants every part of me he’s seen physically and mentally. Instead of running away when I give him attitude, he wants more of it. He wants more of me.
Oh my God. I’m getting feelings for Wes.
“Stop,” he commands, and I gasp, realizing how close I am to release.
But I don’t stop. I don’t move my hand away, and instead bite my bottom lip, and start to move slowly once again.
“Bailey,” he growls.
“Yeah?” I ask, as I continue my movements.
“Stop.”
“But it feels so good,” I breathe, swiveling my hips, and moaning once again.
“I know it does, but you’re not going to come yet.”
“Maybe I am.”
His voice dips, a low warning. “Bailey.” A shiver runs down my spine, and the underlying threat only makes me continue my movements.
In a heartbeat, he’s on me, pinning my hands above my head with one of his. I can feel his rock hard length pressed against me, and I hook my leg around him trying to pull him closer.
“Why do you always feel the need to test me?”
“If I say because it’s fun will my punishment be worse?”
“I don’t think punishments even work for you,” he mutters with a laugh.
“Maybe you should try a different tactic.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
I hum, dragging my foot slowly up the back of his calf. “Maybe you give me what we both want, and I’ll behave.”
“Somehow, I don’t believe that.”
“Why not?” I rub my leg against him again, wiggling my hips underneath him so I can feel more of his bare dick against me.
“Because I don’t think you ever want to really be an angel. You’re much happier being a fallen one…driving me insane.”
“But you like it.”
“I do.”
His forehead drops down to mine.
“You like me,” I state softly, it’s not a question and it’s barely above a whisper, but part of me needs to hear him say it.
“I do,” he replies just as quietly.
I arch up to take his mouth with my own. He kisses me back fiercely, keeping my hands pinned while he rocks against me.
“Please fuck me,” I beg. Words I never say. Asking for something I never would usually ask for, but my lost orgasm is controlling my mind and my body right now.
Wes smirks, and reaches down between us, guiding his erection through my wetness, up to my clit, down to my opening but not pushing in. I move my hips, straining to feel the way he’s going to stretch me so perfectly, but he just does the move again.
I groan in protest, “Please.”
“One thing first.” He pauses. “You like me, too.”
He doesn’t ask. He knows. He looks at me so intently, his brown eyes burning into mine just waiting for what I’m going to say. I could deny it, play it off like I usually do. Act like this is only physical. That I feel nothing for the man that is in fact making me feel so much.
“I do,” I say so softly that I think there’s no way he actually heard me.
Maybe he didn’t because he doesn’t acknowledge the words that I managed to say before he’s thrusting inside me. The combination of pain and pleasure has me crying out while he stays still, fully seated and waiting for me to adjust to the feel of him.
“Is this what you wanted?” he asks smugly.
I swivel my hips and whimper at the feeling, but then manage to squeak out, “More.”
With a small smirk he moves us quickly flipping us around so he’s on his back and I’m straddling his hips. The new angle has him hitting deeper and my mouth drops open in a gasp as my eyes roll back.
“Ride me, Angel. Take what you’re wanting.”