Chapter 33 #2
And I do. Planting my hands on his hard chest, I pick up my hips and slam them back down against him. He groans, grabbing my waist, not guiding my movements, but just keeping them there while I move the way I need. Rubbing myself against him each time our bodies slap together.
“Do you know how fucking beautiful you are?” Wes moans, and it makes my movements stop.
I look down at him, trying to detect the lie, but it isn’t there. His eyes are blazing with heat. He grabs my hips tighter, silently encouraging me to move again. I’m so lost in looking at him I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
He flexes his hips, pushing up into me and I cry out. It’s enough to pull me out of my trance. His hands slide to my chest, cupping my breasts, squeezing and pushing them together. “What were you thinking?” he asks.
I drop my head back at all the sensations going on. “I was wondering if you’re lying.”
His arm bands behind my back as he sits up. Our chests colliding as he moves my legs so they wrap around him, relieving my knees.
“Have I ever lied to you?” The way he’s holding me in place so I can’t look away or move makes me feel exposed. Even more than the fact that we are naked and as close as two people can possibly be.
“Not that I know of,” I whisper.
“I haven’t. Not that first night, not in the three years since. And not now.”
I swallow roughly at how deadly serious he is.
“I’m not going to start, either,” he continues. “You’re fucking beautiful, Bailey. We aren’t talkative people, and I’m not good at compliments or feelings, but I’ve never felt like this before.”
I gasp at what he’s admitting. My heart rate kicks up and the urge to run overwhelms me. I don’t know how to talk about this. I don’t know what to say. The fact that Wes is saying anything has me completely dumbfounded.
He moves my hair from my face, and I have no words. I don’t know what to say, so instead I kiss him. Hard. Deep. It takes the seriousness out of the moment and brings me back to more comfortable territory for me which is our out of control chemistry.
His tongue invades my mouth on a groan, and he fucks up into me, erasing all of the fear his words instilled. We move together like we were made to do just this, and when his hand slaps my sensitive ass once, again I moan and grind against him even harder.
I feel his smile against my mouth. “You fucking love that don’t you, Angel?”
I nod against him, trying to chase the orgasm I feel building once again.
“What else do you like?”
“This,” I moan, not wanting him to take away another release, knowing if he does I may actually lose my mind.
Of course I should know better because I’m tossed onto my back and quickly flipped onto my stomach. I gasp as he pulls my hips up, and presses into me again. I bury my face in the mattress, muffling all the noise I’m making. I swear I’ve never been as vocal as I am with him.
He pulls me up so my back is plastered to his front while he essentially uses me, moving me up and down on him as he thrusts into me.
When his hand moves down my stomach to the area where we’re connected, he rubs my clit and I drop my head back against his shoulder.
My nails dig into his strong forearm around my stomach and then there’s a sharp stinging where he was just rubbing as he slaps the sensitive nub.
I cry out, and his mouth grazes my ear. “How about that?”
I nod, and he does it again. And again. I’m barreling toward the orgasm that I’ve been denied too many times for my liking. He goes back to rubbing the area and fucking me at the perfect pace. I dig my nails into his skin as a silent threat because he better not stop.
“Please Wes, please,” I plead, meeting his thrusts.
“Let go, Angel. Show me how tightly you can squeeze my cock.”
His permission is all I need to get there, crying out as the release slams into me so hard, I swear I black out. I hardly register being pushed down onto the mattress while he pounds into me and groans when he finds his own release.
We’re both breathing hard as we come down, and suddenly what we admitted to each other comes back and the fear crashes back into me.
Wes lifts himself up, walking out of the room and I take an extra moment to make sure my muscles can actually move.
As I sit there, he walks back in, kneeling between my thighs, and cleaning the area with one of my washcloths.
He presses a gentle kiss to the inside of my thigh that has my breath catching.
Then, he grabs my discarded shirt from the floor, his voice low but firm. “Arms up.”
I do, only because I’m feeling too vulnerable to be naked right now.
“Get into bed.” His voice is back to that gruff demanding tone he generally has.
I’m so tired and sated to argue, even as the worries of what happens next linger just out of reach. I climb into bed, and watch him pull on his pants before approaching me again.
“Are you staying?” I manage to squeak out, not sure which answer I want more.
He freezes, clearly not expecting the question. “Do you want me to?”
I pull the blankets up to my chin because I don’t know which answer he wants to hear, and I don’t know which one I want to say.
“No, you need to be with Bruno,” I manage to say, and he nods, though I don’t miss the way his shoulders drop, either in relief or disappointment.
But he agrees, and does the same thing he’s done each time he’s left me in my bed before. Presses a kiss to my forehead, and whispers, “Goodnight, Angel.”