Chapter 16
WAYLON
Ridge drops me off in my driveway. I had to leave my car at the bar. Ha, that rhymes. I possibly had a couple drinks too many. But it’s fine. Ridge had like one beer and then switched to water so he drove all of us home. Apparently, getting engaged makes you infinitely more responsible.
I jiggle the key into the lock, which takes me longer than I want to admit.
Tater barks from the other side as I open the door and step inside.
Scanning the room, my eyes land on Lyric, who’s sitting on the edge of the counter with a pint of ice cream in one hand and a spoon to her mouth in the other. Man, she looks good.
“Hello, darlin’,” I say as I saunter over. At least, I think I’m sauntering. I could just be zigzagging like a loose bobblehead doll.
“Don’t call me that.” Her tone is sharp, but that’s nothing new.
I come around the corner of the island to stand in front of her. “Can I have a taste?”
She pulls the spoon from the pint and turns it around to reveal a nearly empty carton. There’s maybe a single spoonful in the bottom.
“Sorry, cowboy,” she says, then shrugs her shoulders at me.
She’s not sorry. But it doesn’t matter to me.
“That’s not what I meant.” I place a hand on each of her knees and push them open. She’s wearing a long black flowy skirt that I think she called “peasant” but I could be wrong. And her top is this wispy black lace tank top that shows the smallest sliver of her stomach. So. Hot.
I pull the hem of her skirt up and begin bunching the fabric up. My knuckles drag over the sensitive skin of her inner thighs as I bite my bottom lip.
“I don’t think I’m in the mood,” she says.
“Are you sure?” My fingertips graze slightly higher, and I watch the muscles in her throat bob up and down.
She sets her spoon and empty pint down, then reaches for my hands. She stills them, holding them in place but not pushing them away.
“How bad do you want it?” Lyric’s eyebrows perk up, her mouth hanging open slightly, lips so pouty and pink.
I lean in to kiss them, but she pulls back.
“Answer,” she says.
“Real bad.”
Lyric presses her palm into my chest, pushing me back half a step.
“Show me.” She leans back on her hands, shifting her weight. “Beg.”
I remove my cowboy hat from my head and place it on hers. I’m not one to shy away from a challenge. And I’ve certainly never been too proud to beg.
I kneel in front of her—one knee and then the other—then gently trail my fingertips from her ankles to her knees. And I don’t break eye contact.
“Please…” I place a kiss on the inside of her knee.
“Let…” I kiss the other knee… “Me…” I grip her thighs and scoot her closer to the edge of the counter.
“Taste…” I wrap my arms beneath her legs and sink my hands into the flesh of her perfect ass.
“Your…” Another kiss on her thigh. “Perfect…” Another kiss.
“Sweet…” I kiss the edge of her panties… “Pussy…”
Lyric is breathing hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she pants. Her head is thrown back, but she hasn’t given me permission yet. So I take my index finger and glide it over the front of her panties.
I groan. “Mmm, you’re already wet.”
“Just shut up and put your mouth on me,” she says, pushing her hips toward me.
I hook my finger into her panties and pull them to the side. I lick her slow, flattening my tongue against her clit in that way that makes her legs shake. She rests them over my shoulders, so I stand and lay her back flat onto the counter.
“Fuck,” she says, gasping for her next breath.
I suck her folds into my mouth and stick my tongue into her hole. I eat like I’m starved, burying my face between her legs. She moans and squirms, but I hold her tight to me. Her hand trails up to my hair and grabs a handful.
“Yes,” she moans. “Yes. Fuck. Yes.”
Each word from her lips is punctuated with a gasp for her next breath. God, I love when she sounds like this. I love the way she feels in the throes of pleasure. And I love that I’m the one doing it to her.
I push two fingers inside her tight pussy as I lap at her clit. I go deep, sliding them in and out, my pace quickening until I’m pounding them into her.
“Fuck…Waylon,” she says, practically screaming.
I pull my mouth from her, letting my hand finish the job. “Eyes on me, darlin’.”
Her eyes make contact with mine as I hold her in place. I add a third finger, fucking her hard and deep.
“Come for me, Lyric. Come all over my hand, baby.”
Lyric’s back arches toward me, her ass wiggling against all the sensation she must be feeling.
“I’m coming,” she yells. “Oh my god, Waylon, I’m coming!”
Her body grows rigid as I hold on, burying my fingers deep inside her. Her walls constrict around them and I savor the moment. The features of her face scrunch, then release as her eyes roll back. Everything goes limp, her face softening into the most angelic expression.
It’s honestly about the only time she looks angelic. Well, that’s not true. She looks mostly that way all the time. She just doesn’t act like it. Except when she’s giving Tater her attention. Or when she’s hanging out with Lou. I’m getting off topic.
The point is, she’s not that way with me and it’s my own fault.
I messed it up a long time ago. Which is why I don’t blame her.
Sometimes I do find myself wondering though.
What it would be like to be the central focus of her love and affection rather than her snarky disdain.
I mean, she lets me fuck her, so that’s something.
But it’s not all she is or all she has to give.
And oftentimes, my curiosity gets the better of me.
Fuck, my thoughts are all mixed up. Ridge is engaged. Killian is in love with his neighbor. Lyric is in my arms. It just… makes me think.
“Will you help me to bed? I think I’ve gotten more intoxic… ca-cated since they dropped me off.” I try to stand up straight, but when I look over, the door to the sunroom is a little crooked, so I don’t think I’m quite there. Maybe my head is just crooked. I tilt it until the door is more straight.
“What are you doing with your head?” Lyric asks as she slides off the counter. She reaches out, gripping my forearms to steady me. “You know what? Yeah, let’s get you to bed.”
Lyric wraps her arm around my waist, and I lay mine over her shoulder. “You’re so short and cute.”
“Okay, big guy, now you’re talking crazy,” she says with a laugh.
She guides me to my door, which, despite gravity, I don’t fall into. Inside, I do fall onto the bed though. I kick my shoes off and scramble up onto the pillow.
Lyric is pulling the covers down, and I’m wrestling against my pants. With her help and a bit of luck, I manage to get them off and then my shirt next.
“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning,” she says, turning to leave.
“Wait, just sit here for a second.” I reach out toward her and pat the mattress with my other hand. “Pleeeeaaasseee….”
I might be barely able to keep my eyes open, but that eye roll could be seen from Mars. Still, she relents, walking back toward me and sliding up onto the mattress.
“Fine,” she says. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep, but only so I can make sure you’re lying on your side so you don’t choke to death on your own vomit.”
“You’re so good to me.” I wrap my arm around her, gripping her waist tightly and pulling her into me.
“Okay, this is not a comfortable position,” she says, one arm bent in a particularly odd angle because of the way I’m holding her middle.
“Just lie down right here.” I nod next to me. “Be the little spoon for like three minutes, and I’ll totally fall asleep and then you can leave.” I push my bottom lip out, giving her an exaggerated pout.
“Finnneee.” She huffs, pulling her legs up and cradling her head on my bicep. I re-wrap my arm over her middle, just under her tits and hug her to my chest.
Her hair spills into my face, and I inhale her scent. It’s deeply floral and warm—inviting and familiar. I think she’s always been that for me. Since the moment we met.
I mumble my approval, but I don’t think she can hear or understand me. Sleep is coming. My body feels heavy and my head is spinning. I tighten my grip on her, pulling her against me completely.
Her soft flesh is a lifeboat for my mind, which feels lost at sea.