Chapter 21
LYRIC
How we got home is a blur. He rushed me out of that storage room, grabbed his hat, made some excuse about me not feeling well, and skillfully led me through the crowd and to his truck.
He opened the door, all but lifted me inside, and drove home faster than I realized it could be done.
I do know at one point I looked over and he was sucking on the two fingers he had inside me but said nothing.
And me? Throbbing all the way home. Which brings us to now.
Waylon sets his hat and keys onto the table near the front door. I kick off the boots I’ve been wearing all night.
“I was jealous, you know,” he says, pausing. “When you went with Steve.”
“Why?” I’m surprised. I didn’t ever take him for the type.
“Because…” He pauses again, moving closer to me. “Because I know you. And you deserve better than Steve.”
“You know nothing about him.” I shake my head, annoyed with how judgy he’s being.
“I don’t know how women do it, but men size each other up in the first twenty or thirty seconds.”
He wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. I resist, but only a little. Because the truth is, I absolutely cannot resist this man in any real way. I just don’t want him to know that.
“And he can’t make you feel as good as I make you feel,” he says.
Waylon bends down, hiking my skirt up over my hips and gripping my ass. He lifts me into the air, encouraging me to wrap my legs around him.
“Kiss me, darlin’,” he whispers. “Kiss me like nothin’ else matters. Kiss me like we’re not roommates, like this isn’t just an arrangement. Kiss me. Please.”
I look into his eyes as I brush my knuckles over his jawline. And I give him what he wants. Because it’s what I want, too.
I kiss him hard, wrapping my hand around his throat. I kiss him deep, swirl my tongue around his. His hands tighten around me as we begin to move. He’s walking and I feel like I’m floating.
Still, I kiss him. My mouth moves against his as my body arches and writhes.
Waylon slides his hand underneath my ass and buries two fingers inside me as he navigates to his bedroom. Needless to say, he gets an A+ in multitasking.
He gently drops me down onto the bed and stands back, moving to the foot of the bed.
“Get up there on the pillow and take off your clothes,” he says, as he pulls his shirt over his head.
Dear baby Jesus. I will never get over the sight of him. Ink decorates nearly every inch of his taut skin. I watch the veins in his forearms pop as he works his belt and pants off. His broad chest swells with every breath.
I wrestle the leather halter and skirt off, leaving my panties and stockings as I watch him pull his boxer briefs down, freeing his cock.
Waylon is rock hard and his eyes are locked on me. He grips himself, sliding his hand down over his shaft, pumping as his eyes trace from my face all the way down to my panties.
“I meant everything,” he says, still stroking himself.
I pull down the last of my garments, discarding them to the floor, and lean back onto the pillow.
“Touch yourself,” he says. “The way I’m touching myself.”
Waylon’s hand slowly moves up and down the shaft of his cock and a moan escapes him.
I bend my knees and spread my legs wide for him. I use two fingers to swirl around my clit as I arch toward him. My other palm grazes the sensitive skin around my nipple before pinching it to make it hard.
Waylon is watching me with an intensity I’ve never known. His dark eyes bounce from my face to my chest and then lower, where I’m working myself over. My arousal coats my fingers as I get closer to an orgasm. I can feel it building low in my stomach.
“I don’t want to come like this, Waylon,” I say, gasping.
“What makes you think this is the only one you’re getting?” He asks. He nods his head toward me, urging me to keep going. His expression is giving caged animal waiting to be cut loose. And I really fucking love it.
I lie back and close my eyes, focusing on feeling the pleasure I’m experiencing. I push my fingers deep inside my pussy and drag them back out, then swirl around my clit again. My legs shake and a whimper escapes me.
“Fuck, Waylonnnnn,” I yell as I begin to orgasm. My muscles contract and flex as he climbs onto the bed and dives face first between my legs, sucking my clit into his mouth mid-orgasm.
“Oh my goddddd!” I tug at his hair as my legs squeeze against him, but he forces them back open.
He licks and sucks through my orgasm, causing a ripple effect. Before I know what’s happening, I’m having a second orgasm. My body feels like it’s going to rip itself apart, and Waylon is the only thing holding it together. With his mouth.
He holds onto me tightly as I gasp for air and grab at the sheets. My toes curl in so hard, they may never be the same again.
I leave my body for a second, float around, say hello to my dead mother, return to my body, and then—for the first time since he started touching me—I suck in a full, deep breath.
“Jesus, man,” I say, huffing.
Waylon crawls farther up and rests his head between my tits. He pushes his knee between my legs and shifts his weight so he’s not crushing me. It’s very comfortable and quite soothing to me as I try to calm down.
He smooths his palm over my waist and hip, nuzzling his scruffy cheek against my bare chest.
“We’re not done,” he says, lifting to his elbow.
He stares down at me for a moment with a strange look on his face. His eyes feel like they’re searching mine for something. Very gently, he tilts my chin up with his knuckle and brushes his lips against mine. It’s tender. Different.
I close my eyes and weave my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down to me. His words echo in my mind. Kiss me like nothin’ else matters.
I kiss him slowly, deeply. My tongue flicks against his, and I suck his bottom lip between my teeth. I reach down between us and slide my hand over the head of his cock. He twitches and groans, sucking in a breath.
“Jesus, fuck,” he whispers.
Waylon tries to nibble at my neck as I guide him off me and to his back. He reaches for me like he’s going to pull me on top of him, but I smack his hand away as I sink my knees between his legs.
My nails scrape over the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, slowly making circles from his knee all the way up to his groin.
“Put your hands behind your head,” I command him as I run my fingertips over his balls and up his shaft. He obeys, even as he arches into my touch.
I slide my hand around him, gripping him tightly at the base of his dick. I don’t break eye contact as I slide my tongue around the head, swirling all around the tip. With my other hand, I grip his balls and tug on them gently.
Waylon’s eyes dance with pleasure as he fights to maintain control of himself. He sucks in a breath, biting his bottom lip.
“Fuck, Lyric,” he hisses.
I spit on his cock and use the pad of my thumb to spread it over the very tip of him. He thrusts forward, silently begging for more.
Waylon throws his head back, whimpering as I shove him deep into my throat. I’ve never heard a man whimper before, and it is the most intoxicating sound. It’s my new favorite thing, and I want to hear him do it again and again.
I wiggle my tongue against his shaft as I take him as deep as he’ll go. Then I back off, swirling my tongue just around the tip. He twitches and jerks under the alternating intensity of deep throating him and then the featherlight tongue action as I repeat the pattern.
I replace my mouth with my hands so I can look up at him more completely. With my hand tight around his shaft, I study his expression. Pure pleasure. Ecstasy even. Fuck, that’s hot.
“You’re a good boy keeping your hands to yourself.”
His eyes light up with what can only be described as carnal fire. He’s a feral thing, too proud to beg for release.
“You want me, don’t you, cowboy? You want to be inside me?” I swirl the palm of my hand around the tip again.
He groans and grunts, still twitching and jerking as he tries to maintain control of himself.
“I want you,” he chokes out. “I want you, darlin’.”
I’m paralyzed for a split second, trying hard not to put meaning to his words outside of this moment, outside of this context. This is not what I think it is, I remind myself. He doesn’t want me like that.
I lift myself up and straddle a knee on either side of him, lowering to press his shaft against my clit.
“You can touch me now.”
Waylon’s hands rush to my face, pulling my mouth down to his. He kisses me deeply as I grind my pussy hard against his throbbing cock.
His right palm slides from my jaw to around my throat, and then he cups my tits. His mouth moves to my nipple. He sucks and swirls his tongue, then moves to the other one and repeats.
“Waylon!” I moan. “Oh my god!”
He presses his index and middle finger past my lips and into my mouth. I suck, lapping my tongue against them. When they’re completely wet, he uses them to pinch and tweak one of my nipples as he gently nibbles the other.
“Fuck,” I whisper. I feel like I’m losing my mind. I grind harder against him, desperate for more. More touching. More kissing. More white-hot electric buzzing all over my fucking skin.
“Goddamnit,” he says, pushing me from his lap. He rises to his knees and flips me over, putting my face against the mattress and ass in the air.
I spread my knees wide and arch my back as I feel the head of him slide over my entrance. My legs shake with anticipation, but he doesn’t push inside me. He just presses his length against me, teasing as I whimper.
“I’m going to fuck you, Lyric. I’m going to fuck you until you tell me to stop or until you’re body gives out.” He gives my ass cheek a little smack. “Put your hands behind your back.” He slaps the other cheek. I do as he says.
“That’s a good girl,” he says.
And then my brain malfunctions. I’m writhing, desperate for relief.
“But I think before I fuck you, I’m going to have a taste of this sweet little cunt of yours again,” he whispers. “And you. Can’t. Come. Yet.”
Without warning, he shoves his tongue deep into my pussy. I moan into the mattress, muffling my screams as my legs shake uncontrollably.
“Waylon, fuck. Oh my god. Waylon. Please.”
His tongue flicks and twists inside me as I fight the urge to move my hands. He shakes his head side to side rapidly, testing the limits of my self-control.
I plead again. “Fuck me, Waylon. Now. Please.”
He switches positions, lining himself up behind me. The tip of his dick teases my entrance. I push back against him, thighs slick and a bead of sweat already trickling down my temple.
Sometimes it’s hard to come to terms with how badly I want him, with how much I ache for his touch, and how delicious that ache is to me. A person has to be a little fucked up to be addicted to yearning. But it’s more precise than that. Because it’s only him.
Waylon pushes his cock into me agonizingly slowly and drags himself back out at the same pace until only the head remains. Then he plunges deep again.
“Reach back and spread your ass cheeks,” he says, pumping into me. “I want to see that tight little asshole.”
I follow his instructions, listening to him groan as I spread myself wide for him.
“Look back over your shoulder at me, Lyric,” he demands, growling my name.
I twist back in time to watch him run his thumb across his lips and pop it into his mouth. He gives it a quick suck, wetting it thoroughly and lowering it again.
He circles my hole, the sensation making my body scream for more.
“Yes,” I moan. “Please.”
Waylon gently pushes his thumb into my ass, causing delicious pressure to build in my stomach.
“Rub your clit, baby,” he hisses through gritted teeth.
I redirect a hand beneath me and run two fingers over the bundle of nerves. I stroke myself as he drags in and out of me. His cock and thumb fall into a rhythm together, and my body feels like it’s trying to rip itself in half.
Everything begins to tremble, from my hands all the way to my toes. Every muscle coils and tightens, waiting to explode.
Waylon’s pace begins to build. He pumps into me faster, deeper, as I cry out. And just like that, I’m tumbling over the edge, falling. My body seizes as I squeeze my eyes shut and combust. My hearing goes muffled, there are stars in my vision, and I can’t feel my face.
“Fuck, yes,” he whispers. “You’re so fucking hot.” His body stiffens as he comes in my pussy, each muscle growing rigid as he fills me.
He collapses, his body heavy on top of mine, but I don’t care. A cloud of euphoria settles over me as I ride the wave. I hold on to him, keeping him pressed tightly to me as we melt into a puddle of erotic afterglow.
After a few minutes, Waylon rolls off next to me, pulling me to his side.
“Give me like ten minutes,” he says, still huffing to catch his breath. “I’ll be good to go again.”
“Are you trying to kill me?” I laugh, snuggling my face to his chest as he wraps his arm around me.
“Just trying to make good on my promise.”
I lift to look at him, furrowing my brow.
“I said I’d make you feel good.” He kisses the top of my head.
“I do, cowboy.” I giggle. “Believe me. But… I’m going to need a snack and some electrolytes if you plan to drain me like that again.”
He laughs as he turns to throw his leg over mine and asks me what kind of snack I want. Ten minutes later, I feel myself beginning to doze off in his cozy embrace.
We only had one rule and we broke it. But then we made another rule. But then we broke that one. Twice now.
What I have learned is that we are very bad at this.