Chapter 26
WESTON
“Weston.” Her voice floats through my subconscious like a siren song—ethereal and unearthly in a way that reminds me I’m surely dreaming. “Weston,” she continues, her soft laugh like liquid warmth, curling around me in a gentle embrace. “Wake up, Wes.”
I’m snapped into consciousness when there is a light pressure on my shoulder, and I groan as I slowly force my eyes open.
My blurred vision clears as I blink, and in the near-darkness, I make out Willow’s silhouette above me. Golden hair frames her face like a halo as she peers down at me from where she straddles my waist.
I am absolutely still dreaming.
“Good morning,” she coos, planting a hand at the center of my chest, settling her body atop mine.
My cock is hard enough to throb, and it’s aligned perfectly with the center of her thighs. “Yep,” I groan. “Definitely dreaming.”
She laughs again, the sound a melody to my lust. I pulse, and she folds forward, her hair tickling my cheeks as she presses her lips to mine. “Not dreaming, but it is time to wake up.”
“I’m up,” I grumble, wiping a hand down my face.
Willow’s been sleeping at home, stating she’s determined I get plenty of rest this week leading up to my competition. Little does she know, I sleep much better with her beside me. She must’ve snuck into the house this morning to wake me before the event.
“Oh, I know,” she rasps. “I can feel it.”
She wiggles her ass, and I grip her hip, halting her. If she moves too many times like that in a row, I’ll fucking embarrass myself.
“Your fault,” I mutter, nipping at her jaw.
“Hmm,” she muses, rocking her body again. “It’s just morning.”
I pin her with both hands, rolling us over so I’m hovering above her. “No, Willow,” I scold, pumping against her just once before forcing myself away. “It’s all fucking you, baby.”
I leap off the bed, facing Willow as she sprawls across it, propped onto an elbow, resting her face in her hand.
Her eyes track my body—ravenous in the dim lit.
When she reaches the base of my torso, one of her brows raises slowly, tongue darting out to lick her lips.
I follow her gaze, finding that my boxers are tented by my dick, before looking at her again.
That lip slips between her teeth, nostrils flaring before she flicks her eyes to my face. “I could help with that.”
My cock jumps, and a salacious smile spreads across her fuckable mouth. Goddammit.
“I . . . I . . .” Christ, I’m stuttering like a fucking idiot. I don’t know what to say.
I can’t tell her we don’t have enough time, because I’ll no doubt blow within thirty seconds. I want to say yes. So bad.
What if she’s just trying to please me because she thinks it’s what I want? What if it activates her trauma? What if it’s too early in our relationship?
Not to mention . . . what if I fuck up and embarrass myself? I’m confident that no matter how she plays with it, I’ll thoroughly enjoy myself, but what role do I have in it all?
I don’t want to ask.
“Willow, you don’t have—”
“Do you like to . . . release? Before competitions? Does it help with your performance?” She tilts her head, blinking at me with those sultry, curious, innocent blue eyes.
My knees buckle. “I mean . . . I don’t know if . . . scientifically it helps, but yeah. When I was surfing competitively as a teen, I would normally . . . find release before.”
“And you planned to do it this morning?”
“Honestly, hadn't thought about it,” I say breathlessly. “Probably, though. Yeah.”
She rises to her knees in the center of my bed, clad in nothing but a tiny pair of cotton shorts and a tank top that looks painted on. Her nipples are pebbled, peeking through the thin fabric, driving me in-fucking-sane.
She tilts her head, long, lush hair falling over a shoulder. “So, why don’t you do it in my mouth?”
The red-hot ache in my core is begging for release.
Willow is so goddamn beautiful, the intensity of her stare radiates inside my chest, turning my entire being into liquid warmth.
She looks at me like she wants this too, like she’s as desperate as I am, but I need her ready.
I need to ensure that I’ll never be something she regrets.
I swallow the gravel in my throat, though my voice still sounds as if it’s full of rocks when I say, “Are you sure you . . . want to?”
“If I didn’t want to suck your cock, Weston, I wouldn’t ask.”
I’m pulsing.
She swings her legs out from under her, slipping off my bed and lowering to her knees right in front of me. Peering up through her lashes, the personification of heavenly sin, Willow asks, “Can I make you feel good? Please?”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I think I should be the one begging.”
She smirks. “You will.”
No. Fucking. Doubt.
She reaches for my waistband, tugging my underwear down my thighs. As they drop to the floor and my cock springs free, I step out of them and kick them aside. Willow gulps as she runs a palm up my length, and a blaze ignites at the base of my spine.
“So big,” she whispers.
“I’m not going to last long,” I admit.
She exhales through a playful smile, glancing up at me as she pumps my length once. Then twice. “That’s okay, baby. Just relax for me, okay?”
That fucking name.
She’s ruining me.
My head kicks back as a moan works its way from my throat, morphing into a pathetic whimper as the first wet, warm glide of her tongue covers me from base to tip. My body trembles when she slips my cock into her mouth, enclosing her lips around it and hollowing out her cheeks.
Pulling away with a pop, she rasps, “Tell me if I do something you don’t like, okay?”
“I cannot imagine any reality where that’s possible,” I say in a broken breath. “Tell me if there is something you would like, okay?”
“Run your fingers through my hair.” She pumps me again. “Form a ponytail with your fist.”
I reach down, grasping her beautiful face before sliding my fingers across her scalp, gathering her locks at the crown of her head and holding them together. “Like this?”
“Yes.” She nods. “That’s good. Now guide me toward you. Move me at a pace you enjoy.”
Unsure how I’m even fucking standing, a quiver rips through me, and I know this is going to be a short-lived event as I bring her mouth over my cock.
She drops her jaw, and it slides in effortlessly.
I inch into her slowly, deep enough that I hit resistance at the back of her throat, and she sputters around me.
I halt, but when I attempt to retreat, Willow’s hands fly to my hips, holding me in place. She makes a noise of protest, so I tug gently at her hair, pulling her head back before sliding it over my cock once more. She moans in approval this time.
“Fuck, Willow,” I murmur. “Can I see your eyes, love?”
That transcendent gaze flutters upward, glistening with tears as I press deep into her throat. Her eyes flare, pupils blowing before her lids droop—hooded and hazed with passion.
She’s fucking enjoying this.
She chokes, saliva dripping from the corners of her lips and down my length.
When she swirls her tongue around my tip before sucking it toward the roof of her mouth, my vision begins to blur.
White light sparks in my periphery, that blaze in my spine shattering into an all-consuming pleasure that sparks inside my veins.
“Willow.” Her name tears from my throat, drenched in fierce fervency. “Willow . . . Willow . . .” I pant through heaving breaths as she works my cock, pleasure surging viciously. “I’m going to—”
She hums, clamping her lips around me tighter. My mind scatters to oblivion—to some far-off dimension where nothing but my body, her mouth, her soft hair around my fist, and the infinite expanse of pleasure she’s drawn from my being exists.
Spilling into her mouth, I feel the way she consumes it, her throat working with a swallow as she hums around my length.
I become hyperaware of the fact that I am inside her.
I’m inside Willow’s mouth, the essence of me now moving through her.
I’ve never known a connection like this, and it’s ruining me—tearing me open and piecing me back together as someone new.
Someone that belongs to her.
I realize I’m still whispering her name—a scratched record—as reality mists over me once again.
Drawing whatever is left of my strength, I force my eyes open, finding hers boring through me with satisfaction as she sucks the remainder of my release from my cock before pulling back and licking her lips—revealing a triumphant smile.
I’m devastated. Obliterated. Devoid of all composure—I only stare at her. Mouth gaping, legs shaking, mind reeling.
She stands, grinning as she places her hands on my shoulder, guiding me to sit at the edge of the bed.
Bringing her face to mine, she kisses me softly—the lingering taste of my climax still on her lips.
As if I’d claimed her, or maybe she claimed me.
We claimed each other, and the taste is addictive.
“You seem like you need a minute,” she murmurs against my lips before pulling back, winking. “I’ll go make us some coffee. We need to meet my dad at the big house in about an hour.”
“I’m sorry,” I sputter. “I . . . I can’t even remember my own name right now, honestly.”
She saunters toward my bedroom door, smirking over her shoulder. “Sure remembered mine. You moaned it about a million times.”
Fuck me.
My body is satiated and boneless, but my mind is far from satisfied. I need the claiming between us to expand beyond my release—I want to taste her too.
I spring from bed, checking the clock to ensure Willow was right and we have plenty of time, before I tug on a pair of sweatpants and stalk into the kitchen.
Her back is turned to me, a warm glow illuminates the space from a lamp she flicked on in the living room.
Willow sways her hips to some tune she’s humming as she presses start on the espresso maker—the picture of perfection.
The sight I’d very much like to wake to every morning for the rest of my life.