Chapter 30
WESTON
Iam addicted to Willow Graham.
After getting cleared on Monday morning to return to light work, I gradually resumed my regular training schedule over the remainder of the week. Monday evening, I fucked Willow exactly as I promised I would, and the days that followed have become a flurried frenzy of our mingling bodies.
I woke early this morning, but since it’s Sunday, I didn’t have training.
Deciding to surprise Willow with pancakes, I threw on a pair of joggers when I hopped out of bed and strode directly into the kitchen.
Just as I pour the first dollop of batter onto the griddle, she saunters into the kitchen in nothing but my T-shirt.
Pride and possession flood my veins, and my atoms buzz with need at the long, tanned legs that seem to go on for miles beneath the hem. The way her nipples are just visible through the fabric, and the fact that I know she smells like me.
It’s intoxicating—watching her sleep in my bed, seeing her face when I open my eyes for the first time each morning, her voice the last thing I hear each night.
“That smells good,” she croons, hiking herself onto the counter before plucking a strawberry from the bowl beside her and popping it into her mouth.
“Are you wearing panties, Trouble?” I ask, cock achingly hard at the sight of her.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you check?” Her sultry voice is smooth like silk, shattering my composure as I pour the pancake batter onto the skillet.
I spin from the stove, finding her across from me, atop the island, leaning back on her elbows. She bats her eyes innocently, tongue darting out to lick her lush lips, and as my gaze rakes down her body, she opens her thighs, revealing her pretty, pink pussy. Wet and glistening.
“Oh, you are fucking trouble,” I growl.
She grins, spreading her legs wider. I drop the spatula on the counter, stalking to her, leaning close as I reach around and snatch my wallet from the far end of the counter, fishing out a condom.
“Do you need to be fucked this morning, love? Is that how you’d like to start the day?”
She only whimpers, nodding rapidly.
“You’ll need to use your words, Wills,” I say, though I’m already dropping my joggers and rolling the condom over my length.
“I want you to fuck me, Wes,” she rasps. “Right here. Now.”
I snatch her waist with one hand, sliding her to the edge of the counter as the other hand positions my cock at her entrance. She locks her legs around my hips, her arms around my neck, and I slide home.
We moan into each other’s mouths as I seat myself inside her, coating my length in her arousal before retreating and gliding back in effortlessly. “Look at you.” I bite her neck. “Already so fucking wet. So primed for me.”
Her head drops back, baring her throat as she bucks her hips, meeting me thrust for thrust. It’s frantic and fervent. We’re a mess of wild chaos, joining together with desperation.
“Slip a hand between those thighs and touch your pretty pussy for me, Trouble.”
She moans, falling back against the counter, back arching as her fingers drift toward her clit, brushing over the bud.
I slide my hands down her thighs, gripping beneath her knees and hiking them higher so I can fuck her deeper.
The sight of her wrapped so tightly around me, her beckoning heat welcoming me in with each pump, the cascade of cries falling from her beautiful mouth—it’s enough for me to lose my mind entirely.
The smell of burning batter permeates the air, but I’m too lost inside her to care.
“Look at the stars, Wes.” The trembled whisper leaves her mouth between each thrust.
I could give one fuck about the stars, honestly. I’m peering down at Willow’s flushed cheeks, golden hair a wild mess, her eyes bursting with passion.
She looks at the sky, but I find every constellation swimming in her gaze—brighter than the Milky Way itself.
Her breasts spill from the top of her milkmaid dress with every rapid heave of her chest. The skirt hikes around her hips as I hold one of her legs in the air, fucking her from the side.
Her head is nestled into the crook of my arm, her body flushed to mine.
“Don’t need the stars.” I pant. “Whole universe is staring directly at me right now.”
Willow whimpers, lashes fluttering as a moan floats from her throat.
I halt my movement, cock still buried deep inside her. “Eyes, baby. Eyes. Gotta look at me when you come.”
They pop open, reflective pools of starlight rippling in her irises. The power of their tides draws me in, and suddenly I’m swimming in the night sky.
I fuck her again, slow and deep, ensuring she feels every goddamn inch.
Reminding her that her body was made to wrap around mine.
The bed of my truck rocks with every snap of my hips, Willow’s cries ricocheting off the coastal cliffs surrounding the Pacific Shores back road she took me out to tonight.
“Say my name, love,” I command, exhaling over the shell of her ear as I bury my face in her neck. “Remind the stars who it is that’s making them collide for you.”
“Weston!” The sound that leaves her throat is fucking delicious, floating through the air just a fraction of a second before she shatters entirely.
I follow right behind her, sinking into the depths of ecstasy.
“God, I fucking missed you.” I kiss Willow hard the moment she opens the door to the guesthouse, walking us inside as I slam it behind me with a foot.
“I missed you,” she says on a breath as my mouth drags along her jaw and down to her collarbone. “It’s been the world’s longest day.”
Willow had an early shift this morning before driving out to Golden State for Penelope’s lecture.
I traveled north for a good swell that came in unexpectedly this evening, and am only now arriving home.
It’s nearly dark outside, the house warmly lit by two lamps in the corners and Willow’s candle warmer that makes the entire room smell like vanilla, though the scent of garlic and herbs lingers in the air.
“I made dinner,” Willow says into my mouth as I back her into the couch.
“Thank you, love,” I murmur. “Need you first, though.”
“Yes,” she breathes. “You do.”
I spin her around, cock pulsing when I realize she’s wearing my competition shirt. My entry number and Ashford plastered across her back. The sight has my chest expanding—a primal, biological response to seeing my name written on her. It’s possessive and instinctual.
Mine, that piece of me screams.
I place a palm between her shoulder blades, pressing her over the arm of the couch.
Her perfect ass hiked in the air, I bend, tugging Willow’s leggings down her thighs and allowing them to bind around her ankles.
“Sending a message with this, Trouble?” I ask, plucking at the shirt. “You want to be owned by me tonight?”
“Yes,” she whimpers into the cushions.
“Fuck.” I make quick work of unzipping my shorts and slipping them down my legs, bending down to fish a condom from my wallet.
After rolling it over my aching cock, I position myself behind her, scooping an arm around her waist and tugging her up so she’s flush with my chest. Hand sliding up her waist and over her breasts, I cup her neck, tilting her head back.
Kissing her gently, I rasp, “I’m going to fuck you like I own you. I’m going to fuck you like the name across your back is yours too.”
Her eyes roll, falling closed as she nods. I drop my hold on her throat, bending her over the couch again. I grip the back of the shirt, twisting my fingers in the fabric for leverage as I slide inside her.
I clamp my palm over her mouth as another moan clatters off the walls of the room. I halt my hips, pausing deep inside her. The leg she has wrapped around my thigh presses into me, urging me to continue moving.
“What did I say, Wills?” I tsk. “Quiet girls get to come.”
Willow’s pussy tightens as she whimpers, the sound muffled beneath my hand.
Her ocean eyes flare before rolling back as her head tips against the door.
She nods, but I keep her lips covered anyway, shifting my weight onto the arm I have pressed against the door beside her head.
I drive my hips upward again, hitting the deepest spot inside her.
She pants into my palm but keeps quiet this time.
Her legs lock behind my back, fingers twined in the hair at the base of my neck as I pump into her. I’m trembling nearly as violently as she is, struggling to hold us both up—every clench of her around me sending an explosion of stars in my periphery and heat surging down my spine.
“Fuck, love. You’re going to come, aren’t you?
” I groan. A strangled sound catches in Willow’s throat, and she flexes her hips against me, meeting my thrusts, causing the shelves beside us to shake.
“Is that what you need, baby?” I pull back enough to meet her eyes, grinning down at her.
“I’m going to send you back to work with that pretty pussy dripping down your thighs. ”
She bites down on my palm, eyes half-lidded and narrowed as a growl reverberates against my skin. She thrashes against me, the drumming of her heart matching the pulse in her core, gripping my cock like she’ll leave a permanent impression of me inside her.
I remove my hand from her mouth, slapping it against the door, needing the leverage to fuck her harder. Sliding it across the wood, I cup the back of her head, folding her face over my neck. “Need to bite down, do it here, Wills.” I tap the crease of my shoulder.
She latches on immediately, a stifled cry vibrating against my skin.
I drag my arm down, gliding over her chest and the dip of her waist, before reaching around to slide it under the hem of the dress hiked around her hips to grasp her ass.
Kneading her soft flesh, I rock her over me, the frantic movement of our bodies slamming against the door.