4. No Doubt They Know You’re Well-sated
NO DOUBT THEY KNOW YOU’RE WELL-SATED
WILLA
“Think that dive bar with the burgers and onion rings is on UberEats?” I ask.
“Fuck, woman. Just when I thought you couldn’t get more perfect.” Exton pulls out of me, disposes of the condom and returns, jeans perched on his hips, unbuttoned, and only half-zipped. He’s big, and I miss the fullness of him.
He tags his phone. “Nope, but it’s on GrubHub. What sounds good?”
“Anything, but make sure there’s cheese. And dip for the rings.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Just don’t get me hoity-toity fancy shit, and I’ll be good.” He nods and taps his phone and then locks the screen, looking back toward me.
There are voices on my front stoop, and my eyes go wide. I sign to him like we’re military and leading an incursion.
He scoops up everything he can, and I grab the rest, and we run down the hall, diving into my bedroom, stifling our laughter at almost getting caught.
“How old are you?” I ask.
“Thirty-three. Why?”
“I’m thirty, and we both just ran like teenagers being busted by the parents. And it’s my own damn house.”
“Yeah, but you have no pants, and no one else gets to see your pussy, and…”
“And?” I lift my eyebrows. Tell me he’s not going all caveman on me. I cross my arms and hold his gaze. “And what?”
“And whatever that is I see peeking from under your shirt.”
He moves to me and traces a finger up the claw of my dragon, lifting my shirt, exposing her as he goes.
“What have we here?” He moves ever so slowly—as if he hasn’t touched every single part of me—lifting my shirt over my hips, my breasts, my shoulders, my head.
He stops once and sucks in a breath at my electric blue lace bra that I spent a pretty penny on.
But it’s his hands that do me in, the way they reverently outline and move across my tat. I have a few pieces—the job demands it.
But this one? This one is all mine. With the exception of her head, it’s only been seen by a handful of people—the artist who rendered it, the tattoo artist who was willing to take on the almost year-long project, Jackie, and my ex, Paul.
And Paul only because he lost his mind when he heard about it and held me down to cut my shirt off of me to see it, to ask about who inked it, if they’d touched me, whether I enjoyed the pain it caused, or how I had cheated by agreeing to it. It’s one more reason he’s an ex.
Now, Exton makes five.
And he isn’t jealous or mean or threatening. He’s awestruck.
He holds one hand low on my belly. The other he uses to turn me to see the whole piece.
My dragon—Kulshedra. Her bottom claws and talons are at the top of my left thigh and ass cheek.
Her body slithers up my side to my shoulder; her face and head wrap around my upper arm and breathe yellow-orange flames down and around my elbow.
That hurt like a bitch. Her tail steals around my lower back, its barbed tip wrapping and stopping at my right hip.
One of Kulshedra’s wings reaches across my shoulder blade, her arm below it.
The other snakes under my breasts; her talons rest at my heart.
Orange, red, and salmon-colored scales and pale green eyes round out the only piece of art that’s ever stopped me in my tracks and left me speechless.
In that moment, I knew she was mine and must live on me forever—something no one could take from me. Something I could wear to the grave and never have to forfeit. I don’t want to consider the cost or the pain.
Both were extreme.
Both were worth it.
Exton traces the top of her tail across my back and then its bottom even lower, skimming just above my ass. His eyes catalog everything, but he doesn’t ask me a single question. It’s as if he knows it’s sacred, and he isn’t ready to enter that space.
With his hands still low on my body, he turns my back to him, whisks my hair over one side and kisses my shoulder blade. He unhooks my bra and uses both hands to slide the straps down my arms. My back is to him. I’m wholly naked, while he’s fully clothed.
His playful banter is gone. His silence holds depth.
I want to fidget. I want to cover my breasts or my pussy or dive under the covers. Instead I stand here, bold as brass, naked as the day I was born, head held high… trusting him.
He kisses my other shoulder cap before there’s a rustling of his shirt being removed and cool air rushes over my back. He returns, one arm wrapped low around my belly, another high above my breasts, his forearms holding me firmly to his well-defined, naked chest.
His chin comes below my ear. “Someday you’ll tell me the story of this piece,” he whispers.
No humor, no threat, no malice. Just wonder.
He turns my head to him and takes my mouth, sinking his tongue in deep, skimming his hands along my body, but studiously avoiding my breasts that ache and my pussy that weeps for him.
His hands caress my dragon, down my side, moving across talons and scales, paying homage to Kulshedra.
“Trust me?” he continues.
I nod, not voicing that I do. I shouldn’t—seeing as I don’t know this man at all.
He turns me into him, taking my hand, moving me near the ottoman at the foot of my bed. He grabs my full-length mirror. It’s old and wobbly, and I wonder if it’s seven years of bad luck for me or for him or for both of us if it breaks. He sets it close to the foot of the bed.
When he returns to me, he presses on my shoulders until I’m seated on the ottoman facing the mirror. He kicks off his pants and boxers and kneels before me and parts my thighs, pulling my ass to the edge of where I’m seated.
“Watch yourself as I make you come.”
“What? No, I don’t want to—”
He puts a calloused finger to my lips. “You need to see how stunning you are and what I see when you come.”
Lifting both my legs over his shoulders, he feasts on me, tongue-fucking me, licking and sucking, taking me back to the edge, leaving me teetering there.
“Exton, I need more. I need to come.”
I see his hand between his legs. He’s pumping his cock.
“You want my mouth or my cock, baby?”
“Either.”
His chuckle vibrates through my most sensitive area and almost does me in. “No, Willa, tell me what you want. Not what you think I want to hear.”
Very quietly, since I’m not used to this, I say, “Your mouth. Your tongue. I want you to suck my clit, Exton.”
For the second time tonight, I hear, “Your wish is my command.”
He flicks my clit until I can barely see straight, until I’m afraid I’ll not just crumble, but fall over the edge. When he sucks and hums, I can’t fight it any longer and let go. Falling into pleasure, onto my back, and under Exton Ranger’s spell.
With my clit throbbing and my sex pulsing, he raises me to sit on his lap, throwing my legs on either side of his thighs. His deep olive chest cradles my back, and he lifts me, sitting me on his erection. His cock is hot and hard inside me, and my reverse cowgirl position has him seated deep.
“Ooh,” I moan, dropping my head to his shoulder.
“Not this time, baby. Watch yourself. Watch us.” He widens his knees, and I’m impaled on his cock even deeper than before. He pulls his hips back and thrusts, and I lean forward, hands to his thighs, watching him disappear inside me, so deep I can’t imagine ever being satisfied by any other man.
“What do you see, Willa?”
I shake my head, unable to form words.
He withdraws, withholding himself from me.
“Baby, what do you see?” he repeats as he ever so slowly disappears inside me.
“You,” I begin. “Inside me.”
“Anything else?”
“You’re hard.”
He nods behind me and brings my hands to my breasts, encouraging me to play.
“Oh, God.”
“What else?”
“I don’t know.”
“Play with your tits, Willa. Tell me what you see in the mirror. Describe what you feel in your body.”
“It’s too much.” I close my eyes.
“Look at me, Willa,” Exton growls, and I meet his gaze in the mirror.
“What. Do. You. See?” He punctuates each word with an upthrust, bouncing me on his cock.
“You. You’re hard and hot and an angry red.”
He nods.
“You’re disappearing into my pussy like I’m greedy and want to keep you there.”
“Uh huh.”
“My nipples are begging to be touched.”
He guides my hands to my breasts again, this time rolling and twisting, creating ripples of pleasure that surge through my core.
“Keep going.” He holds my gaze captive.
“You’re so deep inside me, I’m afraid I’ll never be this full again.” It comes out as a whisper.
Instead of begging me to go on verbally, he leans forward, and circles his forearm under my breasts, pulling me tight to his chest.
His eyes never leave mine in the mirror.
He reaches between us and strums my clit.
His mouth comes to my ear and tugs the lobe with his teeth and whispers, “Want to know what I see? Do you want to know what I feel when I watch you swallow my cock, Willa?”
I nod, not wanting him to stop.
And I have to know.
“I see the most stunning woman I’ve ever met.”
Thrust.
“With a smile as honest as her eyes.”
Thrust.
“Whose tits I want to taste and fuck.”
Thrust.
“With a pussy that is heaven.”
Thrust.
“Taking me in deep.”
Thrust.
“Chasing her pleasure.”
Thrust.
“Trusting I’ll make it good for her.”
Thrust.
“Trusting,” he begins, but his finger at my clit and his cock driving into me from behind is too much, and I know I’m going to come. His legs go even wider, not giving me any break from the relentless pleasure, the overwhelming ecstasy. “Eyes, baby.”
And my gaze meets his.
“Trusting me.” His buck sets off an orgasm that rolls deep inside me, the kind I’ve never felt before. I come so hard I scream. Thank God he holds my chest upright, because I’m a rag doll, bouncing on his cock, waves of bliss rippling through until I almost black out.
“Fuck,” he yells and plants himself to the root, hitting me deep, and I watch as Exton Ranger ruins me for every other man on the planet.
After we catch our breath and my vision clears, he says, “Hop up, baby. Let me get rid of this condom.”
“I think I saw stars,” I say in disbelief, mostly to myself. He drops a kiss where my shoulder meets my neck, and I feel and see his mouth curve into a smile.
I moan a little as I lift off his cock and he leans forward and places a kiss above the right globe of my ass.
With a little tap to the left cheek, he stands and strides into the bathroom, yelling over his shoulder, “Food will be here in ten. You want to go tell Jon and Blondie or do you want me to?”
My responding groan is not sexual, it’s horror.
“Exton? How loud was I?”
“Thinking there’s no doubt they know you’re well-sated.” His laugh is all I hear as I face-plant into the comforter.