11. Wyatt
Chapter 11
Wyatt
I tip the bottle back, letting the burn of the whiskey slide down my throat. Beside me, Ivy does the same, a smile tugging at her lips that promises she's game for whatever this night throws her way. I'm grateful for that. I’ve been dying to get my hands on this girl.
"All right," Holt says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "let’s start off easy. Ivy, I dare you to speak in a ridiculous accent for the next three rounds.”
Ivy arches a brow but doesn’t hesitate. She taps a finger against her chin, then launches into an exaggerated Cockney drawl. "You blokes ready for a bit of fun then, are ya?"
Holt lets out a bark of laughter and I nearly choke on the whiskey. “Jesus. That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Oi,” she shoots back, sticking her nose in the air. “You lot wouldn’t know posh if it slapped you across the face.”
I snort, tipping my bottle toward her. “Oi, watch it,” I tease, grinning. She sticks her tongue out at me, her eyes bright with amusement.
"Bloody hell," Holt drawls, shaking his head. "That’s awful. Painful, even."
Ivy gasps, clutching at her chest like he just mortally wounded her. “How dare you, mate? This is top-tier British, innit?”
Wyatt chuckles, shaking his head. "Oh yeah, pure Shakespeare."
Holt leans back against the couch, lips twitching. "More like a drunk tourist in a London pub."
Ivy narrows her eyes, but the corners of her mouth fight against a smile. "Fine, you ungrateful sods. Next dare, and it better be a good one."
She’s good at this, I think—maybe even a natural. The fake accent brings out a playful side of her. I’ve seen her guarded, wary. But this? This is the Ivy I want more of.
When it’s finally Ivy’s turn, she taps a finger against her lips, pretending to think. “All right, Holt. I dare you to give Wyatt your best pick-up lines—the cheesier, the better.”
Holt’s eyebrows shoot up and he chokes on a laugh. “Oh, you are evil.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. "Not happening."
Ivy grins, leaning in like she’s just set the perfect trap. "Oh, it’s happening. And you better commit, Holt. Get him all flustered and flattered."
Holt sighs, rolling his shoulders like he’s prepping for battle. "Fine. But if I’m doing this, I’m going all in."
"That’s the spirit," Ivy says, settling back with a smug little smirk.
Holt stretches his arms over his head like he’s preparing for battle, then cracks his knuckles. “All right, Wyatt, brace yourself. This is gonna be life-changing.”
I raise an eyebrow, taking a slow sip from the bottle. “Can’t wait.”
Ivy smirks, tucking her legs beneath her. “Make it good, Holt. I want to see Wyatt swoon.”
Holt clears his throat, then turns to me, dropping his voice to a low and sultry tone. “Are you French? Because Eiffel for you.”
I stare at him. “Jesus Christ.”
Ivy cackles, clutching her stomach. “That’s terrible.”
Holt grins, undeterred. He shifts closer, resting an elbow on his knee, eyes locked on mine like I’m the only person in the room. “Are you a magician? Because whenever I look at you, everyone else disappears.”
I blink at him. “I hate this.”
Ivy wipes away a tear. “No, no, I love this. Keep going.”
Holt leans in, his voice a husky whisper. “Do you believe in love at first sight? Or should I walk by again?”
I groan, rubbing a hand down my face. “Ivy, I hope you’re happy. This is actual torture.”
She’s gasping for breath now, cheeks flushed with laughter. “Oh my God, I am so happy right now.”
Holt sits back, looking smug. “Admit it, Wyatt. You’re at least a little turned on.”
I toss a bottle cap at him. “Next dare before I murder you.”
“Wait! One more. It’s my best one yet. Are you Wi-Fi? Because I'm really feeling a connection."
"Jesus," I groan, though I can't help but laugh. "That's so bad it's almost good."
The light in Ivy's eyes tells me she's enjoying every second of this. It's my turn now, and I feel the mischief in me rise to the surface.
"Your turn, Holt." I point at Ivy. "I dare you to give her a thirty-second lap dance. Extra points for enthusiasm. Show us what you've got."
Holt barks out a laugh. "You’re really out for blood tonight, huh?"
Ivy’s eyes widen, but there’s no mistaking the intrigue in them. She takes a slow sip from the bottle, then smirks.
"You’re about to witness greatness, CG," Holt declares. “Prepare to be amazed.”
Ivy shifts in her seat, trying to look unimpressed, though I can see the anticipation sparkling in her eyes. She’s waiting to see what Holt’s got. And of course, the asshole commits.
He stands, rolling his shoulders before dropping into a deep squat in front of her. With zero shame, he starts moving to an imaginary beat, hips swaying comically as he hovers over Ivy. She bites her lip, trying to hold back laughter. Holt is all exaggerated gyrations and winks.
"Oh, Jesus," Ivy mutters, laughing as she buries her face in her hands.
"Don’t look away, pretty girl," Holt teases, dragging a hand down his chest like he’s in Magic Mike.
Ivy peeks at me like she’s pleading for help, but I just grin and sip my drink. Holt flips around, grinding his ass toward her lap, and that’s when she loses it and doubles over, laughing so hard she can barely breathe.
"Time!" I call out. Holt stops mid-thrust, panting dramatically, and Ivy is clapping, her laughter genuine and infectious.
"Bravo," she giggles, dimples deepening. "You get all the points for that performance, Holt."
"Thank you, thank you." Holt takes a mock bow, still breathing hard from his exertion. "I aim to please."
I crack my knuckles, the game's heat rising with each dare. Holt arches a brow, a devilish grin in place.
"Your turn, Wyatt," he says, spinning an invisible revolver with his fingers. "Strip."
I snort, raising a brow. “That’s the best you’ve got?”
“You scared?” Holt taunts, tilting his head. “Come on, cowboy. Let’s see some skin.”
It's a challenge I can't refuse. I yank off a sock, dropping it to the floor in a flutter. Then I toss the other one after it.
“That’s it?”
I roll my eyes but don’t hesitate. Reaching for the hem of my shirt, I peel it off in one smooth motion and toss it at his face. “Happy now?”
Ivy hums in approval, her gaze sweeping over me with just enough heat to make my blood thrum. Yeah, she’s definitely enjoying this.
Two can play this game. I smirk and turn to Holt. “Your turn. Strip.”
Holt groans, but there’s no real protest. He shrugs out of his flannel shirt, flexing obnoxiously as he does. Ivy laughs, shaking her head. “You two are ridiculous.”
I wink at her. “Your turn, City Girl.”
Ivy hesitates, that vulnerability flashing across her face. She peels off a sock, tentative but playing along.
"Keep it fair," I say, gesturing to her other foot.
She complies, mirroring us, two socks tossed aside.
“You can do better than that,” Holt eggs her on, waggling his brows.
With an exaggerated sigh, Ivy shifts, grabbing the hem of her sweater. “Fine.” She peels it off, revealing a tight black tank top underneath. My mouth goes dry.
Holt makes a show of fanning himself. “Now we’re talkin’.”
Ivy rolls her eyes, but there’s a flush creeping up her neck that tells me she’s feeling this just as much as we are.
I lean back, pretending to think. “All right, new dare. Ivy, get over here.” I pat my thigh. “You’re sitting in my lap for the next two rounds.”
Her lips part slightly, and for a second, I think she’s going to protest. Instead, she squares her shoulders and climbs onto my lap, settling herself right over my hardening cock. There's no hiding my interest now. It’s pressed firmly against her. I know the exact moment she realizes it. Her breath catches, cheeks flushing.
Fuck.
I flex my hands on her hips, willing myself to stay still. Ivy, on the other hand, shifts just enough to make me grit my teeth.
Holt chuckles. “Comfortable?”
She lifts her chin, playing it cool. “Very.”
I glance at Holt. “Your move.”
His smirk turns wicked. “Okay, Wyatt. Kiss the back of Ivy’s neck.”
Heat licks up my spine. I could refuse, but fuck that. I lean in, nose brushing her skin, our woodsy scent mingling with her floral shampoo. I brush my lips over her bare skin, slow and deliberate. But it's enough to make her shiver. I do it again, lingering.
"Fuck," I mutter under my breath. Because she does taste good, so good.
I swirl the amber liquid in the bottle, the warmth of Ivy’s body pressed against mine making it impossible to think straight. She hasn’t moved an inch, and I sure as hell haven’t asked her to.
I glance at Holt, my smirk turning sharp. “All right, since you’re so damn smug—your turn.” I pour a single drop of whiskey onto the curve of Ivy’s collarbone. “Lick it off.”
Holt’s eyes darken, and Ivy lets out a soft laugh, though there’s a breathiness to it now. He leans in, slow, deliberate, his breath warm against Ivy’s skin. His tongue flicks out, catching the drop of whiskey, and Ivy’s whole body shudders against me.
Fuck.
The room feels hotter suddenly, the space between us charged. I tighten my grip on her waist as Holt lingers, his lips brushing just beneath her jaw. Ivy’s breathing stutters, and the moment stretches too long, too thick with tension. Then, before I can process what’s happening, Holt tilts her chin and kisses her.
His lips press firmly to hers, hands cupping her face. A growl builds low in my throat, but not from jealousy. No, it’s something else entirely. Because Ivy is still in my lap, her ass pressing against my cock as Holt’s mouth moves over hers.
She responds instantly, fingers digging into his arms. Holt fists a hand in her hair, deepening the kiss. She lets out a soft, needy sound, and I swear my vision goes hazy. Their kisses are desperate, consuming. And I'm here, feeling every movement, every sigh that Ivy lets out.
We’re not playing anymore.
The game's forgotten, the rules abandoned. We're past dares now, past playing it safe. Her back presses against me, and I can feel her heart racing through the thin fabric of her shirt. My pulse echoes hers, every nerve ending alive and shouting.
I can’t stop myself as I lean forward. The warmth of Ivy's skin burns against my lips as I trace the line of her neck with kisses. She lets out a soft moan, the sound shooting straight through me. Her hips move, grinding back into me, and I can't help but let my hands wander, exploring the curves that have been tempting me all night. Hell, all week.
"More," she breathes, a simple plea that has my blood pounding in my ears.
Holt's voice cuts through the haze of desire. "Spread her legs, Wyatt. Dare you."
I comply without hesitation, my fingers hooking under her knees to part them. Ivy's breath catches. Holt doesn't waste a second; he strips away the barriers of her pants and panties with swift, purposeful motions, baring her to us.
He lowers his head, and I watch, transfixed, as he runs his tongue up her slit, drawing a long, wet path that makes Ivy arch off my lap. Her hands clutch at my arms, nails digging in, and I feel every shudder that ripples through her.
Every long lick sends a shudder through her body, a breathy little moan escaping her lips. When he pushes one long finger inside, she grips his head as if to keep him in place. Like he’s going anywhere.
Holt pulls back, watching what he’s doing to our girl. "Come for us, Ivy," Holt dares, his voice a low growl, and then he's on her, sucking at the bundle of nerves that drives her wild.
"Ah—yes!" The raw edge in Ivy's cry slices through the room. She's close, teetering on the edge, and I can feel it, the tension winding tighter in her body.
"Let go," I murmur into her ear. And she does. She shatters, coming apart with a release that echoes in the quiet mountain cabin, leaving nothing but ragged breaths and the sweet smell of sex hanging heavy in the air.
I dare her, my voice a rough whisper, "Suck my cock, City Girl."
She doesn't hesitate, sliding from my lap to the floor with an ease that stirs me further. Her fingers work at my sweatpants, tugging them down until I'm exposed to her heated gaze.
Ivy leans in, lips parting, breath hot on my skin. The sight of her big, brown eyes looking up at me, full of a raw hunger, causes me to unravel. She licks, long and slow, up the underside, and I can't help but let out a strangled sound. When she sucks me in deep, it's all I can do not to buck into her mouth. My hand finds her hair, not pushing, just feeling the silk strands slip through my fingers.
"Fuck," escapes me when she goes deeper, and her throat constricts around me. It's a choked sound, one of pleasure, disbelief, or maybe both.
The desire to see her taken, filled, grips me like a vice. "Holt, your turn." My voice cracks with the command. "Fuck her. I dare you."
I look down at our pretty girl, her cheeks flushed, a single tear trailing along her skin.
"You want that? You want Holt to fuck you?" I ask, wiping away the wetness with a thumb, catching her gaze for consent.
Her nod is swift, eager. No hesitation. A thrill shoots through me.
Holt's grin is all predator, hungry and bold as he moves into position. He tears open the little foil packet and rolls the condom down his length with practiced ease, and I can't help but watch.
"I’ve got you, baby," he rasps, voice low and rough like gravel. There's no mistaking the promise in his tone.
Ivy's still on her knees, and she looks back at Holt with that same wild need that's been building inside all of us. Her hands brace against my thighs for support as Holt aligns himself with her, the head of his cock nudging at her entrance.
"Go slow," I find myself saying, not sure who I'm trying to reassure—her or me.
Holt nods, inching forward, and then he's pushing into her, steady and relentless. I feel her gasp around my cock, vibrations sending shockwaves through my entire body. My head falls back, eyelids fluttering as I fight to keep my senses.
"Fuck..." The word comes out as a strangled groan from my throat.
She's incredible, taking us both. Every muscle in my body tenses as I watch Holt grab her hips, pulling her onto him until he's completely buried inside her. Her moans are muffled against my skin, but they're music to my ears.
"Look at her," I tell Holt, my voice barely more than a whisper, thick with lust.
He does, and we share a moment, a silent acknowledgment of the goddess between us. Her lips stretch around me, wet and warm, while Holt starts to find his rhythm, fucking her hard from behind. It's like nothing I've ever seen—one of those moments you know you'll replay in your mind forever.
We’ve shared before once or twice. But it didn’t feel like this.
"God, Ivy..." Holt breathes, his movements becoming more urgent, more demanding.
Every thrust sends her further onto me, and I have to grip her hair, hold her steady. But it's gentle, always gentle, because this isn't just heat—there's something else here, unspoken but understood.
"More," she manages to mumble, sending another jolt straight to my core.
"Whatever you want, sweetheart," I grunt, and the words are raw truth. Whatever she wants, we'll give her.
I feel every tremor that ripples through Ivy's body, each one echoing in my own flesh. Her breasts are bouncing beneath her, her back arching as she screams, the sound vibrating against me. It tips me over the edge, and without warning, I'm coming too, my release flooding her throat.
Holt's rhythm falters, turns wild, erratic. His breath comes in ragged gasps behind her. He's close, so damn close. With a final thrust, he holds still, and I can almost feel his heartbeat pounding through her.
"Fuck," he groans, voice strained with the effort of his climax.
He gently eases out of her, and I watch him roll off the spent condom, his movements careful, almost tender. Then he leans down to press a soft kiss on Ivy's sweaty back. She shivers, a tiny aftershock from what we've just shared.
Holt straightens up, locks eyes with me. There's a wildness there, an untamed energy that matches the throb still pulsing through my veins.
"Dare you to do it again," he says, voice low, a challenge laced with that cocky grin I know all too well.
I look down at Ivy, her brown eyes wide and filled with heat. She's still catching her breath, still riding the high. A dare is a dare, but only if she's game. When she gives a little nod, I’m already hard again.
Fuck. This girl .